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New York Fugging City

  1. new york fugging city
    The Fug Girls: But Who Do You Take Home to Mama AFTER the Super Bowl?With Super Bowl Sunday looming, football pundits worldwide are typing their fingers to the bone predicting who will step up, who will choke, and which commercials will be the most buzz-worthy. Sure, football is a group sport and there’s no “I” — or “Eli” — in “team,” but we can’t help boiling down the big game to its most fascinating matchup: the budding legend versus the legacy kid. How do Tom Brady and Eli Manning stack up, and more important, which one looks better in spandex? Let us be your guides. TABLOID APPEAL: Tom Brady has been all over the rags this year, thanks to his baby-mama drama with Bridget Moynahan and his ensuing photo-friendly relationship with Gisele. Whereas we only know from Wikipedia that Eli Manning is engaged; “Giants QB Really Digs College Sweetheart” probably won’t move any magazines unless he knocks her up with some baby joy. At Tom Brady’s house. Advantage: Tom. Unless you prefer keeping your private life private, but where’s the fun there?
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    The Fug Girls Pick the Worst of 2007Oscar bigwigs released this year’s crop of nominees Tuesday, but after the flop that was the Golden Globes (the opening night of awards season), it’s tempting to ignore Hollywood’s annual self-congratulation spree and embrace a good old-fashioned orgy of shame. That’s right, the Razzie Awards! They beat Oscar to the punch Monday, naming their choices for 2007’s very worst. As ever, the race for the Golden Raspberry is as tight as Burt Reynolds’s face. We can’t contain ourselves! So, we won’t: Read on for our exuberant choices as to who stank up the screen the most. Worst Supporting Actor Nominees: Orlando Bloom, Kevin James, Eddie Murphy, Rob Schneider, Jon Voight. Not to ruin his moment, but we dispute Orlando’s inclusion: He looked smoking hot in Yet More Pirates of the Caribbean, and that’s truly the most supportive an actor can be. Chuck & Larry’s problems go way beyond poor Kevin James, and, let’s face it, there’s no way Rob Schneider was any worse in that than he is in anything else. That leaves Jon Voight in Bratz (oy) and Eddie Murphy as Mr. Wong in Norbit, another of those parts he hogs because he’s a whore for latex makeup. But it’s Voight’s Razzie to lose, if only because seeing his name next to the word “bratz” makes us want to crawl back into the womb.
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    Tom Cruise: Crazy Like a Fugging Fox?This week a new Tom Cruise video hit the Web, believed to be an internal Scientology indoctrination reel (which we can’t confirm; although Tom’s words are definitely English, they make no sense in the unique order he’s chosen). Cruise stars as himself, a fervent believer who practically vibrates with devotion and punctuates his preaching with disturbingly enthusiastic cackles. It’s so weird that you can’t look away, and the timing couldn’t be better: Ol’ Couchjumper’s recent canon of cracky behavior has inspired such massive piles of intrigue and gossip that he’s become the subject of a book by professional-unauthorized-biographer Andrew Morton. The book attempts to unveil all the dark secrets of Cruise’s mysterious private life, including his not-so-casual involvement with Scientology — and now that this creepy video has hit the Web, Morton’s no doubt thanking the gods for their impeccable timing. But Morton’s reported inability to penetrate Cruise’s closed ranks has turned a hotly anticipated tell-all into a loosely sourced kitchen sink of a book that may, amazingly, do the Cruise camp more good than harm.
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    No Golden Globes? Now Everything’s Fugged UpAs Sunday night approaches and the Golden Globes’ “Night of a Thousand Yawns” press conference looms large and boring, we’re still struggling to absorb the fact that the whole affair will be void of the traditional pageantry. Usually, this is the time when we’re stocking up on Ruffles and dip in preparation for an evening on the couch, wondering if Cate Blanchett will wear Armani (possibly) or something metallic (probably) and laying bets on whether Nicole Kidman’s inevitable Balenciaga will successfully make her look less waxen (doubtful). But this year, no ceremony means no fashion parade: no hits, no misses, no Marchesa. Fine, the sacrifice is all in the name of union labor and whatnot — but will no one think of the outfits?
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    The Fug Girls’ Official Celebrity-Style Mandates for 2008Yes, it was the year of downward spirals, DUIs, and prison terms, but 2007 was also chockablock with stylistically challenged celebrities digging deep into their pocketbooks and shelling out for some new clothes and coifs — and as a result, of course, positive pro-makeover press. But now that the likes of Katie Holmes, Rihanna, and even — gasp — Fergie are all squared away, we’re turning an eye toward celebs who could use a similar style overhaul in 2008. Take Heath Ledger, for instance. He’s freshly single, starring in the newest Batman film, and generally young and hot. So it’s beyond us why he insists on slumping around Brooklyn unshaven and wearing a porkpie hat. Wouldn’t his career and personal life continue their upward trajectory with more oomph if he put on a sharp suit occasionally, instead of dressing like he’s gone Method to play the Joker? Juno star Ellen Page is poised to collect a lot of Hollywood hardware for her mantel/garage shelf/toilet lid. Yet so far she’s rarely worn anything but black or gray on the red carpet, often with an awkwardness evoking a kid eating her first meal at the adults’ table. With the spotlight headed her way, there’s no time like the present to go a bit more glam: Throw in some color, funk up the accessories, and turn the Everygirl into a woman. Done right, no one will remember who actually wins the damn awards.
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    The Fug Girls: Since When Is Jessica Simpson a Spinster?Now it really stinks to be Jessica Simpson. When her new boyfriend, Tony Romo, played his worst football game of the season in her presence, tabloids and his teammates alike christened her a walking curse. And last week, the cover of Us deemed her “Tortured by Regret” on the premise that she bailed on her marriage and now can’t keep a man. Essentially, at the ripe old age of 27, she’s been deemed a washed-up dud. We don’t even like her, and we think that’s rotten.
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    The Fug Girls: A New TV Diet for Spring!With Hollywood’s warring writers and producers seemingly spending more time on PR statements than negotiations, it’s going to be a long, wretched winter for television fans. To patch scheduling holes, networks are rushing out “mid-season replacements” (everything from game shows to reality hours) — essentially, shows that are handy in a pinch, but weren’t good enough to debut in the fall. It’s the idea that if there’s no water at the oasis, we’ll just drink the sand; too bad for them we’re not so easily satisfied. However, we ARE easily bored without our stories, so if our holiday wish for a speedy, fair strike resolution is impossible, then it’ll take some crafty TV-diet substitutions to get us through the drought. Here are a few simple swaps: American Gladiators. The show that brought us such spandex-wrapped warriors as “Turbo” and “Zap” obviously occupies its own vital place in TV history. But it also ably replaces the absent 24. Think about it: Jack Bauer runs a lot. He sweats. He does things to America, for America. And he likes to hit people with blunt objects. If he’d had the wherewithal to do it all with a Speedo and a tennis-ball cannon, you’d never even know the difference.
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    The Fug Girls Can’t Hardly Wait to Put on a BikiniSomehow, despite having a hit show on CBS, Jennifer Love Hewitt has always been best known as that girl from adolescent sob-fest Party of Five. But thanks to the recent combination of a revealing black bikini and a paparazzo’s long lens, she’s now most famous for the contours of her thighs. While having our cellulite plastered all over the Internet would have us crying into a bottle of tequila, Hewitt’s reaction — a quiet, sane post to her blog — was both low-key and dignified. So we’re wondering two things: Who knew Jennifer Love Hewitt, of all people, would become our real-girl hero, and why was she the first person to hit the high road?
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    The Fug Girls: Introducing the Good BoyFor the past year, the tabloids have been obsessed with Bad Girls and the rotating cabal of shaggy, greasy party boys who love them. But as public patience with self-destructive dim-bulbs like Paris Hilton and Britney Spears wanes, mags have cooked up a new dish for us to salivate over: the Good Boy. He’s sanitized, sexually harmless, and above all, as bland as an egg-and-egg omelette. In short, he is Gossip Girl’s Chace Crawford. Nothing against Crawford: He’s coming into his own playing troubled, rich pothead Nate Archibald, and it’s possible he secretly digs astrophysics, dog shows, and racing unicycles across shaky rope bridges. But if he is that well rounded, we won’t read about it anytime soon. The boy’s appeal lies in his intense (but not intimidatingly intelligent) eyes, carefully mussed hair, and TV show aimed squarely at the squalling teens who buy multiple copies of magazines so as to tape the pictures to their bedroom ceilings. Even his maybe-girlfriend Carrie Underwood described Chace’s appeal thusly: “He’s got cool hair, he’s a nice height, and he just has beautiful eyes.” How profound. Will they register at Sephora?
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    The Fug Girls: A Report Card for 2007’s Lawless LadiesWe were delighted by Tuesday’s news that Paris Hilton’s first major humanitarian effort involved encouraging people to stop making alcohol available to a roving gang of binge-drinking elephants in India. Given Paris’s countless inarticulate, heavy-lidded avowals that she would devote her post-prison life to charitable work, it seemed poetic than one of Hollywood’s most visible drunk party animals would gravitate to staging an intervention for actual drunk animals. Tragically, her publicist debunked the rumor, but it was too late: We were already reminiscing about the Summer of Legal Shenanigans, wondering how the midterm report cards of our favorite famous celebrity miscreants would look — and whether, as they promised, things are going to be different this time.
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    The Fug Girls Would like to Stop Being Gyllenspoon-fedFor months, the tabloids have obsessed over the alleged on-again, off-again courtship of Reese Witherspoon and Jake Gyllenhaal, countering their coy denials with blurry paparazzi photos and stories like “Reese’s Rebound Joy” or “Jake’s Brokeback Heart.” On paper, this intrigue should be interesting: two eligible A-list stars possibly bunking together, one with an Oscar and ex-husband suspected of cheating, and the other the subject of countless gay rumors who is coincidentally — or not — best known for getting fake-freaky in a mountain tent with Heath Ledger. So why can’t we be arsed to care?
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    The Fug Girls: It’s a Halloween Roundup!Hollywood is already practically one big costume party, so it’s unsurprising that celebrities go nuts dressing up on Halloween — the one night of the year they can let their inherent terrible taste run wild. But don’t let our festive holiday eye-patches fool you. We are watching and judging, because in the celebrity world there’s no such thing as a free pass. After the jump, a look at who scored, and who merely whored…
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    The Fug Girls: Taking a Peek Inside Karl Lagerfeld’s Mind of SteelEven in an industry full of eccentrics, Chanel’s Karl Lagerfeld is an icon: those omnipresent shades, the man-jewelry, and, of course, the leather glove, which lends his style that special “ringmaster at a Michael Jackson–themed circus” feel. So when filmmaker Rodolphe Marconi touted his new documentary Lagerfeld Confidential as a profound peek behind The Kaiser’s sunglasses, we had to investigate — after all, this is the man who once told Elle, “It’s too easy to forgive. I love revenge.” What could be better than an hour and a half of that?
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    The Fug Girls Like It When Ellen CriesUntil this week, we’ve known Ellen DeGeneres as unfailingly cheery, a boogie-happy sprite in khakis and Converse. Yet when Ellen opened her talk show Tuesday uncharacteristically red-eyed and weepy, we — after first double-checking that no one had died or anything — began to appreciate the bizarre display, because it represented something so rare in television: actual honesty. Fascinating!
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    Can New York Help Save Lindsay Lohan?In the past year, you couldn’t drop a tabloid on your bathroom floor without it falling open to a sad story about Lindsay Lohan, be it for wearing drug-laced pants or her unfortunate habit of leaving rehab and promptly face-planting into a puddle of booze. So it stands to reason that her most recent exit from Utah’s Cirque Lodge has put the celeb-watching world on high alert for her first misstep. But! What if it never happens? What if, against all odds, Lohan actually dared to use rehab for, you know, rehabbing?
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    It’s Time to Put Britney Behind Us In a celebrity gossip-feeding culture that thrives on people’s love of soap operas and Schadenfreude, Britney Spears’s myriad, poorly dressed tragedies generally make bloggers weep with glee. But this week, Brit’s latest downward spiral has ventured into tragic territory: She’s lost custody of her kids and, according to OK! magazine, she’s on suicide watch. Though our fascination with the macabre justifies obsessing and/or cackling about Brit’s missteps (see VMAs), these latest developments have inspired a different kind of reaction: pity. Britney’s problems have crossed over into the sincerely unfunny zone, and it’s time for us to look away. For good.
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    We’re Getting Really Fugging Bored With Actress Catfights.It’s the oldest story in the book: Girl meets casting agent, girl joins female-centric ensemble TV show, girl becomes part of salacious rumors about how all the women resent each others’ fame and want to toss each other into the nearest lily pond. First it was Sex and the City, then Desperate Housewives and Brothers and Sisters; now, the awkwardly titled Women’s Murder Club is getting into the action despite not having even aired yet. Take any show starring more than one woman, and lather, rinse, repeat.
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    Why the Fug Isn’t Anybody Paying Attention to Michael Jackson? With the Jolie-Pitts invading the city in their armored SUVs, we’re hardly surprised that other celebrity tidbits have been swept under the rug — clearly, by-the-hour updates of what Maddox is up to at the park would supersede news of what Tinsley has done with her hair, or which blast of hot air most recently burst from Trump’s blowhole. But for America’s First Family to eclipse even the dramatic return of deposed King of Pop Michael Jackson and his theatrically veiled kids … does that mean we’re ready to forgive and forget with America’s most (in)famous man-child? Or is it that no one can be bothered to care?
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    Five Simple Rules for Being a Successful Teenage CelebrityHeroes star Hayden Panettiere celebrated her 18th birthday Tuesday, capping a week of paparazzi obsessively capturing her every step, likely in hopes that they’ll nab yet another child actress in the throes of coming-of-age hedonism. But thus far Hayden has bucked the trend, managing to keep out of rehab and in the squeaky-clean spotlight. To help her stay on this very right track, we suggest Hayden learn from the varied fates of those who came before her.
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    The Fug Girls: Team K-Fed?If you’d suggested last summer — or even this past spring — that sleazy miscreant Kevin Federline would someday have the favor of both public opinion and his mother-in-law, we’d have smiled supportively and sent you to Promises. But as the ugly custody battle between Britney Spears and her infamous sperm donor rages on, with K-Fed’s lawyer now sending legal papers to Brit’s bodyguard and former assistant, the man who once accurately rapped that he’s “America’s Most Hated” has gone from poster boy for bottom-feeders to potential Father of the Year.
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    Fug Girls: Even the Tabloids Are Giving Up At first, we thought it was the summer heat making us numb and irritable. But Us Weekly’s recent “Hollywood’s Hot Dads” cover, focused on the hot-as-lemonade Jason Priestley, confirmed that what we’re actually suffering from is crippling gossip ennui. Even the tabloids are deathly bored of the current crop of celebrity shenanigans.
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    Fug Girls Trend Report: Prison Is So Hot Right Now With Paris fresh out of the big house, Nicole heading to the joint, and Lindsay likely facing some slammer time, it’s beginning to look like prison is the new black. Forget worrying about what this says about the youth of America and its corresponding societal decay. What we want to know is what the bandwagon will look like when it leaves the station as this passion for incarceration becomes the next hot social and fashion fad. Step aside, cool hunters. After the jump, read the top-secret trend forecast companies pay top ducats for.
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    The Fug Girls See the End-Times Coming Scanning the horizon for signs of the apocalypse, we don’t see any plague, pestilence, or marks of the beast. But is that Paris Hilton cuddling the Bible? Hollywood’s recent headlines point only to end-times. Take heed, and take cover. The signals are after the jump.
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    The Fug Girls: We’ll Always Have Paris, Even When We Don’tWe’ve long suspected that the weak, clammy feeling in our bones was Paris fatigue and not wicked heatstroke. So it warmed our hearts when Us Weekly editrix Janice Min vowed that the July 9 issue of the celebrity weekly would be devoid of Ms. Hilton. What a beautiful, blessed social experiment: a world without Paris, as imagined by some of the people who helped create the monster in the first place. Could Us Weekly really be peddling such a Utopia? And if so, what would it look like?
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    The Fug Girls vs. Paris Hilton vs. Larry KingWe’ve all been wondering what it was really like for Paris in jail. How did she find God? Did she join a gang? Are reports of profound navel-gazing true, or was she actually just staring at her navel? Tonight, in her first televised post-prison interview, we have a shot at getting the answers. In one corner: The vapid heiress and her angelic assertions that the clink caused her to drop the dumb act and devote her life to philanthropy. In the other: CNN’s Larry King, who is so adept at pitching softballs that he’s practically the honorary captain of the U.S. national team. Truly, it’s a clash of titanic intellects. And because we love you, we’ll volunteer to go down with the ship, live-blogging what threatens to be a fatuous hour of toothless interrogation so that you don’t have to deign to watch. Aren’t we nice?
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    We’ll Always Have ParisThought we’d forgotten something? Oh, no. Not at all. We’re as excited as you are for tonight’s clash of titans: the Paris Hilton–Larry King interview. (A brief aside: Perhaps our favorite pairing of sentences to have ever appeared in an American newspaper comes from Larry King’s now-defunct USA Today column. “You’d have to go far to find a worse airport than New York’s LaGuardia,” he wrote on April 16, 2001. “Do I eat meat in Paris or London?” Indeed.) Who will be more nonsensically vacuous? Find out tonight when the Fug Girls live-blog the Thrillio in a Studio, starting at 9 p.m. Eastern. Right here at Daily Intel. Stay tuned.
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    The Fug Girls Are Posh Apologists It’s going to be hard to escape David Beckham this summer, especially when the lavishly coifed soccer god arrives in Los Angeles to play for the Galaxy. But for us, the main event isn’t Becks: It’s his wife, Posh (a.k.a. Victoria). When NBC announced it had slashed the promised summer reality series about the pair’s move from six full episodes to a one-hour blip of a special, and we heard that no one showed up to her DVB clothing launch at Saks last week, it almost crushed our spirit. Because we love Posh — every last overtanned, surly inch of her — and we have to wonder: Does no one understand her like we do?
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    Whoopi, Paris Win Fug Girls’ Real-Life Daytime Emmys Friday’s Daytime Emmy Awards telecast will honor soap-opera actors for so artfully telling tales of babynapping, tainted face cream, faked deaths, and secret cancer. As a tribute to those invaluable contributions, we’d like to acknowledge some of their real-world counterparts, the hard-luck celebs starring in their own melodramas.
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    The Fug Girls: Paris Hilton’s Prison Diary Things just have a habit of springing open around Paris Hilton, but this time, it wasn’t her legs: The haughty heiress walked out of her prison cell early this morning after serving only five days of her already-reduced 23-day sentence. The Big House was causing her mental distress, she claims, so Paris will instead return to her own big house and wear a kicky anklet for the next 40 days. So what really happened? Until her hyped prison diary is somehow released, nobody will know — which is why we are so fortunate to have uncovered some exclusive excerpts.
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    The Fug Girls Crown the Next ‘It’ Party Girl With Paris Hilton summering in the slammer and Lindsay Lohan going cold turkey (again), America’s paparazzi, bartenders, and boy toys can breathe a sigh of relief. But it’ll be brief: With the tabloids’ two most popular subjects locked away, there’s a gaping hole atop the celebustarlet hierarchy, and Hollywood, like nature, abhors a vacuum. Who’s most likely to seize the “It” Party Girl crown?
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    The Fug Girls: How to Hire a Celebrity Fashion Designer Desperate to join the ranks of retailers who’ve used celebrities for brand cachet, cheapie clothier Steve + Barry’s has decided to follow up its first attempt — Sarah Jessica Parker’s fashion line Bitten — by partnering with actress Amanda Bynes. Who? Exactly. Either Steve + Barry only watch Nickelodeon, or the founders just haven’t had a proper lesson in picking the proper celebrity to pimp their wares. Thank God we’re here with some sage advice (after the jump). You’re welcome, boys.
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    The Fug Girls Question Lindsay Lohan’s Magic 8 BallSure, we’ve all heard that Lindsay Lohan was allegedly hoovering enough blow to kill a horse, but seeing it in black and white (thanks to Brit paper the News of the World) is another matter. Now, the once-charming Lohan seems poised to torch her remaining potential and snort its ashes off a toilet seat. If those who don’t learn history are doomed to repeat it, then Lindsay, get studying: The outlook is bleak, based on what’s come before you. Here are five possible career arcs, and our bets on which Lohan will follow. 1. The Enabled Addict Lohan’s coke tape plays like a sequel to the Great Kate Moss Scandal of 2005. If the parallels continue, she’ll spend about a month feigning remorse until people recommence ignoring her problems, then she’ll begin a gross on-off relationship with a drugged-out loser while her looks fade.
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    The Fug Girls: Plaster of Paris Just when we thought we’d seen all there is to see of Paris Hilton, along comes the opportunity to pick through her internal organs. Brooklyn artist Daniel Edwards — the man who created the statue of Britney Spears giving birth naked on a bearskin rug — is trying to turn the pointless heiress into socially conscious modern art. Crazy? Yes. And also no.
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    Fug Girls: ‘All My Children’ Goes Transgender But Loses Fashion SenseOn Friday, the ABC soap All My Children will conclude its groundbreaking, GLAAD-award-winning six-month story of Zarf — a male rocker who came to terms with his inner woman, and started living and dressing as Zoe. Here was a unique opportunity: Fabulous clothes and progressive gender politics. Unfortunately, the wardrobe department blew it, and Zoe’s frumpy outfits caused the storyline to trip and tumble on chunky-heeled pumps.
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    Madonna as the Maternal Girl: Bad CastingMadonna is famous and infamous for her sinful buffet of personas. She’s been a geisha, a virgin, and a dominatrix, but she’s always been an original. Which is what’s so troubling about her latest reinvention. Why is she trying to be Angelina Jolie?
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    ‘Top Design’ Was Too Dull Even for Basic Cable Last night, Bravo’s interior-decorating contest Top Design aired its season finale. Not that you’d know it: Though the climaxes of the hip network’s reality shows for creative types have generated mild (Top Chef) to major (Project Runway) buzz, nobody’s watercoolers are atwitter today with gossip about whether Matt’s monochromatic loft deserved to win. In fact, the only chatter we heard amounted to an anemic, “Is that still on?” And with good reason. Top Design stank.
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    Kate’s Topshop Line: Perfect Clothes for the Hungry and SullenWhen beloved British cheap-chic palace Topshop announced that it won’t be coming to the United States after all, we were bereft. Where would we get discount-retail relief from the increasingly Xanadu-fugly clothes being shoved on us by H&M? And more important, how could we ogle the new line being developed for Topshop by disgraced and rapidly regraced supermodel Kate Moss? Lucky for us, Topshop has put a sneak peek of the Kate clothes online. (They’ll be at Barneys New York next month.) Unlucky for Kate, we actually went to the site for a quick browse. And, in a word: snore. Maybe the chain was yearning for clothes that would only look good on people who are hungry and sullen? If so, then Topshop hit the jackpot.
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    Free Heather Mills’s Leg! We’ve been gripped lately with a harrowing fascination that shames us to the core. Someone we love to hate has given us something we love to love, and the resulting struggle to reconcile the contradiction has left us feeling a little, well, dirty. We’re referring, of course, to our dark obsession with Heather Mills’s fake leg.
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    Dressing for Community-Service Success, Naomi-Style Most people don’t show up for court-mandated community service at the garbage dump wrapped in a luxe gray fur. Then again, most people don’t try to discipline the help by smacking them with a bejeweled cell phone. So we shouldn’t be surprised that supermodel Naomi Campbell raised the bar on celebrity penance this week. For the last few days, Our Lady of the Bitch-Slap has sauntered in to work as if she’s moonlighting at Condé Nast rather than the Sanitation Department, dressed in a parade of outfits that included high-heeled boots, fedoras, and jackets in fur and leather. Don’t forget omnipresent giant, dark sunglasses — no doubt vital for guarding her anonymity. And for that exhibition, frankly, we salute her. Naomi might be battier than a Transylvania attic, but at least she’s giving back to society by providing her sad, bored comrades with something stellar to gawk at. In fact, the other celebrities headed for the purgatory of community service could take a few lessons from her. And so we present a Celebrity Guide to Giving Back With Glamour, as we imagine Naomi Campbell would have told it to us.
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    Let Rosie Be Rosie! It probably can’t be a coincidence that in the same week rumors surfaced that she’ll stay on The View another year, co-host Rosie O’Donnell announced she’s laying down her machete in her very loud, very public, and very ugly feud with Donald Trump. In the last several months, people have jumped on every challenging statement to drip from Rosie’s mouth – whether daring to call into question the solvency and taste of our most perplexingly follicled business blowhard or suggestion racism by the producers of America’s most cherished and holy institution (American Idol). Rumor had it that View boss Barbara Walters was displeased with her new hire, even hated her. Elisabeth Hasselbeck found herself on the other end of a Rosie rant and started crying a lot. Web site and magazine polls eagerly asked readers if Ro should go, and the answers trended toward yes. So why bring her back? Two words: ratings and publicity, both of which The View garnered in spades over the last year. But now the confluence of her new contract and her surprising attempt to take the high road with Trump have us worried the producers have convinced Rosie to dilute herself. And we can’t be the only ones with the fervent hope that’s not the case.
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    Socialites and Starlets Face Off in a Coast-to-Coast Battle Royale! New York socialites and Hollywood starlets have traditionally inhabited two separate celebrity worlds. Never mind the continent between them; they also do different things. Society girls bring attention to disfiguring diseases by wearing designer dresses to galas, while their Hollywood counterparts spend evenings talking their way into free drinks at the latest hot bars, usually not wearing any underwear. And, for years, each group has seemed content to remain within its own orbit. Until now. The Great New York Socialite Invasion of 2007 hit Los Angeles when Tinsley Mortimer and Fabiola Beracasa descended for some Oscar post-parties. It was the first sign of cross-pollination between the two PR-grubbing groups, and we fear it will not go smoothly. Will the L.A. girls tolerate the New Yorkers moving in on their turf? Will the East Coasters give the locals the respect they demand? A battle royale could be in the works. Here’s who we see poised for face-offs — and who we predict will be left standing at the end, triumphantly clutching a bloodied hair extension.
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    Fugging the OscarsFor most of the red-carpet dog-and-pony show, we were perplexed by Jennifer Hudson’s froofy gold bolero made of alligator skin (or croc? snake? whatever — the point is, it was fashioned after the hide of something that would eat us if we gave it the chance). That is, until the ABC broadcast began, and deliciously flamboyant Vogue man-about-town André Leon Talley introduced a montage of his efforts at helping Hudson get a custom-made Oscar de la Renta. We should have known. From his fetish for reptilian textures to his recent penchant for tacky coats, Hudson’s hella-shiny jacket does scream A.L.T. more than anyone. Too bad for her that the Supporting Actor/Actress awards were moved to later in the ceremony; now she has to wait until much nearer to the end to exhale and get drunk. Still, there’s plenty for us to write about, even if the early awards are probably the more boring ones. Without further ado, allow us bitches to bring you the blogged-up 79th Annual Academy Awards.
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    The Fug Girls Live-Blog the Oscars We can’t think of a better way to kick off our new weekly column for the Daily Intelligencer than by starting on the night of the Celebrity Superbowl. On Sunday we’ll be live-blogging the entire Oscar telecast, from the opening credits at 8 p.m. to the orchestra playing off the Best Picture winners because the show’s run over and the limo lines outside are starting to break traffic laws. So go load up your cooler with Cheetos and Red Bull — we’ve all got a lot of snarking ahead of us.
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    The Fug Girls Watch the ‘Runway’ Finale, Have Warm HeartsLast night, our long national nightmare ended, and we all found out who took home Project Runway’s big prize. The triumph of alleged cheater Jeffrey Sebelia, that tattooed bad boy turned emotional wreck, moved us to misty eyes … but did we all respect ourselves for it in the morning? Fug Girls Heather and Jessica hash it out over IM. Heather: I’ve never been so happy to be slightly wrong. Jessica: I know! Somehow, during the course of this episode, I decided I really wanted Jeffrey to win. Heather: I am a sucker for a heartwarming story, and his is a doozy. Drugs! Attempted suicide! The crushing pain of an epic neck tattoo! Adorable offspring! It’s all there.
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    The Fug Girls Play Bookie, Make ‘Project Runway’ OddsWe’re not really betting women — well, except for all those days at the track, and those weekends in Vegas, and that football pool. Oh! And March Madness. Okay, so we are really betting women. With the finale of Project Runway mere hours away, here’s a highly unreliable, knee-jerk handicapping of the four designers left. Our incredibly unscientific odds-making methods include weighing the snippets of finished outfits and works-in-progress that we saw in last week’s episode; combing through the photo galleries of Laura, Michael, Jeffrey, and Uli’s respective runway shows; and using our finely honed psychic abilities to read Michael Kors’s mind. (Oh, he’s not going to send us any dresses, but he does like your hair like that. So good job, you). So what odds are we giving?
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    The Fug Girls Watch the ‘Project Runway’ FinaleThe Fug Girls are some of our favorite fashion experts — you may remember their splendid snarksmanship from nymag.com’s Fashion Week coverage — so we asked them to weigh in on the Project Runway finale. We now present the first in a two-part series. For the first half-hour of part one of the Project Runway finale, we were just twiddling our thumbs waiting for all the finger-pointing to start. Sure, seeing Michael Knight’s dad leading a prayer circle was nice, and we never get tired of five unruly Laura Bennett spawns creating havoc in her house while she cleans up turtle poop in enviably glam dresses and heels. And though we were interested in the clothes — would Uli Herzner show up with twelve identical sundresses in mildly different splashy prints? Might Jeffrey Sebelia arrive wearing a tee reading “Save Angela’s Mom”? — what we really wanted to see was the big drama everyone knew was coming: Laura accusing Jeffrey of cheating. And we had to wait almost 40 minutes for that.