Misc. Awards Shows

MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: Terri Seymour

I think Simon Cowell is a great judge on American Idol. But I'm beginning to suspect he is a lousy boyfriend.

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Half the advantage of dating him -- you know, aside from private jets, and the fact that he will go with you to the local beauty supply store on a Saturday afternoon (which I once witnessed them doing together) -- should be the brutal honesty. You know, the idea that if you so much as brushed the fabric of this jumpsuit with your elbow, he would roll his eyes and say, "I'm gonna be honest with you: That is absolutely terrible," or maybe, "If that's what you're gonna wear, then you'd better pack your bags tonight, because that's not going to be enough to keep you in any competition except for Survivor: M.C. Hammer's Harem." So either Terri Seymour made the mistake of not consulting him here, in which case she needs to install a videoconferencing terminal in her closet for when he's out of town, or Simon was only PRETENDING he could see her from behind the piles of "Bleeding Love" profits he was counting on the bed -- in which case, he had better hope that wall of Benjamins is whirling-stiletto-proof.

MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: LiLo

"WHAT UP, MTV nation, I am BACK!"

"It's me! Lindsay! Star of Mean Girls and and Freaky Friday and... let's skip a few here... ah yes, those commercials for the MTV Movie Awards! And Ugly Betty! And now I'm working on something else!  It's this movie about... stuff! GOOD stuff! Stuff where I don't play a stripper who loses all her limbs, or anything! I think! Anyway, I'm back and I'm in cute shoes and my pupils aren't weirdly dilated and I need my roots done, because I'm REAL yo, and I totally DO NOT CARE that my mother and my sister are trying to get famous by talking about me all the time on their dumb show. I am NOT bothered by the fact that they have their own press appearances and paparazzi attention, and like, I SO AM NOT EVEN WORRIED about the fact that more people have talked about my sister watching grainy footage on the Internet that CLAIMED to be me having sex, than they have about my current career prospects! IT'S FINE. I don't need to resort to any dumb publicity stunts for people to talk about me, like having a reality show, or wearing really short skirts that might blow up if a gust of wind magically comes by at EXACTLY the right moment, or... ahem, i SAID, IF A GUST OF WIND MAGICALLY COMES BY AT EXACTLY THE RIGHT MOMENT... Dammit, Samantha, I gave you ONE JOB... oh, ah, here we go:

MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: Charlize Theron

You know how it goes: It's a Monday, one weekend just ended and the next one is SO VERY FAR away, and I haven't had caffeine yet. Ergo, I have been staring and staring and staring at this photograph, wondering if there is ANY possible way that I have hallucinated it in my weakened condition.

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I mean... tell me honestly: Did I sleep through an apocalypse? Did a new world order declare a pox on willowy blondes, forever dooming them to weird shirts that don't fit? And why do I feel like her boobs are secretly angry robot eyes? Is it judging me? Is it going to replicate? Will a plague of cruel silver corsets rain down on my house later today and make me wear them with gladiator sandals and leggings? Does the new villainous race of cyborgs that clearly just took over our planet REALLY want to dredge up memories of Aeon Flux?

Most importantly, will a Diet Coke make this all go away? I think I owe it to myself to try.

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