Chinese Work Ethic Sunny Fong

Men's fashion carnage etcetera in all its naked glory…

Tag: rihanna

Met Life

God, I’ve been so out of it. My house is covered in a layer of sawdust, plaster and drywall dust. My clothes smell like grout. I have been eating microwaved food for almost a month. Naturally, I’m going to post about the 2011 Met Gala in New York. I used to dream about attending this but now it’s just a pile of celebrity bullshit. No style, no glamour… Just a bunch of twigs in sequined rags picked by their stylists.


Strange that they would allow the Met’s custodial staff to walk on the red carpet.


Although I think it’s great to see Asians representing, she is wearing the feather duster my mom used to beat me with when I got an A-.


I feel like she looks like one of those kitchen sink sponge holders that are shaped like frogs.


Has Claire Danes become the new Rita Wilson?


I just fell asleep looking at this photo. How are people this beautiful so fucking boring?


Do you think she’s hiding a pot of her stew in that dress?


Wow, Precious is looking pretty good.


I know I made fun of my girl at the Oscars but I’ll have to say that she looks pretty fucking cool. The star-spangled Stella McCartney number not only flatters her figure but brings back that old Hollywood glamour. I really have nothing negative thing to say about it but I’m also a huge faggot for M.


Fuck, after all these years, Linda Blair is still riding that Exorcist coattail.


I like that Salma actually wore McQueen to the McQueen tribute. I would typically have a racist Hispanic joke or some offensive comment about her smelling like a burnt gordita but after her being AMAZING on 30 Rock, I have come to love Salma Hayek. She makes me cocoa for coocoo poofs!


I mean, did Chris Brown hit her in the head again before she got dressed?

And once again because I love this so much, wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!


All photos were stolen from some shitty supermarket checkout aisle ass rag.

Paris Is Ignited

Met Costume Gala 2009


The Metropolitan Costume Gala was always the #1 A-list fantasy event for me (next to wing night at Wild Wings), even over the Academy Awards. The Oscars are normally a parade of dull, conformist InStyle cover actresses and their trophy husbands. But I always look forward to getting my issue of Vogue to look at photos of the gala’s decor (the French garden theme was one of my favourites), read about the menu and for once, drool over celebrity and the fashion superstar attendees (one of my pet peeves are random celebrities in Vogue instead of models). There was always Tom Ford, Suzy, Ingrid Sischy, Stella Tennant, Karl Lagerfeld, Amber Valetta, Stella McCartney and maybe throw in a gaggle of young indie starlets or Justin Timberlake (before he got annoyingly arrogant).

But this year’s Model as Muse gala just seems more like a celebrity fuckfest than ever. I’m sure it’s still incredibly fabulous but it’s really sad how celebrities are beloved only because they’re famous. It’s almost as if we don’t give two shits about what made them famous. Sometimes when things are too A-list, it becomes kinda… b-list. Sorta loses its cool, ya know? One of my favourite stories is when Jennifer Lopez wasn’t allowed into one of Versace’s party. Gone are the days of good ol’ fashion world snobbery. Now every fucking hacky top 40 artist and football player can just shimmy into these shindigs.

Lose the Kelly Osbourne’s, Katy Perry’s and Rihanna’s. Give me Naomi Campbell glaring at Robert DeNiro from across the Aztec exhibit. Marc Jacobs making out with his new hunky honeybuns on the steps. Valentino’s eyebrows falling off and landing into his flan. Sofia Coppola smoking with Chanel, Karen Elson and Aerin Lauder in the puffer’s area. Sophie Dahl pushing around her brioche.

Anyway, here’s a few red carpet photos of the Met Gala carnage…


First of all, a serious comment: Tom Brady’s pants are way too baggy. I like that Gisele is such a frigid bitch that she won’t even look below his waist to notice that he’s wearing Canali hammer pants.
Second of all, can you imagine the dinner conversation between these two? I like this bread. I like this table… I like that door.
If I wasn’t so lazy, I’d Photoshop two thought bubbles coming out of their heads with nothing in them.


Who let Mia Farrow’s maid off her leash and into a lycra blend dress? Back to scraping the baseboards in the den, Guadalupe!


I didn’t realize there was a pre-dinnerWho Looks The Most Miserable Contest. Someone call Fran Leibovitz over.


Like sister, like sister? Recent reports have revealed that Ashley Olsen has taken after MK and joined the Eating Disorder Club. Look at how her body is literally shrinking away from her dress as she walks up the Met stairs. She had disappeared so much after dinner that Jesus Luz mistakenly had a whole conversation with a dining chair seat cover.


Is it me or is Michael Jackson’s skin just getting whiter and whiter?


Anna Wintour is killing two birds with one dress. After the gala, she headed to a midnight madness screening at the New York Hentai Festival at NYU’s Student Union Lounge. Who knew the Editor-at-Large was so into tentacle rape?


Who is this? Jessica Swank? Or Katy Lively or whatever? Whoever it is, your date looks like an infant.


I think it’s kinda neat that Madonna looks like she’s doing a couture version of Borderline:

But really, everyone has been saying how she’s all recovered from her recent fall off her horse but does this look like a woman who has recovered from a fall?


I always thought Djimon Hounsou was a bit of an intellectual so it’s kinda surprising to see him following this former vapid Creative Director/reality show diva for Baby Phat around like a little puppy dog. She has him more whipped than when he was in Amistad.

Hopefully, they’ll reconsider the invite list next year and do a little more weeding of the lameasses.

Janelle Monáe

Henry recently recommended Janelle Monáe to me and I’m diggin’ it.

She looks like the love-child of Lauryn Hill and Alicia Keys. I think the fact that she comes from a musical theatre background is what grounds her music. Separates her from the usual formulaic Pussycat Doll-type female troupes or insanely tweaked solo artists like Rihanna. Monáe’s stuff is like psychedelic urban pop with a hint of Atlanta and some Andrew Lloyd Weber thrown in there for pizazz. You can absolutely hear the Broadway influence in her song structures and even the writing.

Anyway, you can check out Janelle Monáe’s amazingly stylish music video for Many Moons here:

Metropolis-inspired, it’s a fast-paced short film full of references from Twilight to Star Trek to David Fincher. There might be a little homage to Madonna’s Confessions Tour opening sequence there as well but we all know Steven Klein and Big M probably teefed the equestrian motifs from somewhere anyway.

God, T.I. is insanely hot, eh? Too bad he’d probably bust a cap in my ass if I tried to sit on his lap at The Standard… Wait, that wasn’t an euphemism…

Weapons of Mass Destruction

The good ol’ days…

Chris Brown didn’t hit me. Unless I wanted him to.
me and chris brown
This was us at Nobu before the Teen Choice Awards. Him in Canali and me in BCBG.

He was pretty sweet to me always. Never laid a finger on me.

Domestic violence isn’t funny, really.

I’ll wait till Craig Ferguson makes a joke about it

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