Fug File: Oh honey NO

Oscars YIKES Carpet: Naomie Harris


Did anyone bring a speculum? Because she might as well get her annual, as long as everything is out and ready.

[Photos: Getty]

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If I Was Your Fugfriend


There are so many atrocities herein that my soul is currently in hiding. But to start, if I may reinvent a well-worn quote from Mean Girls:

STOP TRYING TO MAKE CROTCH HAPPEN. IT’S NEVER GOING TO HAPPEN.

[Photo: Getty]

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The Fugent List


So, we’ve all heard by now — it was the giggle heard ’round the world — that J.Lo.Hew’s masterpiece of Kind Touchery, The Client List, is being made into a TV series. I have questions. How exactly is that going to work? Because in the movie (and I’m sure even if you haven’t seen it, this is not so much a spoiler as a mild WTF moment), it has a rosy ending wherein she gives up all the names of her clients in exchange for a reduced prison term for hooking, and then all the neighborhood wives ask her to give them sex tips through the use of fruit. BULL TRUE. So what is the series? Pretending none of that happened, and she’s still hooking? Pretending all of that DID happen, and the whole show is her giving booty seminars to harried housewives? Or pretending that all of that did happen and yet she still goes BACK to hooking, because the economy still blows harder than she does and also she actually totally liked it, and now there is demand that must be met with supply? What, is she an economist now? A Kind-Touching capitalist prostisseuse?

And is this the phase where she starts going Method? Because nothing screams “My touch is kind” like an animal-print genie jumpsuit. Or at least, I assume that’s what it is screaming. To be honest, and I am proud of this, I don’t speak Animal-Print Genie Jumpsuit all that fluently — just maybe some conversational slang at best.

[Photo: Pacific Coast News]

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Fugsia Raisa


I have had this sitting in my lightbox for a few days, hoping the perfect bon mot would come to me.

It has not. And while that may be due to my incapability of crafting the perfect bon mot, I think it’s because this outfit is so bad, the perfect bon mot would be wasted on it. Like putting truffle oil on tripe, or basting a shoe in peanut butter. Also, now, the phrase “perfect bon mot” has lost all meaning, to the point where my stomach is interpreting it as “perfect bonbon,” and now I just want candy. In a nutshell, then, this outfit is clearly making me fat. THANKS, outfit. I hope you’re happy with yourself, you piney satin balloon. I hope you at least made her car smell like Christmas.

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Who Fugged It more (Or Less): Cate Blanchett vs. Nicola Roberts


Hey, remember this, from about two years ago?

She is doing “Hello, lovers” before “HOLA LOVERS” was even a glint in J.Lo’s eyes. Personally, I think it was a test. She was like, “You think I can pull off anything, eh? Well how about GRANDMA’S AFGHAN?”

Fast-forward to Monday:

we’ve come so far in two years

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Fuggaback Girl


At first this doesn’t seem like much.

Bra strap, belly shirt, crazy shades that look like she should have on a head scarf and be in a convertible as some man from 1964 whisks her off for a mini-break… it’s just Gwen being Gwen.

In the words of Bonnie Tyler, turn around

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