Wednesday, December 29, 2010

I Needed To Post SOMETHING Before the New Year!


I am utterly ashamed of myself, but the holidays have proven happily overwhelming, so I have not paid the attention I should to this blog-thing. To make it up to all of my faithful readers, I herewith give you The Agonizing Death Of An Insect:

If only Bucky the Wonderdog knew how to do that...or perhaps operate a video camera...

Elisa and Bucky the Wonderdog

Friday, December 10, 2010

The Obligatory Twitter Post (Special Guest Star: Jesus)


In today's faster-than-fast world, emails have been replaced by Facebook messages have been replaced by Twitter. In which you have 140 characters to say your piece. Not 140 words, 140 characters.

There is actually a fine art to writing on Twitter, at least if it's something more interesting than "I made the most yummy beef stew!" One must craft even the most mundane of statements. Since my writing tends toward the, shall we say, ornate, this has been an onerous task. But challenges are my chocolate covered cherries! (In actuality, I despise chocolate covered cherries, but 'eclairs' doesn't have the same zip.)

So, in the spirit of what every else is doing these days, here is a selection of my tweets over the past two days!

Until they make tampons out of pure spun silk, menses and elegance do not mix.

So, Lindsay Lohan is fired from playing a porn star but is considered a good bet for "DWTS"? I'm not sure which job has less class.

The news that nude photos of Christina Aguilera have been I somehow supposed to care? Aren't there enough of them already?

Wondering if I should do a #FF list of people who can't stand me? You know who you are, but you're not following me so you won't see it.


(The following are the tale of my evening with Jesus, when my chef took the day off and I was forced to fend for myself. )

Good night, lovely Twitter-followers.At least the maid will make me coffee & bring me a croissant tomorrow morning.Pray for me. #chefsdayoff

With my chef taking the day off (the swine), I managed coffee, a croissant and peach preserves brought by the maid. #chefsdayoff

#chefsdayoff For lunch, delivery from Blue Hill. (Yes, if you pay enough) Chicken with Tuscan kale and homemade pasta. Tonight...?

#chefsdayoff BAD start to the evening. Jesus showed up, wanting a cheese sandwich. I told him to make us both BLTs if he wanted them

So Jesus has a hissy fit because he doesn't want a BLT, he wants grilled cheese made with Swiss cheese and I don't have any...

I tell Jesus to go to the store if he wants Swiss cheese so much, he says, "I don't have any POCKETS, you heathen!" Le sigh...

After sulking, he agreed to make grilled cheddar and tomato sandwiches. Jesus is a pretty decent diner-style cook. Unexpected.

The sandwiches were quite good. But Jesus had gotten into the cooking wine (he is NEVER getting the key to the wine cellar)...

So he's getting drunk on cooking sherry and starts arguing w me abt. my atheism. Jesus keeps yelling at God for a miracle,...

...but does God perform one? No, unless you consider Jesus chugging an entire bottle of cooking sherry w/o gagging a miracle.

Fortunately I had coffee ice cream in the freezer (Jesus LOVES coffee ice cream). Gave him a big dish and he gave me a...

...big goofy smile. There's something about Jesus drunk, especially when he's got the crown of thorns on--I must get a picture.

In any event, he's already dozing on the divan, and it's not even 8pm. At least if he expects breakfast my chef will be back!

Don't worry, I have never slept with Jesus, nor do I intend to.He's far too promiscuous. All those "Jesus loves me" songs, n'cest pas?

Good morning, lovely Twitter-followers! As predicted, Jesus was hungover & cranky this morning. Serves him right, chugging cooking sherry.

#AnnoyingJesus Thank God my chef is back, who served him coddled eggs and a Bloody Mary. Jesus has left my building. Thank goodness.

And there you have a selection of my tweets. Feel free to follow me on Twitter! I promise, Jesus rarely shows up. I really should contact my dear dead friend Lana Turner. It's been far too long.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, December 09, 2010

On Today's I Don't Care List...Duracell!


I was sent the photograph below by the lovely people at Duracell batteries, who had some "green" event called Pedaling the Power today. Among the illustrious participants (titles designated by them, not moi):

Carson Kressley, (Fashionista) Robert Verdi, (Fashionista) Tinsley Mortimer, (Fashionista) Charlotte Ronson (Designer) Joey Wolffer (Stylist/ The StyleLiner), Jussara Lee (Designer) Mazdack Rassi (Milk Studios), Jean Pigozzi (Owner, LimoLand store), Eric Goldstein (Owner, The Jean Shop) Charles Nolan (Designer)

The press release had a tremendous amount of blah blah blah about how wonderful Duracell is, how "green" the company is. You know the drill. Why this is supposed to be interesting is beyond me, but here it is. It will be one any number of blogs who will consider it "news."

Now that I've done my job, I deserve a cocktail.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Wednesday, December 08, 2010



Despite what I wrote yesterday, some events are simply TOO MARVELOUS not to be promoted!!

100s and 100s of items from Movie Set Wardrobe Departments

Christian Louboutin
Cynthia Rowley
Diane von Furstenburg
Jimmy Choo
Marc by Marc Jacobs
Michael Kors
Miu Miu
Ralph Lauren
Yves Saint Laurent
And many, many more
- All items in New or Like-New Condition
- 50% - 70% off retail
- $50 and up

Cash and All Major Credit Cards Accepted

December 9th and 10th
9:00AM to 7:00PM
December 11th
9:00 AM to 5:00 PM

60 Vestry Street (at Washington)
Ground Floor

See you there, my dears!!!

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Tuesday, December 07, 2010

Of Blogging, Kathy Griffin, and Bristol Palin


Occasionally I am distressed by my inability to write about the events of my fabulous life in timely fashion. The mad whirl I live in would leave a woman of stronger stuff exhausted--but then, there are no women made of stronger stuff.

However, I do suffer from that deadliest of diseases (besides cancer and oral herpes, of course): PROCRASTINATION.

How often do I tap an exquisitely manicured fingernail on my cheek, thinking, "My, that would make an excellent entry" or "Dear God in Heaven, that person deserves to be written about and PUNISHED!" or "That's pretty".

Then the doorbell rings and another celebrity comes for a style consult; or the maid forgets to put the cream in my coffee; or a package arrives with my bespoke kidskin black boots, hand-sewn by the finest child labor, and all thoughts go scattering away.

That, and my assistants are imbeciles. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop hiring assistants who cry easily. They keep making mistakes. But the cringing is so enjoyable.

Life would be easier if I did giveaways, partnerships, and PR. That would generate "content", which makes me think of air-popped popcorn. Maybe I should have a daily product plug, or a round-up of links, or my entrys could be a collection of my Twitter tweets.

Even that seems like too much work. Ever have one of those days when you don't feel like sharing your fabulosity? Or you've forgotten you've locked your assistant in the bathroom to punish her for crying on a Fortuny gowns? Those aren't Perma-pleats, damn it!

In closing, let me say that ordinarily I would say something critical about Kathy Griffin making fat jokes about Bristol Palin. But...but...she's BRISTOL PALIN.

Your faithful correspondent has to draw the line somewhere.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Saturday, December 04, 2010

Beauty From The Past: Real Women, Real Stars


I hope you had a delicious Thanksgiving!

A dear friend sent me a link to this. It is possibly one of the EARLIEST uses of color film extant. Shot in 1922, this is a test of Kodachrome film by Kodak.

It lets you see the natural beauty of the women, how they wore their clothes and hair, how they moved their bodies. If some of it seems self-conscious, that is natural, since they being told what to do and how to move by a person behind the camera. The blonde at the end is the 1920s star Mae Murray who had an extremely popular look among women: the bobbed hair and "bee-stung" lips (lips painted into small cupids bows).

Here is some information supplied by a faithful reader:

"In these newly preserved tests, made in 1922 at the Paragon Studios in Fort Lee, New Jersey, actress Mae Murray appears almost translucent, her flesh a pale white that is reminiscent of perfectly sculpted marble, enhanced with touches of color to her lips, eyes, and hair. She is joined by actress Hope Hampton modeling costumes from The Light in the Dark (1922), which contained the first commercial use of Two-Color Kodachrome in a feature film. Ziegfeld Follies actress Mary Eaton and an unidentified woman and child also appear."

The clothes are what the stylish young lady wore in 1922. Vintage lovers, take note! Watch and enjoy!

Along the same lines is this promotional film, also starring young actresses of the time.

And finally, from 1913 we have the reigning beauty of the 1890s, LILLIAN RUSSELL! She was past her prime, but ten years before she had been the reigning beauty of the day. Her voluptuous proportions were the ideal of the 1890s, later revived by Mae West.

Another benefit of watching old films is that you can see what earlier definitions of "beautiful bodies" were. For instance, look at Clark Gable shirtless, or the chorus girls in any Busby Berkeley musical. Speaking of the latter, a male escort and I were viewing "Golddiggers of 1933." When the camera zoomed in for a close-up of the legendary Ginger Rogers, he exclaimed, "she has brown teeth!" No, she had natural teeth. Something that has not existed in Hollywood for many years.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, November 25, 2010



I am writing from an undisclosed location in the Mediterranean, attending Thanksgiving with a number of fabulous and not-so-fabulous people. For which I am truly grateful, particularly because I am far better dressed than almost any of them.

While the various dishes (turkey, braised eel, loin of wildebeest, roasted boar--the boar was flown in and sacrificed during the cocktail hour--most entertaining) are being prepared, your faithful correspondent thought she would share a few celebrity tidbits. After all, most celebrities are sitting in high-end restaurants, while their publicists send out releases claiming "they are enjoying Thanksgiving with family and friends." As Lindsay Lohan call tell you, most celebrities have neither family nor friends.

Tidbit #1

Shakira Caine, Michael's wife, snorts when she laughs.

Tidbit #2

If you stand on a chair and look straight down at Elton John's head, his scalp is a most peculiar shade.

Tidbit #3

Real Housewives should not be invited to parties where hard liquor, or even food, is served. One well-known Housewife ate a hearty breakfast, then promptly threw it up in a lavishly tiled bathroom. Gold fixtures don't make it any less disgusting, particularly when you are the next person to use the facilities.

Tidbit #4

Ben Affleck is a flasher. But oh, what a flash.

Tidbit #5

Colin Farrell uses Just For Men. (Yes, I admit, I look in the bedroom wastebaskets. It's part of my job.)

Tidbit #6

Gwyneth Paltrow's favorite pre-bedtime ritual is a large glass of straight Jack Daniels and a single mini-eclair.

That's all for now. It's 7 pm here and I hear a martini calling my name.

Have a very happy Thanksgiving, my darling readers and Twitter-followers, and remember I love you all. As long as I don't have to touch you.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Tuesday, November 16, 2010

Season Seven of "House MD" - If I Were In Charge


So, here in America, Fox ran the latest episode, "A Pox On Our House." I won't go into the derivative plot lines (think "Euphoria" meets whatever episode the cat's death triggered the epiphany a few seasons ago), cardboard writing, and do not get me started on the new character Mary Sue Masters--oh, excuse me, Martha M. Masters. I might muss my coiffure.

Here's what I would do were I in charge of House:

I would drag David Shore, Katie Jacobs and John C. Kelley to a secluded place, tie them up, and say, "Write your way out of THAT, swines!"

However, first I would force them to release all of the gag reels, blooper reels, outtakes, and that very special footage of House and Wilson making out that was cut from S4 right before Wilson hooked up with Amber.

Also the very special footage of House and Wilson making out after Wilson gives House the organ.

Also the very special footage of House and Wilson making out because...well, just because.

Also the very special footage of House and Cuddy making out when they're in the car in "5 to 9".

Also the very special footage of House and Cuddy making out after the party in "Known Knowns".

Also the naked pictures of HL in his dressing room from the hidden security cameras.

Then I would present Hugh Laurie with a plane ticket back to England, so he can resume making good television.

And then I would tearfully wave good-bye to Robert Sean Leonard as he beats a hasty retreat to NY, yelling, "Free at last! Free at last!" (Actually it would be a joyful hello, since I live in New York City.)

And then I would give Omar Epps his own show. And Lisa Edelstein her own show. They would have to sign contracts not to do anything medical-related, but I still want them to keep working. P-Jac will find work soon enough.

And then I would strip Jesse Spencer naked and make him play Schumann on the violin as foreplay. (It would only have to be the one time.)

And then I'd bring back Cameron...oops. No more show.

Have I left anyone out? 13's already gone. As is Doris Egan.

Now it's your turn. Feel free to use the comments to say what you would do if you in charge of House this season. But remember, I am always right.


Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog

Friday, November 12, 2010

Jennifer Hudson May Be Thin, But...


I have avoided the topic of Jennifer Hudson as a spokesperson for Weight Watchers. Although I believe that we shall have Kirstie Alley 2.0 on our hands in a few years. (After all, didn't sports commentator Mike Golic shed pounds on Nutrisystem, gain it all back and is now shilling for another weight loss gambit? Twas ever thus.)

However, this photo of Ms. Hudson at LAX simply cried out for commentary:

Not only because of the madly unflattering combination of leggings and tight purple lace shirt, not only because of the camel toe, but also the fact that Ms. Hudson can be clearly seen wearing SPANX underneath all of that. Good God, woman, why bother losing all of the weight if you still feel obligated to wear constricting undergarments?

Your faithful correspondent is not recommending constricting undergarments, although she has been known to wear waist cinchers when in vintage dresses. But truly, what is the point of being held up as an example of slenderness if you still have to wear Spanx? Or feel that you have to wear Spanx? Isn't the point of the exercise to not wear Spanx?

Just an idle, slightly outraged thought, dahlings. Feel free to have your say in the comments section.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Tuesday, November 09, 2010

House MD: When Google Translate Attacks!


You simply cannot make this stuff up. I have no idea why the site was created, but it is hilarious. Here is part of an entry describing the show:

Refuge is a pick conduct to umteen in the humanity. It’s administrator producers Paul Attanasio, Katie Dr., King Come and Pol Instrumentalist who brought forth this new take-on to mysteries placing an blasphemous and disputable Physician Shelter against a examination malady. So that’s Dr. Doctor Asylum, an univocal ruiner, relentless change to his patients.

A stable corporeal symptom troubles Dr. Concern and seems to hold brought over him a savagely honorable behavior, made salient advance with a beat by his opinion. Lonely by attending and a unconventional by courage, Domiciliate is a story of his freakish thinking paired with flawless instincts. A doc to contagious diseases, Dr. Houses’ impressive diagnosing capabilities are challenged by scrutiny puzzles that he moldiness settle and forestall a few lives.

Are you an booster of the television direct ‘Business’? If you are, you faculty be knowing that the water attribute throws out jeering ripostes with gay wantonness.

Now that "House" has officially leapt over the large predatory fish, this was a welcome respite. It made me laugh. With gay wantoness, no less. Perhaps they should change the title to "Domiciliate,MD".

In the meantime, this photo was released, and all I could think of was that Hugh Laurie looks like a cast member from "The Walking Dead." At least one of them was enjoying themselves.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, November 04, 2010

Holiday Trunk Show Hosted By The Three Tomatoes!


From a humble online newsletter, The Three Tomatoes have built a small empire catering to "women who aren't kids." They are having a special event, which I urge you to attend. TTT manages to make all of their soirees tremendous fun!

Nov. 10 Holiday Trunk Show Event Honors New York City Designers

The Three Tomatoes will host a Holiday Trunk Show Event on Nov. 10, 2010
from 6 to 9 PM, at the Downtown Association, 60 Pine Street, NYC, honoring
New York City designers and artisans.

Among the designers who will be showcased are:
women's clothing designer, Gabrielle Carlson
jewelry designer Justin Guinta
NYC handbag designer Elaine Arsenault
And hat designer Rod Keenan

2010 Emmy Award Winning makeup Artist Vanessa Elese, will be demonstrating Alison Raffaele Cosmetics

The event will also support two non-profits, Unleashed which saves dogs and empowers girls and Eco Africa, a non-profit that will sell items at the event, made by women artisans in Zimbabwe.

The Three Tomatoes is a NYC insider's lifestyle guide and
e-newsletter for "women who aren't kids."

Tickets are $35 in advance and include wine, cheeses, chocolate and salmon
tastings and more. Goody bags (value over $200) are guaranteed for the first
100 people who purchase tickets.

For more info and to purchase tickets to the event visit:

Hurry over, dahlings! I guarantee you a wonderful time!

Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog

Tuesday, November 02, 2010

Get Out And VOTE, Dahlings! And Then Have Cake.


Today I did the unthinkable. I mingled with the huddled masses, the general public, the (ugh) common people. It is the sort of action which I avoid at all costs.

The reason I overcame my loathing? To VOTE, of course!

We cannot allow the maniacs and the Tea Partiers to gain even a significant foothold in our government. Just because they scream the loudest does not mean they have a right to override the progress of the last few years. As most of my dear readers know, I strive to stay apolitical on my blog-thing, but this is simply too important. It does not matter if you are a Democrat or a Republican, you owe it to the process of participatory democracy. (A dear friend taught me that phrase; it took me half an hour to pronounce it properly.)

So do not sit upon your derrieres and decide that this election is "not worth it" or "already settled" or that it is "too much trouble."

If I can force myself to vote, anyone can. So do your civic duty, put on your smartest outerwear, and get yourself to your nearest polling place. And then reward yourself with the pastry of your choice.

Because what is a democracy without cake?


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, October 28, 2010

Derek Lam Prostitutes Himself For Ebay


Ebay has been desperately searching for a way to salvage its diminished reputation. From being known as "America's flea market" to "America's junk dump" has taken years of hard work. To earn a reputation as bad as Ebay's is now, requires devotion.

Devotion to letting Chinese sellers rip off Ebay customers with fake designer merchandise. Devotion to shutting down the small sellers that made Ebay so popular when it began. Devotion to progressly stripping sellers of their rights, including the inability to realistically be rated by buyers, unable to leave feedback about bad buyers, unable to respond to unrealistic expectations by buyers. Unless it's Express Mail, no package can be counted on to be reliably delivered within two days of payment.

Devotion to further undermining the smaller sellers by running ads by large companies for similar merchandise on the same pages as the listings. By making the search engine virtually impossible to use. By giving preferential treatment to sellers who list in the thousands rather than the dozens.

Devotion to letting Paypal, its subsidiary, arbitrarily withhold the sellers' money under a series of rules that grow increasing more Byzantine by the year. Which included banning cash and money orders and setting up as competition payment systems that both cost more and were harder to use.

Despite a phony claim to being "just a venue," Ebay treated the sellers, its CUSTOMERS, as if they had no right to be there. Ebay started as a democracy and gradually became a dictatorship, first under the leadership of the vicious Meg Whitman, and later under the unconscionable rule of John Donahoe.

As an Ebay seller from 2002 until 2010, I am in a position to know all too well what I am writing about. A major problem is that no venue has been able to compete for Ebay's visibility in the larger marketplace. For years sellers have hoped that Google would set up a competing site. But that apparently is not in the cards.

And now, major designers are selling their collections on Ebay. This is a foul thing to do. Derek Lam is merely the latest designer to spread his legs for Ebay.

His collection will be "voted on" in the same way that American Idol votes on its contestants. Previous prostitutes for Ebay have been Norma Kamali and Narciso Rodriguez.

If you want to bring "affordable fashion" to Americans, sell your collections at Target, which has the honesty to call itself a commercial retailer.

Shame on you, Ebay, for helping to further destroy what was once a viable source of income for so many ordinary Americans. All the while baying that you believe that "people are essentially good."

People, perhaps, but certainly not your management.

Ebay is a disgrace to the values you pretend to promote, and you are a disgrace to America.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Thursday, October 21, 2010

Tomorrow: The Paul Lynde Halloween Spectacular!


Who doesn't love and miss the great Paul Lynde? Whether on Hollywood Squares or Bewitched or any number of television and movies, Lynde was always acerbic and delightful. To most of America he was in the closet. But really. That closet door was wide open. So I simply HAD to run this announcement for all residents of the tri-state area!

Tomorrow at the Pyramid Club:

1984 At The Pyramid Club!

We're ramping up to Halloween with our spooktacular annual screening of THE PAUL LYNDE HALLOWEEN SPECIAL --- with guest stars BETTY WHITE, Florence Henderson, Donny & Marie, and Kiss!

The special will run endlessly together throughout the night! Definitely the campiest and strangest holiday special ever made!

Upstairs, dance all night to your favorite 80’s tunes by Culture Club, George Michael, Cyndi Lauper, Prince, Madonna, Cher, Pet Shop Boys & the rest. Drink specials!

Friday, Nov. 22
1984 at Pyramid
101 Avenue A
21 & over with ID * $8 * * Doors open at 10 PM

For a synopsis of the special, you can visit

Be there or be hopelessly un-hip.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Customer Service In the Digital Age


Suffice to say that in the office we are having some problems with the printer. A request for support was sent, and apparently the wrong serial number was on it. The following email was sent:

We are unable to find the serial number you provided within our Service Database. Please check the machine for the 9 digit serial number and reply back. For the model indicated the serial number is located by (fill in location instructions) and it should begin with (fill in prefix). If you need more assistance finding your serial number please select the link below (insert link from KB on how to find serial number)

A request email was sent, and this was the response:

Original Message Follows: ------------------------

Could you fill in the blanks in the message and respond again?

Thank you.

In a message dated 10/19/2010 10:02:48 P.M. Eastern Daylight Time, writes:
Original Message Follows: ------------------------
We are unable to find the serial number you provided within our Service Database. Please check the machine for the 9 digit serial number and reply back. For the model indicated the serial number is located by (fill in location instructions) and it should begin with (fill in prefix). If you need more assistance finding your serial number please select the link below (insert link from KB on how to find serial number)

Do you think we should write support for support for their support?

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Monday, October 18, 2010

Anne Hathaway: Is It Live Or Is It Memorex?


Sorry for the dated title, but to be honest, nothing else came quite as close to the mark. In my inbox this afternoon was a promo for Anne Hathaway's cover for Vogue. I am always fascinated by how photo-retouchers are able to turn real women into strange wax replicas of themselves. (I am also fascinated how real women can turn themselves into strange wax replicas, pace Courteney Cox).

Herewith are the photos:

Naturally, my favorite cover line is the one about "Natural Beauty That Delivers." Vogue would not know natural beauty if they tripped over it on their way to the loo.

I mean, really. Of course every thin young actress since 1975 has had to pose as Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly. One thinks it's a clause in their contracts.

But that is not my point. Most of us are aware how heavily manipulated the images are that bombard us daily. However, did you know that a special CGI artist was employed on Sex And The City II to fill in the lack of flesh of Sarah Jessica Parker's bony hands? (My source is quite reliable.) Before the inevitable onslaught of comments accusing me of being negative about extreme thinness, I am writing this about ALL actresses and actors of all sizes and ages.

There are far too many stories of that nature. In this digital age, it is truly an outrage that virtually no public image is the image of what is actually there.


Elisa & Bucky The Wonderdog

Friday, October 08, 2010

Book Review: Chasing Zebras by Barbara Barnett


It is not often that I am asked to put on my bonnet as a reviewer of books, movies and television. However, this subject seems relevant to my interest/obsession with the television show House M.D.

Fans of House MD who feel that Season 6 represented an overall decline in quality in the series and that Season 7 may well be in the final nail in the coffin can find solace in Barbara Barnett’s Chasing Zebras: The Unofficial Guide To House, M.D. (ECW, 2010).

Barnett is the aficionado’s aficionado, a fan who writes entries for Blogcritics org., titled “Welcome To The End of The Thought Process.” This book, a labor of love, is, she admits, a “highly subjective” look at the popular series. Series creator David Shore, a former lawyer, first conceived a show built around “a lawyer who hates his clients.” He later changed it to “a doctor who hates his patients.” The character was originally based on Sherlock Holmes, with Watson as his faithful sidekick. Holmes/Watson became re-invented as House/Wilson. House is played by the splendid actor Hugh Laurie, and the underrated Robert Sean Leonard plays his one and only friend, Wilson.

Barnett views the central character, Gregory House, as a heroic character in the model of Lord Byron or Mr. Rochester. Indeed, an undertone of romanticism runs through this book. One gets the impression that the author, like many fans, is hopelessly in love with Dr. House. As Robert Sean Leonard observed early in the show’s life, “the character of Gregory House is designed to be attractive.” Based on the misanthropic, drug-addicted detective whose brilliance and lack of conventional social empathy isolates him, Gregory House is all this and more. Like Holmes, the thing that House dreads most is boredom.

The first section of Chasing Zebras, “Differential Diagnosis: A Character Wrapped in a Mystery Wrapped in a Medical Procedural” examines House through the prism of the show’s medicine, ethics, music, religion, House’s chronic pain and drug use, his isolating genius, even the character’s personal belongings. (Each of the supporting characters, including his boss, Cuddy) is given their own chapter.) In the search for meaning that runs throughout the book, Barnett has conducted interviews with producers, writers, crew, and actors, including executive producer Katie Jacobs, writers Doris Egan, Russell Friend and David Foster, and a wealth of others.

The second section, "The Guide,"are recaps of the episode of each season, built around a comprehensive rundown including the disease of the week (the “zebra” of the title), House’s famous “epiphany” moments, other basic aspects of the formula, and what your faithful correspondent enjoyed the most, casting trivia. If there is anything you want to know about individual episodes, it is certain to be here. Barnett also takes thorough looks at certain episodes that she feels are pivotal to the development of the series and the character of House.

There is an exceedingly entertaining appendix, “Time Is Not A Fixed Construct,” in which Barnett attempts to unravel the show’s (to put it politely) elastic timelines. The author explores the character’s development over six seasons and how it has affected the show overall.

Some fans feel that Seasons 1-3 are the “classic House.” Others have the opinion that all of the seasons are “classic House” with the occasional weak episode here and there. Some viewers feel that with House detoxing off Vicodin in Season 6 and trying to become a better person, he lost the spark of individuality that made him such a fascinating character. In Season 7, he seems largely devoid of the torment that defined him, reducing House to the level of many snarky, smart television heroes that have proliferated in the wake of House M.D. Others feel that this is genuine character development and layers of his soul have yet to be exposed.

In this reviewer’s highly subjective opinion, this book needed a more rigorous editor and proofreader. And an index. Chasing Zebras could easily be cut by a third without sacrificing its essential purpose.

The author is in love with her own use of language, such as a tendency to follow the character’s mot juste with “Well played, Dr. House!” Barnett’s writing can slip into florid overstatement and redundancy. Much of her initial section on House repeatedly brings up the Byronic hero aspect, even if it is a stretch at times. She quotes lines from the 2008 film The Dark Knight in which Alfred says to Bruce Wayne: “You’re the one who can be the outcast and do the things that no one else can…A watchful protector, a dark knight.” Or in her own words: “[House] is a many-faceted crystal, and depending on the part of the prism through which you happen to observe him, he can be angel or devil, noble or an unrepentant bastard. The true colors you see may vary greatly.”

Barnett has a healthy ego: in the introduction she briefly mentions the sometimes rabid House online fan community, recommending her own blog for “in-depth analysis” without mentioning that she is the writer. And without naming the many other sites that discuss the show in great detail, save for the official HOUSE/Fox website. In the acknowledgements she thanks her loyal readers who have made “Welcome To The End of The Thought Process” “one of the best places on the Internet to discuss the series.”

Despite these flaws, this is an excellent addition to the collection of the dyed-in-the-wool House M.D. fan. Where else are you going to find the hidden similarities between House and Chick Webb? Or that sets of ancient calipers decorate his apartment walls? Or that Ethan Embry (“The Down Low”, Season 6) worked with Kal Penn (Kutner) in one of the Harold and Kumar movies?

For the casual viewer, this book might be a bit much. But it is not written for the casual viewer. It is written for those who are deeply invested in the program and its characters, like Ms. Barnett herself.

Chasing Zebras: An Unofficial Guide to House M.D can be purchased at and other outlets.

PLEASE NOTE: The House fandom is a large and vocal one. However, I will not publish comments that amount to hate mail, as is my usual policy. Also please not that I am not responsible for the "cool" "interesting" and whatever tags at the bottom; apparently they are part of the Blogger format.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Fashion Week, Day Four - Timely, Huh??

Hello, this is Mademoiselle’s assistant. I know, the worst job in the world, right? It beats selling men's perfume at Macy's. And I get to meet famous people. "Meet" in the sense that she's always ordering me around in front of them like I'm some retarded geisha boy.

She’s gone away for a few days, and she left me the job of writing up the rest of Fashion Week! I mean, she COULD have moved her lazy ass and written herself, but no, it’s always me who has to clean up after her. At least I don't have to listen to her screechy voice and watch her count the petty cash every day.

(Don’t tell her I said any of that.)

SO, Fashion Week Day Four, after, what, three weeks? Talk about timely topical subject matter. Girlfriend, you’ve got some serious issues with this blog.

Here are her notes on Day Four:

In February, Greek designer Vassilios Kostetsos told me that he would never allow plus-sized women to wear his clothes. Fortunately, Karma came to the rescue and produced a truly dismal collection. You know something is wrong when the best part of the show is the naked buff man wearing Speedos with a Grecian vase on each butt-cheek.

Many of the clothes had what looked like cheap foil print on them, the sort you find on shirts made by street vendors.

Small audience—standing room had to be put in the seats

Sat next to drunken journalist who pronounced collection ugly. Said more but too drunk to be understandable.

Fashion Week crowds make the running of the bulls look civilized.
And that's all she wrote--for now.

Friday, September 24, 2010

And Now, A Brief Relief From Good Taste (NSFW)


I came across this masterwork by some young people called the Day Job Orchestra, and they made the Emmys and Robert Verdi ever so much more entertaining.

Now, I haven't lost my mind, but it's hot and I don't feel like writing a proper entry. It is rare something this vulgar makes my laugh, but really, a woman has to have a break from unending gentility.

I'm going upstairs now for a cold bath.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Exclusive Statement From TWO Cast Members of House MD


This morning in my inbox was a request to publish the following statement, from two of the cast members of House,MD.

This is a cast member who has visited this blog-thing before, along with a close friend. I felt that it would be noblesse oblige to allow them to have their say. Particularly in light of the heated debate over the season 7 opener, "Now What?"

Again, let me step aside and use the blog-thing for altruistic purposes. (Faithful readers, be assured that this statement does not reflect the opinions of the blog owner or My apologies for the language used in this statement. Your faithful correspondent abhors profanity, but censorship is not practiced in this blog-thing. Unless it's negative comments calling me a "fuck-tard." )

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog


I’m not a doctor, but I play one on TV. Part of one. We might have met before. I’m House’s damaged, always-in-agonizing-pain-until-the-script-monkeys-decided-I-wasn’t-last season LEG.


House’s stupid bitch of a girlfriend Stacy (who has been conveniently forgotten in the Great Love Story That Is House and Cuddy) decided that cutting off a chunk of me was a good choice. FUCK YOU, STACY! AND FUCK YOU, CUDDY! HOW THE EVERLOVING HELL HAS HOUSE FORGIVEN YOU ENOUGH TO LET YOU KISS MY SCAR AND NOT KICK YOU INTO THE MIDDLE OF NEXT WEEK? OH WAIT, HE CAN’T, BECAUSE YOU DECIDED THAT A GIANT HUNK OF—

Excuse me. At the end of last season, you might recall, me and the rest of House’s 50-year-old body were dragged around a crushed building, which was bad enough! Then he goes home without a cane, and believe me, I am in PAIN. Screaming, agonizing PAIN! House finds his stash of Vicodin, and I’m like, “FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, MAN, TAKE THE PILLS OR KILL ME, OKAY?”

And just as he’s about to take the pills and give me the sweet relief I crave, Cuddy shows up, and her magical boner love makes him throw away the pills! And takes away his pain. But it HASN’T! I’m screaming at him, “YOU KNOW PAIN BETTER THAN ANYBODY! JESUS CHRIST LAYING FLOOR TILES! WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?”

Last night, on a "Very Special Episode of House", he PICKS HER UP and carries her into the bedroom. I know Cuddy only weighs 80 pounds, but WTF? I wanted to scream my head off but I was ordered, do what you’re told and you’re getting amputated—they can write that in now. Bastards.

And House’s whole goddamn BODY is nagging at me: “Everything hurts! We’re 50 years old and we’ve been dragged through a damaged building! Ow ow ow make him take the pills, leg! You’ve always made him do it in the past! Please!” And I have to respond “Sorry, guys, I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO EXIST ANYMORE!”

They want me to TAKE MYSELF OFF AND BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF HOUSE! How am I supposed to do that????

House and Cuddy make mad, passionate love, and it hurts so much, oh man, it hurts, he keeps using my damaged muscles to roll around. And then he KNEELS ON THE FLOOR, and spends the whole rest of the day WITHOUT HIS CANE and goddamn, I’m out of my mind—if I had a mind, I mean, I’m only a leg—and they play Boggle and they keep having sex, if I had a head I’d beg God to skullfuck me to death.

You won’t be seeing much of me in Season 7, those assholes have decided I’m not important any more, until House and Cuddy break up, and watch for “psychosomatic” pain to return. BUT IT NEVER LEFT, DICKWADS!

Anyway. I promised this other body part he could have his say. So I’m going to shut up now. How I do that without lips, I don’t know. So here he is (He gets to have a gender, unlike me. Fuck me. Limb just can't get a break.):

Hello. I’m House’s dick. Pleased to meet you. Yes, I know, the leg keeps complaining about how much pain it’s in. What a toilet mouth. I may be a penis, but I like to think I’m more refined.

Here’s some dirty little secrets you’ve never been told—no, it’s not that I’m not large, I’m huge. But, let’s face it, House has been taking Vicodin for over a decade, and that pretty much trashes your libido. So I’ve been a little…slow on the uptake. Those hookers have had to work damn hard (pardon the pun). Plus, the dude is 50 years old. I’m supposed to slow down anyway, so the combo hasn’t been great for me.

The sections on Season Six where you thought he was watching porn and masturbating?
Uh-uh. He was watching reruns of “Clean House” on the Style Channel. He really digs Trish. The porn was just for appearances. It takes House so long to get off that he's practically got carpal tunnel syndrome.

Ooooh…Trish Suhr…she is one hot little babe…oh, boy, I wish I could get hard…the testicles have been really frustrated. They keep sending me notes, but what am I supposed to do? I’m just a penis. (And I’m not far away from that right leg; do you know what it’s like to live near someone who never stops bitching?)

Last night, they showed you House furtively calling his team in between bouts of making sweet, sweet love with Cuddy. She’s hot, I don’t care what the leg says.

What they didn’t show you was House taking Viagra like, every half hour. The man’s an addict, you think he’d only take one? Cuddy had to spend major time-age sucking me to get me to respond, because the rest of the body HURT SO MUCH, especially the back muscles and that damn right leg. I had to get the job done, you know? Fucking somebody’s brains out is damn near impossible under the circumstances I was in (pardon the pun).

A 50-year-old guy who hurts everywhere, who was emotionally devastated the night before, who has a LOT of hidden rage against Cuddy for not only the leg but also for gutting him like a fish the night before? I had to labor mightily to surmount (pardon the pun) all of that and do my fucking job. That’s not swearing, that is literally my job. Fucking.

I should belong to the Teamsters union, that’s how much heavy lifting I have to do. But I had to strap on a pair—oh, wait, I already have a pair.

Screw the warning labels, I wish I could get an erection that lasts over four hours. It would make my life so much easier.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Bottom Feeders Of New York Fashion Week Spring 2011


I am aware that I have been somewhat derelict in posting day to day reports about New York Fashion Week. So here are some of the rather, er, strange people one sees every day. Most of vanish into the darkness until the next Fashion Week rolls around.
Number One:

Painted Suit Man

A perennial habitue' of the central tent, this silent, eerily affectless gentleman shows up every day in a different hand-painted suit and matching hat. He never goes to the shows. But he is willing to stand for up to 10 hours, waiting to be photographed. The strategy rarely works. Note that with this newest suit, he is also rocking a pair of tight gold lame leggings. Dear God.

Number Two:

Milk Carton Man

This gentleman, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Seth Rogen, is the acknowledged master of getting into the front row. Even though he is supposed to up in the back in standing row. He tends to be dirty and disheveled. Often he is moved from the front row when a actual celebrity or Fern Mallis shows up. But in a few moments he pops up elsewhere. Nobody knows who he is. My image of this men is his photo on a milk carton, asking, "Have You Seen Me?" If anyone knows who he is, please tell me in the comments section.

Number Three:

Quiet Good Taste

You have to admire this woman. Her look is distinctive. The huge white bouffant can be easily spotted. Both she and her assistant wear outfits that defy description. Well, one descriptive would be "Huh?" Apparently she has a public access show based in Long Island. Which explains a great deal.

In the interest of fairness, this is what I wore today: a dress designed especially pour moi by SKWilbur, made of denim with satin detailing on one side front and back; and a hat from 1939, made of velvet with a large satin bow in the back.

More reportage on the morrow.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

My BFF Tim Gunn! New York Fashion Week, Day Three


Nothing, not even the forces of New York Fashion Week, can keep Tim Gunn and moi apart. On Saturday afternoon, I stepped out for a bit of fresh air (one of the definite advantages of the new Lincoln Center location--you can find fresh air!).

If only to stand out from the SEA of black and gray, I wore a strapless 70s dress with design saying "Fashion" in gray, black, and red in a fluid print, along with a ruffled shrug and a divine 80s does 40s Empress Eugenie (look it up) red hat with a black veil.

When Tim Gunn came striding through the crowd, he was mobbed, of course. One of definite disadvantages of the new Lincoln Center location is that one can get mobbed by a tremendous crowd, despite the police presence everywhere.

That did not stop my BFF from stopping to exchange a few words and to have our picture taken together. (Note: I am still waiting for one of the the photographers to upload it to his DAMN website. Je me prosterne devant vous, mes lecteurs, dans des excuses!)

Back to the fashion. The Vivienne Tam show, well, it was very nice. The generational problem is easily apparent. I am a classicist who believes that the 1970s were the nadir of fashion. Unfortunately or fortunately, the 20-something set did not have to live through it, so they think it is all impossibly thrilling. Les imbéciles mal informés peu. But perhaps I am being ever so slightly harsh.

From my front row seat, when the first few "lace" dresses came out, all I could think was, macrame. The heavy cotton yarn that women made belts and hanging plant holders out of. Even dyed white and called crochet, it was still...macrame.

And were would the 1970s be without maxi-dresses?
I am sure I haven't the faintest notion, because the damn things were everywhere.

However, the rest of the collection was pretty, well made, and the 1970s lived again. Forgive me if I was not excited. The 1970s were bad enough the first time.

Later, when I am less exhausted, I will write more about my adventures under the tents. Because I have had adventures.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Almost Killed Tadashi Shoji, Fashion Week, Day Two


Your faithful correspondent almost inadvertently killed designer Tadashi Shoji at his Fashion Week presentation on Friday morning.

In my defense, may I point out that my recent illness has required me to use a cane or walking stick. (Do you know how HARD it is to find a decent looking cane??). And I was wearing black stilleto heels, the better to complement my black 1950s wiggle dress covered with velvet flowers and my matching black 1950s veiled platter hat. Walking in very high heels when you have to use a cane is NOT recommended.

So, I stepped up and entered a pitch-dark room, crammed with the usual rude masses, and the press. On one side, the models stood among wooden hand-made trees. This was supposed to be some sort of garden motif. One only wished the dresses had not been same color as the decor. I mean, there's qui and feng shui and all, but really, would making something bright red kill the man? Oh, I forgot, I almost did.

Photo: Ms. Fabulous

The dresses on the far left, which unfortunately you cannot see in these photos by blogger Ms. Fabulous, had those circular petals all over them which you can see on handbags at every street seller's corner in New York City. Who knew Mr. Shoji would use them as an inspiration?

Photo by Ms. Fabulous

IN ANY EVENT, the dresses are lovely, shimmery, the usual. Very red carpet, you know the kind of thing. So I determined to make a quick exit. Not easy when you are impeded by both a huge crowd and a cane. As a result, I found myself not only bumping into people, but crashing into people. I stumbled, and smashed into two small Asian gentleman! (Since even without heels I am almost six feet tall, you can imagine.) One of them turned--

And you know where this is going. It was Tadashi Shoji. With a stunned look on his face.

"Oh I'm so sorry Mr. Shoji the dresses are beautiful it's a lovely presentation is that a security guard must dash congratulations ciao!"

And back in the corridor was I, only slightly flustered and grateful that there would NOT be a headline on the nightly news: "DIMINUTIVE DESIGNER CRUSHED TO DEATH BY BLOGGER".

I had meant to get to the Guli show, but it takes quite a while to look truly fabulous. And it started at 9 AM! So, I went straight to my ill-fated visit to Tadashi Shoji's presentation to the BCBGMaxAzria runway show.

Do you recall the dress on a recent Project Runway that Ivy created? That was called "shapeless," "dull," "not resort at all"?

Photo courtesy of

I don't think Mr. Azria was watching that night.

What else can one say? Gaunt models speedwalking down the runway in silk dresses of various shapes and sizes and all I could think about was Ivy. Which is NOT a good thing to think, believe me.

This was my favorite. It was darker under the lights, and the fabric had very feminine movement. As it happened, I was sitting next to Mr. Azria's financier, quite a handsome man, so I made appreciative sounds in a voice an octave higher than my own. We're seeing each other after he returns from Morocco.

By far my favorite show of the day was Ports 1961. Fiona Cibani's sister Tia has left the company. You would never know it by all of the wonderful, youthful designs. Ports 1961 always has something fresh to show, and they did not disappoint. The theme was "urban Sahara" , and although by then I had seen enough neutrals to last me the rest of my life, there was a parade of GORGEOUS liquid dresses that had me lusting to own a copy of each one.

That was a perfect show to end my day on. Being extrêmement fatigué, I opted out of attending Betsey Johnson's party in favor of a cold cocktail and a warm bed.


Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog
Photos courtesy of Getty Images

Friday, September 10, 2010

New York Fashion Week Spring 2011, Day One


So, yesterday was the first day of Mercedes Benz Fashion Week* in its new location at Lincoln Center. In the service of the God of Retail, most of the trees in Damrosch Park were chopped down, lest someone important in peeptoe platform boots trip over a root or something.

In any event, the main impression the central gives is HEIGHT. There is no central organizing entity, such as the Bryant Park fountain. So the room sprawls quite a bit. But it's a comfortable, well-lit sprawl. Your faithful correspondent was suitably impressed.

AND THEY HAVE FINALLY ENTERED THE COMPUTER AGE! NO MORE AGONIZING WAITS WHILE SOME POOR INTERN THUMBS THROUGH PAPER SHEETS TO FIND YOUR NAME! Some may think that barcodes render the event less human. Dahlings, it cuts down the amount of time and pretentiousness ("Don't you know who I am? I'm on the list!") by at least half.

The first day, I was more interested in exploring than in attending the shows. However, the Christian Siriano show was a MADHOUSE! I couldn't even locate my BFF, Tim Gunn! Some of it must have been spillover from the Project Runway show earlier.

The Project Runway show, for the record, showed TEN designers! That means TEN runway shows, and ONE HUNDRED LOOKS! I think I would have crawled out on my Max Azria clad knees, babbling incoherently.

In any event, after the spectacular show Christian put on last year, this one was a slight disappointment. From a young new designer, one hopes for a new young point of view. But this collection was rather safe, playing to well-worn fashion tropes and sillouhettes.

For instance, this lovely evening gown bears an eerie resemblance to the evening gowns he has done before, both on the runway and the red carpet.

This white dress is pretty, but a tad ho-hum.

However, I did rather like this suit. But if you look past the material, the construction is quite conventional.

It is this writer's guess that the reason Christian's clothes are so popular is that they are so wearable. For this collection, what it lacked in inspiration it more than made up for in "hanger appeal."

Speaking of Project Runway:


Why not that annoying, bossy little Ivy?

And I cannot remember who won; only that it wasn't Andy or Valerie, who should have.

Until tomorrow,

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

* If they hear you calling it New York Fashion Week, you are severely punished.

Photos courtesy of Getty Images

Tuesday, September 07, 2010

Fashion's Night Out! Watch It HERE Tonight!


The good folk at Conde' Nast were good enough to send me this press release. AND you can watch part of Fashion's Night Out right here on my blog!

CBS Live Stream of FNO: The Show’s Live Webcast of Fashion’s Night Out: The Show, hosted by Andre Leon Talley (my former BFF) and Hanneli Mustaparta, is embedded on this site, so all of my wonderful readers can watch it right here! The player will go live tonight (Tuesday, Sept 7th) at 5pm ET/ 2pm PT. From 5-7pm teaser clips from CBS Special on Fashion’s Night Out will run. Show begins at 7pm. Please see below for the embed code.

If you are Tweeting about the show tonight (and FNO in general!), they would love it if you would please use the official hashtag – #FNO. Their ID is @FNONYC if you would like to follow us – they shall be live Tweeting from the show and on the 10th.

LIVE WEBCAST (one hopes)

name='allowFullScreen' value='true'> src='' quality='high' name='cbsPlayer' allowScriptAccess='always' menu='true' allowfullscreen='true' flashvars='pid=NiuYP85wdKV79cozJRb_61qb8B7V_tjg&partner=cbs&autoPlayVid=true&config=' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' pluginspage='' height='360' width='640'>

That's all for now. I am frantically trying to get ready for Mercedes Benz Fashion Week and all of its ancillary events.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog

Saturday, September 04, 2010

The Emmy's Worst Dressed!


Due to a recurring illness, it has taken me a few days (cough) to get to this entry. However, how could I keep my beloved readers from missing this, no matter how great the sacrifice??

As in the Best Dressed, the Worst Dressed had an embarrassment of riches. And I do mean embarrassment.


Lauren Bosworth apparently thought her invitation read "Daughters of the American Revolution Afternoon Tea--no Democrats, please."

Stephanie Pratt gave new meaning to "she looked like she just rolled out of bed." When she awoke, the limo had been parked outside for more than an hour. Oh, well, everything looks dressy with heels, even a cheap Fredericks of Hollywood nightie! Doesn't it? Doesn't it? And thank you so much for the abundance of crotch shots!

Apparently Heidi Klum thought she was showing up for a taping of the runway segment of Project Runway. What else explains this dress? As she likes it on the show, too short, too tight, too shiny. Or is that what she doesn't like? So confusing!


This category is for the dresses that leave one's guests looking at each other in bewilderment. Yes, Alexander McQueen is dead and we should all be respectful of his memory...but Anna Paquin's gown looks like she is starring in a bad fantasy film as "Rodarah, Queen of the Unalasians."

There is so much wrong with Saturday Night Live's Kristin Wiig's dress one hardly knows where to start. The shoulder pom-poms? The cheap-looking print fabric? The sloppy, floppy black belt?

I am usually a champion of the unusual, but Lauren Graham's gown is definitely a head-scratcher. Is the white bib to protect her dress from stray tomato sauce when the waiters are serving the pre-show cocktail nibbles? Is she afraid Lindsay Lohan is going to vomit on her? Or does she actually think it looks good? Your faithful correspondent is at a loss. There have been no photographs of the back that one can find, but perhaps that is a blessing in disguise.

And I am almost always a champion of larger lovelies, but KayCee Stroh's gown...what look is she going for, precisely? Goth 60s hippie? Two unmatching gowns worn at once? And that pattern--I'M BLIND! I'M BLIND!

Remember when Jewel was a waify litle folk singer? Neither do I. In keeping with her recent glamorous image makeover ("I'm still relevant!), she is sporting a Carolina Herrera pink wedding cake dress. This photo does not show how perilously close the dress was to sliding off her body, which made for more entertainment than the actual show.

Why on earth did Glenn Close think this ill fitting green paper bag would be a good red carpet choice? Is it because the huge baggy hem is supposed to complement her broad shoulders?


This might be called a "catch-all" category, for all of those gowns that don't fit easily into slots. First we have the Look At Me Dammit! awards.

This award is handily won by Eva La Rue. Even her name sounds like a burlesque dancer. Here, she manages to make virginal white look like ít's been around the block a few too many times.

Speaking of white vulgarity, I know that this Kardashian (I can never tell them apart) made quite a few Best Dressed Lists, but this looked trashy, as did she.

What can one say? This Narciso Rodriguez dress would be a complete snore if it weren't for the cheesy mesh insert at the waist, worn by Julia Louis-Dreyfus. The actress looks as if she divides her time between the gym and the plastic surgeon.

Now we have the general Oh, Dear category.

(I have no clue as to who this poor woman is. But the photo speaks for itself.)

Poor Toni Collette. On her way to the red carpet, her gown trailed through the mud. Perhaps that explains her displeased facial expression.

Cheryl Hines's dress reminds one of a tree that's been "toilet-papered" at Halloween. Not that your faithful correspondent would ever participate in something so common.

Elizabeth Moss's gown, like Anna Paquin's and Kristin Wiig's gowns, has a bad case of "shoulder strangeness." In this case, a large wad of fabric adorns a bunched up, badly-draped dress. The dull color doesn't do her delicate complexion any favors, either.

To finish, Keri Russell's Pepto-Bismol pink dress wasn't exactly a "pop of color" on the runway, rather a splashed bucket. The top was far too large; every time Ms. Russell moved, the breeze threatened to expose one of her pretty little breasts. Because a dress is vintage, that does not necessarily mean it is a good fit.

So, those are my choices. Please feel free to respond in the comments. But remember, I am always right.

Elisa & Bucky the Wonderdog