This morning, when I Fug-or-Fabbed Kristen Stewart's interesting-if-mismatched-looking outfit, I was doing so without all the facts. Specifically, I thought she was clinging to Taylor Lautner for dear life simply because Robert Pattinson seemed interested in raining three-day-old odor down upon her while he snacked on her spleen. But as it turns out, she may have been nervously regretting her clothing choice. Because when she stalked offstage to maybe OR MAYBE NOT YOU DON'T KNOW HER LIFE sneak into R.Pattz's hotel room for some mopey and unwashed nooky, she revealed this:

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Hola, panties.

I've heard of wanting a HOUSE with windows that let in a lot of natural light, but seeking a skirt with the same properties is baffling to me. Next she'll be shopping for a pair of pants with three bedrooms, central air, and stainless steel appliances.

The question now, which you can debate in the comments (which are now turned on... oops), are: Now that you're armed with all this information, what would you do to fix this outfit -- assuming you think it's broken -- and also:

Every time I watch Olivia Palermo here on The City, I want to smack her. Whenever she's at her job for Elle, she acts like she's doing everyone there a favor by gracing them with her presence, AND she totally isn't backing that up with awesome work. Instead, she seems like she's completely half-assing that job and nothing makes me MORE ANNOYED than someone with a great job who just sort of does the bare minimum and then acts put upon when her coworkers are pissed that she's phoning it in. I've worked with people like her and they always made me want to whack them across the back of the head with a three-ring binder. (Although I must say that I think one of the reasons The City is more interesting to me than The Hills is that The City focuses much more on people's careers -- at least as much, if not more, than their relationships, whereas The Hills is SOLELY about people's almost completely scripted relationship dramas. Not that I'm not interested in relationship drama, trust me, but on these shows, said drama generally consists of people having UTTERLY OBLIQUE conversations that are nearly in code, and then staring blankly at the horizon. So watching Kelly Cutrone waltz into her office on The City like the head bitch in charge that she is, whipping everyone's lazy ass into shape and having no sympathy for their juvenile and possibly fictional issues, is totally satisfying. NO ONE on The Hills even GOES to work and therefore seemingly has no interest in doing ANYTHING with her life other than maybe hooking up with Brody and it's SO BORING. GET A GODDAMN JOB, GIRLS, as R. Kelly would say.) Anyway, where was I? Right. Olivia: a maddening coworker. BUT: she is insanely good-looking and has great hair and usually is beautifully pulled together. So THIS is particularly surprising:


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Sweet sausage biscuits, what have we here? Sequined tap pants, an Asian-inspired belted vest, and granny's cardigan. This is the sort of thing that happens when you're picking out your ensemble after a bender of prescription muscle relaxers, boxed wine and deep-fried HoHos. I hope it goes without saying that my most fervent wish is for this kind of thing to become a habit for Olivia, so that I can look forward to seeing her on the finale of The City wearing, like, denim cut-offs, a Bedazzled coconut bra, an Elizabethan ruff and a cape.

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TAYLOR LAUTNER: I am going to be as clothed as I can be for the rest of this tour.

KRISTEN STEWART: My hair claw and I are going to stand as close to Taylor as we can for the rest of this tour.

ROBERT PATTINSON: I am going to use as many natural bodily fluids as I can to style my hair for the rest of this tour.

TAYLOR: I am more than a body, world! Don't objectify me!

KRISTEN: I am totally not rocking the bed mambo with that dude, world! Don't be grossed out by me!

ROBERT: I am filthy and rank, world! Don't stalk me!

It wouldn't be a country music awards gala if Carrie Underwood didn't wear eleventy-four different outfits through the course of the night. So, people of the jury, get comfortable in your chairs and prepare to sift through the evidence to determine whether a crime was committed. You may deliberate in the comments.

Exhibit A:

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The prosecution frowns that this mirrored dress mostly eliminates her waist, and reflects the red carpet in such a way that it becomes an artistic interpretation of internal bleeding. The defense snorts that the prosecutors are all a bunch of Crabby McCrabbersons, and puts in a call to some wig vendors to see about replicating this coif, because it's cute, and so is she.  The prosecution wonders if this would've been better at knee length, but quiets down when one of the defense attorneys tries to take a pair of scissors to her jeans in order to prove the point that not EVERYTHING needs to be knee-length, THANK YOU VERY MUCH.



Exhibit B:

It's your own fault, Fug Nation. You've proven so adept at every challenge we've thrown at you, we're going to get a little advanced on you this week. Yes, that's right. You heard me. It's time... for Juliette Lewis.

Remember, all submissions must be made in the comments section -- as in, NOT via e-mail -- by 10 p.m. California time on Sunday.

THE PICTURE
:

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[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

THE FUGEE
: Actress and wannabe rocker Juliette Lewis.

THE EXTRA DETAILS: Juliette, formerly the lead singer of Juliette and the Licks, now fronts a band called The New Romantiques. You may also remember her from the time she wore corn rows in her hair at the Oscars, back when she was dating Brad Pitt. We have an extensive archive of her past transgressions, some of which mention her magical song lyrics. In this photo, she's performing in Munich.

THE CHALLENGE
: Fug this outfit via an acrostic poem.  "What is an acrostic poem?" you may wonder. I'm so glad you asked. An acrostic poem is one in which the first letter or syllable of each line itself conveys a message or spells a relevant word. For instance, the obvious one here would be to write an eight-line poem in which the first letters of each line combine to spell JULIETTE (well, okay, the obvious one might be a ten-line poem where the first letter of each line combine to spell CRAZYPANTS, but whatever). Here are some examples of acrostic poems, which may be helpful to you in figuring out how you want to do this. You don't have to make yours as long as some of those are; they're just good showcases for the format. Consider it like sending a coded message through verse. So really, we're acting just like an episode of Alias. JUST LIKE IT. (Actually, if you read that Wikipedia page, you'll learn that last month, Arnold Schwarzenegger reportedly used an acrostic to convey a rude message to the California State Assembly that rhymes with "Duck Fu." That is... hilarious.)

THE REMINDER
:

Can you guys
Remember to post
All entries by 10 p.m. Sunday in the
Zesty comments section?
You guys know the drill.
Please keep it clean
And in the vein of the site itself.
Now, go forth this Friday the 13th and
Totally kick the ass of this
Sad acrostic message.
November 12, 2009
I don't know if K. Bell has changed stylists or started eating her Wheaties, or what, but she has been looking really cute lately. To wit:

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How cute is she? I think I would have worn a bracelet, but that is the nittiest of picks. Shall we take a gander at the back of this? Let's do:

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"Well? I'm wearing this damn thing. Now what am I supposed to do?"


Abbey Clancy here is a British celeb who has apparently been a very busy woman. She's engaged to British footballer Peter Crouch, after a rocky start to their relationship in which he dumped her in the middle of the 2006 World Cup via fax (!!!!!!!!) because he decided she was a cheating cokewhore (I paraphrase). He apparently ALSO issued a statement VIA HIS LAWYER that they'd broken up and he was never going to have anything to do with her again. THAT is way harsh. But anyhoodle, now they're engaged. In addition to dealing with all this dramz, it seems Abbey found time to be first runner-up on Britain's Top Model, do a modeling show with Janice Dickinson, be a contestant on Hell's Kitchen, model lingerie, and, it seems, live a busy and full life. Judging from this dress, she's also apparently a model for a secret version of Project Runway in which WAGS act as models for designers who happen to be legally blind:

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That appears to be: a bra, some haphazard tulle, and a variety of ribbon belts woven together to create what I believe Heidi Klum would dub, "a big old mess." I don't know about you, but I suspect there's a designer somewhere that is about to receive a very agitated fax.

About ten minutes after I started working on this piece, a reader e-mail came through that enclosed this picture and was titled, "Kellie Pickler, Age 43."

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And it's TRUE. This kid is 23, but you'd never know it. Now, I don't blame Kellie for wanting to distinguish herself from the cabal of country blondes -- Julianne Hough, Taylor Swift, Miranda Lambert, Carrie Underwood -- but the sedate hair plus the heavy dress, which looks like something a mature lady socialite would wear to a charity gala she's chairing, do nothing but add years to her.

Like, seriously, compare her to attendee Patricia Heaton, who is 51:
These Lindsay Lohan pieces are starting to write themselves.

It all starts with a gallery of pictures on pretty much any site, called something like, "Lindsay Lohan [insert variation on "staggers"] out of [insert name of Hollywood club] looking [insert synonym for deranged, sad, or 'the worse for wear.']"

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[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

Then comes the part where I throw up my hands and decry her lack of pants, and how she looks rumpled and tragic -- here, because she looks like she just bedded a pirate and then stole his wardrobe for the walk of shame.

Next up, of course, is the obligatory jump to a closer look at her face:

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