I’m sure Kevin McHale is a nice person, and all — although every time I write his name, I think of the former Celtics player Kevin McHale, whom I hated primarily because I grew up in Los Angeles and there is no one a Los Angeleno child of the 80s hated more than the Boston Celtics. I mean, look: he is nice to small, adorable children:
That being said: WHAT. One of my Sims is LITERALLY wearing this right now. And he just peed himself. DON’T EMULATE THE SIMS.
I feel like it’s been awhile since Naya has hit the town in front of the cameras — we got her at the SAGs and the Globes and the Emmys, but not a ton in between. And maybe that’s a good thing. It seems something nefarious is clouding her judgment, or her mirror, so maybe it’s best she stick to sweatpants and the couch for a bit.
[Photos: Getty]
It’s been a very gown-filled week, so my judgment might be faltering, but I might like this?
The print, if you can’t tell from that distance, is little red mushrooms, which feels whimsical, and the cut (and this hairdo) are flattering. I also think this one hits the sweet spot for an Oscar viewing party: Fancier than those of us who watched in sweats, but not so fancy that you look like you think you’re going to the ACTUAL Oscars. Yes, now that I’ve worked out my feelings on you, Fug Nation, I’ve decided I like this.
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Never let it be said that Victor Cruz isn’t enjoying the HELL out of being a Super Bowl champ.
I am trying to remember the last event at which Naya Rivera basically carried the banner for all the Glee actors. And I can’t. I’m not sure it’s ever happened.
But it’s true: Agron was so-so, Lea Michele went all Slit Parade on us, Jenna Ushkowitz went as a couch designed by Maidenform, Amber Riley wore a massive bow on her boobs that was both twee and toppling, Jayma Mays was so close but not quite there thanks to her buttstream of fabric, and Heather Morris… well. The less remembered about that, the better. So that leaves Naya, who picked a beautiful yet understated gown and glimmered casually in it all night. It felt like nobody was quite paying attention; turns out they should have been.
[Photo: Getty]
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Fuga Michele
Listen, I just really want people to stop making me think I can see through their clothes.
EVERYONE is doing it. And some of them are doing it fine. This is maybe more of a hula funeral. But I can’t even tell anymore because, overall, I’m so WEARY of it. Let me miss it, you guys. Give me a chance to see if I wake up one day and yearn for a cascade of black lace over a nude underpinning. Spot me a breath, and then wait for me to take it in sharply in anticipation of the way the light tickles your torso Spanx. Allow my eyes to hunger for the sheen of psuedo-boob under your mourning shroud. And then we’ll talk.
And if that day never comes? Then we can talk about something else, and THAT will be equally refreshing.
[Photo: Getty]
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