3 photos in galleryFrankly, I’d rather read “Katie Holmes: Her Second Act.” Except isn’t it her third act? Or is Vogue discounting the Dawson’s-to-Cruise years as mere prologue? For shame, A-Dubs.
[Photos: Vogue]
Fug File: Fug The Cover
Letter of Truth: Fug the Cover
OH Y’ALL. I have thoughts:
Remember my song LUCKY? “She’s so lucky/she’s a star/but she cries cries cries in her lonely heeeeeaaaaaaaaaaart, thinking:/’If there’s nothing missing in my LIIIIIIIIIIIFFFFE/then whhhhhhhhhy dooooooooooo the tears come at night?’” Obviously you do because that song is amazing. It’s on the top ten list of Favorite Britney Spears Songs With Spoken Interludes In Them, a list made by me, Britney Spears. (Obviously “Oops” is number one because it’s so timeless.) Tonight, the tears are coming because Lucky decided to paste someone else’s face and someone else’s hair on someone else’s body and tell everyone it’s me when, y’all, I didn’t even pose for this photo and didn’t even know I was on the cover of Lucky until I put on some sweatpants and went outside and got my mail and found this between my Lillian Vernon catalog and the Doritos Locos taco I stuck in the mailbox to save for later and then forgot about. And Jason was all, “Baby, don’t worry about it. Now you know what it would look like if you kidnapped Faith Hill and went all Silence of the Lambs and decided to wear her face” and I was all, “why don’t you shut up? You don’t own me and I don’t even know what that means” and he was all, “actually legally I kinda do own you in a way because of the conservatorship situation” and then I threw a milkshake in his face. I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS HAPPENING THE SAME WEEK THAT JUSTIN MARRIED WHATSHERNAME. (But I’d like to thank my friends at People for sticking a wee tiny picture of me looking hot on the same cover of as them because it’s like I’m saying I’M WATCHING YOU TWO because guess what? I AM.) At least my outfit is cute.
Fug file: Fug The Cover
Fug or Fab the Cover: Rihanna
This is the first time in a long time that I’ve looked at Vogue and thought the cover was compelling. The “I Love to Have Fun” pull-quote feels like it ought to be on the cover of Seventeen, but Rihanna is killing it in that dress and — as Tyra would say — she has mastered the art of the smize. In fact, I assume Tyra is reading this issue at home (eating nachos and wearing a caftan, because in my imagination that is how Tyra rolls off-hours) and talking about smizing RIGHT NOW.
Loading ...[Photo: Vogue.com]
Also posted in Fug or Fab , Vogue, Rihanna
Letter of Truth: WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING WITH MY AD
Hey y’all,
Y’all. You KNOW I am really busy with the X-Files when you see the ad for my new perfume which is a mix of my two other perfumes or my perfume and someone else’s perfume or…okay, listen, I don’t really know what I’m selling. BUT LOOK AT IT. I would like to testify that I had nothing nothing nothing to do with anything that had anything to do with this:
Who wants to buy a perfume that turns your hair brown and makes you all impervious to gravity OR one that MAKES FEATHERS COME OUT OF YOUR ARMPITS?? That seems like a TERRIBLE THING TO HAPPEN. Y’all, I know everyone on my “team” thinks I’m secretly kinda dumb but even I know that no one wants to buy something that turns you into a bird.
Everyone’s fired. Seriously, all y’all. Fired. GET OUT.
Love,
BRITNEY.
Fug file: Fug The Cover, Fug the Ad, Hot Right Now, Britney Spears
@SushGopalan @HHCGuiltFree Aw, thank you! We try, and it's nice to know that people see that we try. -H
Fug or Fab the Cover: Anne Hathaway on Glamour
We’ve gotten a lot of requests from Fug Nation that we address this cover, and we hate to disappoint.
Let’s start with the good: Anne’s face looks gorgeous and fabulous, especially compared to the droopy dullard Vogue made her out to be. This is actually, energy-wise, the exact opposite. This person has been drinking carrot juice spiked with Red Bull; that other lady hasn’t stood up in three days because her servants are really good at peeling her grapes and giving sponge-baths. Second, her tank top is in support of Eve Ensler’s One Billion Rising campaign to educate people about — and call them to arms to fight — violence against women, and no one can argue the nobility of that message. So good for Glamour and Anne for getting the word out.
However, the rest of this seems like she’s about to pop on those giant headphones, put on some candy-pink legwarmers, and go for a jog that ends with impromptu jazzercise in the park, before maybe getting pulled on-stage with Bruce Springsteen during his “Dancing In The Dark” video. So essentially, she’s 1980s Courteney Cox right now. And that’s not necessarily bad. It might even be Fun. But full of Sex and Style it isn’t. Particularly when I can see her bra — it’s like a dark shadow undercutting her cause’s logo — and those granny panties are bunching all over her stomach. I don’t know. If she’d put on some pants, though, I’d kind of like to hang out with this genuinely smiley Anne. I could even deal with it if she didn’t put on pants, I suppose, as long as she bopped around all day with a Sports Walkman connected to the end of those headphones, because that would be hella entertaining. But I can’t help but wonder why they went to those weird styling extremes when that head, the tank top, and better decorations around it would’ve been appealing without the feeling of being a) in a time warp, or b) being too exhausted by her incomparable oozing energy even to heave the magazine off the newsstand.
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