Golden Globes lovely and swetty Fug or Fab Carpet: Eva Longoria
I took one look at Eva in this dress and sighed, “Oh, look, it’s The Widow Longoria.”
Fine, a very buxom widow, but this whole thing just seemed so, “I am in mourning. YOU KNOW WHY. ME. ME!” Which I guess I should be okay with, seeing as how I have not walked a mile in her shoes, and thus don’t know what it feels like when your NBA player husband maybe cheats on you with your maybe-friend and then the papers find out about it. I’m sure it sucks. But this also would not be inappropriate at a funeral on a nighttime soap, where the corpse in question belongs to a very rich old man, and the widow in question is his young vixen of a wife who stands to inherit all his money, and who hates all his children — and who was recently seen wandering around town carrying How To Poison Your Rich Old Coot Of A Husband, except that he was killed by a gunshot and so everyone is scandalized. And she sits down at his funeral and lets one perfect tear fall down her cheek, and then announces she’s marrying the pool boy and that they’re all going to be very happy once she kicks the kids out of the house and cuts off their cash flow. So, you know, The Widow Longoria is clearly the hero of the piece.
Not the hero: Her makeup artist.
Are you chin and your lips SUPPOSED to be the same color? The answer is yes, if you are a consumptive, and NO if you are The Widow Longoria, star of Excuse Me While I Roll Around In Your Father’s Cash Pile While Consigning You To The Poor House.
I also kind of don’t like how pointy this dress makes her boobs look, but at least the dress has an interesting back with which to tempt us:
So, I can’t tell, in the end, how I feel: whether I don’t like this dress that much, I find it to be a hilarious statement of some ilk, or it’s actually slowly winning me over because the back is attractive and I really want to see that soap opera. It needs a better name, though. Like… I don’t know. Let’s just go with Smut House and be done with it.
Fine, a very buxom widow, but this whole thing just seemed so, “I am in mourning. YOU KNOW WHY. ME. ME!” Which I guess I should be okay with, seeing as how I have not walked a mile in her shoes, and thus don’t know what it feels like when your NBA player husband maybe cheats on you with your maybe-friend and then the papers find out about it. I’m sure it sucks. But this also would not be inappropriate at a funeral on a nighttime soap, where the corpse in question belongs to a very rich old man, and the widow in question is his young vixen of a wife who stands to inherit all his money, and who hates all his children — and who was recently seen wandering around town carrying How To Poison Your Rich Old Coot Of A Husband, except that he was killed by a gunshot and so everyone is scandalized. And she sits down at his funeral and lets one perfect tear fall down her cheek, and then announces she’s marrying the pool boy and that they’re all going to be very happy once she kicks the kids out of the house and cuts off their cash flow. So, you know, The Widow Longoria is clearly the hero of the piece.
Not the hero: Her makeup artist.
Are you chin and your lips SUPPOSED to be the same color? The answer is yes, if you are a consumptive, and NO if you are The Widow Longoria, star of Excuse Me While I Roll Around In Your Father’s Cash Pile While Consigning You To The Poor House.
I also kind of don’t like how pointy this dress makes her boobs look, but at least the dress has an interesting back with which to tempt us:
So, I can’t tell, in the end, how I feel: whether I don’t like this dress that much, I find it to be a hilarious statement of some ilk, or it’s actually slowly winning me over because the back is attractive and I really want to see that soap opera. It needs a better name, though. Like… I don’t know. Let’s just go with Smut House and be done with it.
