Celebrity Fashion Disasters

Uh.  Dude.  I am so sick of Victoria Beckham walking out of her house, looking like a damn frigged up fool.  Does she realize that this dress makes her look like she has grown copious amounts of back hair?  Honestly, that fur makes me think that, secretly, her shoulder blades are so covered with fuzz, it’s starting to creep out of the back of her dress.  Think Adam Sandler’s 8 Crazy Nights.  You know Whitey?  Without his shirt, on the basket ball court?  Yeah.  “Posh” here could be the illegitimate progeny of Whitey and his imaginary wife.

Beckham signature?  Only if that “signature” involves not knowing out to dress.  Also, I don’t know what’s going on with V-Beck’s torso here, but her boob area looks seriously messed up and it’s making me uncomfortable.  I will say, I can totally understand why she and Katie Holmes are so completely BFFs.  Clearly they shop at the same haute couture dumpster.

In closing I would just like to say that this dress looks like something leftover from the recent Drag Queen challenge on Project Runway.

Clearly, Paula Abdul must have woke up and found that she “was Spellbound,” to go outside of her house in that dress.  I feel so sorry for this woman.  Honestly, I don’t know if she’s a total addict, completely oblivious, or a combination of the two.

I do know one thing, though.  If Simon Cowell can critique the daylights out of every single American Idol wannabe in life, why doesn’t he mosey on over to Paula’s house before she goes out in public, and make her cry in order to keep celebrity fashion disasters like this from happening?  Because seriously?  In all honest?  This looks like a Barbie doll dress.  One of the Bob Mackie ones that no one really wants to buy because they’re ass ugly — but they buy them anyway so that they can say they own something “original.”

Either that, or she’s trying to look like Cher, ala Mermaids.  Brrrr…

I can’t … I just … I am so sick of her.  I am sick — and tired.

I don’t even know what to say anymore.  I really don’t.  I don’t even know if there’s anything worth saying.  I mean, okay.  She’s getting photographed everywhere with her frigging pants legs cuffed into frigging capris, and then there’s this steaming hot mess.

This is Kat(i)e Married-to-a-Crazy-Midget Holmes at the Tropic Thunder premiere.  You should she the rest of the pictures: Kate and Tom — how suburban WASP, oh my! — grinning maniacal, shark like grins at the photographer, as if they are preparing to devour him.  Like either of them have any right to be grinning.  Like they have something to be proud of.

I don’t know what’s with the apparent grip tape — or is that pleather?  or vinyl?  jeezum crow! — binding her up.  I don’t get the bodice at all.  But more than anything I don’t get that unflattering, poofy helmet of a hairstyle.  Seriously, it’s like she’s preparing herself to be the suburban, Scientologist housewife.  Soon, those rolled up jeans will turn into mom jeans, complete with high water hems.  She’ll be telling the soccer coach not to put any antiseptic spray onto Suri’s scraped knee, because ZOMG IT’S OF THE DEVIL!

I have issues with Maggie Gyllenhaal. For one thing, she looks too much like Kirsten Dunst – enough to make me think that Mrs. Gyllenhaal secretly had triplets, but clearly had to give Kirsten up for adoption because of her horribly mutated teeth and snark-kitten face. For another, I alone in all the world have not yet seen the new Batman flick (I am waiting until I am more emotionally prepared), yet all I hear about is how she is the sole, steaming piece of crap in the entire film. Well great, Maggie, thanks; they should have starred your brother as the leading lady, he’d likely have more chemistry with the sorely missed Health Ledger anyway, and with the Dark Knight himself.

But anyway, the dresses she’s worn on the premiere junket – holy serious celebrity fashion disasters, Batman! She looks like crap, too!

1. I had horrible pajamas like that once. I thought they were “sexy.” It was 1997 and I was 15. What does that tell you, Maggie?

2. I think maybe that wouldn’t be so bad except that … wow, toga. Velvet toga. Clearly right after this she was going to a photo shoot for cover of the new bared-heaving-bosom romance novel.

3. I … hm. Is she … she’s wearing a very visible bra, under safety-cone, fluorescent orange. But look close – is that a frigging slip, too? What … I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t even think of anything to describe that horror. She’s like an emaciated, sloppy pumpkin. She’s like that one grade school teacher who always had her bra strap or her slip hem showing.

4. Just … wear a flipping burlap sack next time, you insufferable, oblivious, sloppy cow.

You know, maybe there is something to the idea that a vengeful (and equally fashion impaired) Katie Holmes had something to do with this…