Fug File: polterwang
Poor Nicki Minaj.
But really, in the forty-five minutes I assume it took to put this on today, she should have considered that stuffing her coin-purse into her groin would make it nigh on impossible to buy herself a noontime Diet Coke without an accompanying public-nudity arrest.
So, I guess Isabel Lucas is in Transformers 2, and was the passenger in Shia LaBeouf’s infamous car accident in which he broke his hand. Apparently, she was uninjured; now, though, I’m a trifle concerned that she did, in fact, sustain a very mild head injury that went unnoticed.
Is it possible to become selectively blind after a fender-bender? Or to lose one’s perspective when it comes to, say, measurements or lengths? Or the amount of time it takes to do something? Specifically, is it conceivable that she bruised the part of her brain that says, “Hey, it’s taking ten minutes to zip up these shorts — maybe that means these shorts are heinously stupid”? You know it’s bad from the waist down when I don’t even CARE about her hat. I haven’t seen pants that awkward since I volunteered at a nursing home in Grade 11. Or the last college football game I attended, at which most of the rich old donors wore these exact shorts with spirit t-shirts tucked really tightly into them, as they sat in front of their RVs and ate bratwursts. But a zipper as long as a 20-ounce bottle of Diet Coke seems a TAD unnecessary on a girl who’s only 24, not to mention it’s giving her a whisper of polterwang. And there is nothing good about that, aside from what a great book/band/album title A Whisper of Polterwang might be. Note to self…
I understand that Solange here was performing at San Francisco’s gay-pride parade — the symbolism of the rainbow colors isn’t lost on me:
But did it HAVE to go here? Did she HAVE to treat this event like she’s the lone athlete representing Fugdavia at the Olympics? It looks like she’s singing the country’s national anthem — “Let’s Get Fugical,” featuring the memorable lyrics, “Let’s get fugical, fugical… I wanna get fugical… ’cause polterwang is lovable” — before launching herself down a luge track. Who knows, maybe she’ll surprise us all and do that in Vancouver in 2010. Now THERE’S a way to upstage her sister.
Ever wonder why we argue so stridently against The Romper?
I assume this answers all your questions.
This is not okay. Not even if Jennifer Hudson IS secretly knocked up, as is the tasty rumor making the rounds.
[Photo: Splash News]
In fact, unless she is holding up her arms in surrender — as if to say, “Yes, Officer, I am currently possessed by the spirit of an aggressive Polterwang that haunted Jennifer Beals’ closet when she was in Flashdance, so please arrest me and take me somewhere that can exorcise the demon and return me to my usual adorable and packageless self” — then I simply cannot look at this outfit with anything but the urge to beat my brains out with an old VHS tape.
As you all know, we used to find Rumer Willis really frustrating, as one of the primary examples of celebuspawn who often act they’re entitled to their own slice of the fame pie just because they are genetically tied to people we HAVE embraced. But you probably also know — and if not, well, I’m mentioning it now — that we can’t help feeling some sympathy for the kid, too, because Demi Moore is her mother. And Demi Moore, whether with constant help or just a little here and there or just a lot of sex with her young stallion husband, appears to get hotter every time she leaves the house. So what went from annoyance at Rumer trying to bait the paps into photographing her at Kitson kind of morphed into us rooting for the kid, as she got parts in The House Bunny and tried to make it work as an actual actress who receives paychecks and might get her face on DVD packaging someday.
So let’s start off with some pros: Rumer is figuring out something nice to do with her hair. And she’s not wearing a dress that’s hell-bent on dropping off or drooping to the side and exposing her braless boobs. These are all major advances.
But her nice tailored suit jacket would’ve looked SO MUCH BETTER with something other than high-waisted hot pants that sag at the crotch, creating either the world’s saddest and least manly polterwang, or the illusion that her pelvis is smirking.