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Name: Phymean Noun
Hails from: Phnom Penh, Cambodia
Known for: Seeing a disgraceful situation and doing something to make it better. When Noun realized how many children were scavenging through her city’s trash dumps just to survive, she quit her job and started the People Improvement Organization to provide the area’s underprivileged kids with a free education–fronting $30k her own money to build the first school.
The humble Noun was honored at last week’s CNN Heroes Awards, and even though we were momentarily distracted by her presenter Lucy Liu’s bad teleprompter reading and ill-fitting dress, our icy hearts warmed to flooding tears from the inspirasian of her story. If only we could all give so much!
Find out more about the PIO here.
What’s up? I know you’ve been getting some correspondence from my friend Jen, and that she declared a semi-official moratorium on “Lucy digs” on DISGRASIAN because we admittedly like you a lot.
But I’ve gotta know… what is it with people like you that make it impossible to honor such moratoriums? It’s like that song by Air, “You Make It Easy”–much too easy, what with the godawful movie choices (Lesbian vampires, why??) and the even worse, incessant sartorial mistakes.
Let’s talk about this. I need you to tell me how I can look at you at the Japanese Kung Fu Panda premiere in the silky representation of Mrs. Claus’s snowy-white, flappy, old-lady labia and not write to you in inquiry. Why would you wear such a thing, WHY? Why would you belt this disastrous frock with one of Dita Von Teese’s throwaways? Why would you possibly choose the one hemline and shoe combo that could make you–such a tiny lass–look like you’re storing extra flesh on their hips for the winter? You aren’t going on some survival mission in Siberia, are you? See? Now I’ve got questions upon questions. This is what you DO to me!
At least we care, right? Now go change yer clothes, and then make a good movie.
Filed under: Don't Get Me Started on Kung Fu Panda, L is for Labia, Letters of Concern, Lucy Liu, Misguided Sartorial Fantasies, Mrs. Claus, Ugly Dresses, We Can't Stop Hating Cuz You Won't Stop Sucking
I don’t really care one way or the other when it comes to the Olsen Twins. Wait–I actually don’t think you’re actually supposed to call them “the Olsen Twins” anymore; they prefer you call them “Mary-Kate Olsen and Ashley Olsen,” or “The Olsens,” but aren’t they in fact twins? It all sounds like a waste of brain space to me.
All I know is that Jen dressed up as MK a few years ago for Halloween, and this other girl Zooey did the same the following year, and they both looked wan and swathed in fabric and faaaaaaaaaaaabulous. Playing a billionaire skinny midge with both a caffeine and Balenciaga problem is FUN. Which is why when Jen put on an enormous, draping, sweater robe in our Boston hotel the other night (during the Harvard stop of this week’s DISGRASIAN tour), I delighted in her resemblance to the Troubled Olsen.
Can’t picture it? She looked almost exactly like this:
Cotton Candy Distraction
I realized today, while my eyes danced, semi-embarrassed, over the above image of Lucy Liu (in Valentino at the designer’s Paris show), that as long as she is working the starring-in-a-Sex-and-the-City-knockoff-means-I-am-a-fashion-icon angle, I can’t talk about her. There is simply nothing nice to say, besides stating she is beautifulzzZZZzz but always manages to look sillyZzZZzz, and some horses need just be left dead but not beaten.
What’s to say? She’s not this…
Cotton Candy Perfection
…and I guess she never will be.
Dearest Lucy Liu,
I’m pretty sure that Patricia Field is just fucking with you. I know you are the focal point of the new, very fash-ant-garde TV show Cashmere Mafia now, which means that you have to assume fashism icon status and gallivant around town wearing wild (ugly) shit and telling reporters in knowledgeable tones: “Oh god, I love young and independent designers. Zac Poseur really just knows a woman’s body.”
But here’s the lowdown, and this is hard for me because I truly think you’re lovely and talented (you are so pretty, so pretty. My dog and her dad rode in an elevator with you two months ago and raved about your skin. This is true!): I really, truly-ooly don’t believe Mafia is going to take off. This show will be a bigger bomb than your lesbian vampire movie. I do think Field has lost her touch–and if she does in fact still have a touch, she’s fingering New Line’s Sex and the City movie, not your little “tv show.”
I’m sorry. Saying such things is hard for me. But to be frank, I really just don’t want you toting ugly gold bags while wearing black opera gloves anymore. You don’t deserve it and we will both regret it. I already do.
hugs and kisses,
PARIS’ SELF: They can see your ass.
PARIS (TO SELF): Who can?
PARIS’ SELF: Everyone. We’re in China. Billions of people can see your ass.
PARIS (TO SELF): Even though I’m wearing tights?
PARIS’ SELF: Yes.
PARIS (TO SELF): Oh, good. That’s hot.
PARIS’ SELF: Actually, I don’t think a qipao should ever be worn in such a way that the world can see your ass.
PARIS (TO SELF): Why not? It’s hot.
PARIS’ SELF: Let me correct that statement. No talentless white girl with a butter face and a flaccid ass should perform racial drag, just because she happens to be in Shanghai, by wearing a minidress that sort of resembles a qipao and rides up high to show her disgusting, drippy-looking rump.
PARIS (TO SELF): Oooomigod. You totally just said about 10 words I didn’t understand. What have you been doing with yourself, self?
PARIS’ SELF: Y’know, this and that.
PARIS (TO SELF): This and that? When you went out the other day you said you were going to go look at little dogs and shoes for me.
PARIS’ SELF: Well.
PARIS (TO SELF): Come closer. You smell like Chanel! Have you been hanging out with those DISGRASIAN girls again?
PARIS’ SELF: Um.
PARIS (TO SELF): You are! You know I don’t like them. They point out my body flaws. They’ve called me a cultural low.
PARIS’ SELF: They’ve seen your ass up close in a bikini and maintain that it’s falling faster than the stock market in 1929.
PARIS (TO SELF): The what in the what?
PARIS’ SELF: My god, you’re meaningless.
PARIS (TO SELF): I’m what?
PARIS’ SELF: This is a little too existential for you.
PARIS (TO SELF): This is too what and the who?
PARIS’ SELF: Burn this dress.
On days like this…
…when Bai is making a relatively normal face, has her 45-year old body looking bangin’, lets her hair stay neatly placed, and only allows an astronomically hideous dress ruin the frame–should I be grateful?
I mean, yeah.
Insanity Barometer… plateaued!
You are fierce, and that is undeniable. You are loud and proud, large and in charge, gay and—well, super gay. I love it! I love it!!!
So it is with heavy heart, my fabulous friend, that I must condemn this atrocious silk dragon muumuu. I don’t care that it has pockets and that I love pockets. I don’t care that you’re daring and outrageous and fashion forward and you don’t give a shiite. You look like a giant chaise lounge in my parents’ sitting room, covered with plastic and too uncomfortable to sit on –except without the boxy seat cushion and intricate wood detailing. So what’s the point??
I would prefer to see you in only underpants. I just disgusted myself, but it’s true.
Talk to you soon!
P.S. So sick of Jennifer Hudson. Seriously, so sick of her.
Have you seen that box of moon cakes my Mom gave me for New Year? It was wrapped in pink and red cellophane and decorated with about thirty cardboard cutouts of dragons and little Asian children and things.
Oh I’m so hungry.
By the way, isn’t Eva Green a hot mess?
Remember when Gwen Stefani used to wear all that Dior? Things haven’t gotten better.
ISAIAH WASHINGTON: Here; I’ll lean at you more with my stomach.
SANDRA OH: Oh god, no. Why do you always have to pose next to me? Why can’t you go over there next to Jack Skellington?
ISAIAH WASHINGTON: Stop calling Ellen that. Sandra, our characters are married on the show. So I have to stand next you.
SANDRA OH: Our show is TIRED. Our internship is OVER. I’m done screwing the attending.
ISAIAH WASHINGTON: Do you know who you’re talking to? I’m Seattle’s leading Cardiac Surgeon!!!
SANDRA OH: Er, you’re an actor. You play a doctor on TV.
ISAIAH WASHINGTON: I have perfect skin and and exquisitely chiseled features!
SANDRA OH: You used to call the show Gay’s Anatomy.
ISAIAH WASHINGTON: You look fat in that dress.
SANDRA OH: .