Set, inexplicably, to "Paul Revere's Ride" by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (I'm weird).
Scroll down my children and you shall behold
The gowns on display at the globes of gold.
On the seventeenth of January, in Twenty-ten
The red carpet teemed with hungry women
Who dressed in fashions bold.
Take, for example, this sassy scribe
Who dared to eschew black
Her garment looks stitched by an African tribe
Out of squid ink and potato sack.
One star’s bosom blossom caused Jon Hamm to frown...
And one startlet screamed as the leeches bore down.
One had her garment constructed of rags.
(Unbleached paper towel—my favorite color!)
One wore Bert’s unibrow with an old Hefty bag.
And one’s frozen face raised a shiny red flag.
(Smile, Cam! Oh... nevermind.)
Some, of course, looked divine, and I noticed a pattern
Women over 50 looked much less like slatterns!
Sparkles also emerged as a mark of good taste...
Except for poor Jenna, whose dress ate her waist.
(JENNA! I want you to look awesome; why do you torment me?)
The rest of the best showed off striking jewel shades...
(Though Rose here is looking as thin as a blade)
And Mo’Nique wore some drapery (sans the gold braid)
(I am such an asshole; she's crying about God and abused women.)
Joan here got panned for her ruffled regalia
(This makes me crave buttermilk.)
But if you don’t think she’s hot you’ve got no genitalia.
Meanwhile, a number of ladies debuted
Their Morticia Addams costumes...
Shrouded in black with mermaid tails of gloom
They seem to be terribly vexed.
On the flip side, Kate dressed in an Elmer’s glue hue
Perhaps on the prowl for a groom
Having stuffed her bra with Kleenex.
A few gentlemen brought with them some dates
Whose judgment was suspect at best
Clooney’s sweetheart, while no doubt genetically blessed
Wore an outfit that caused some debate
Her dress gave the impression her skin had been peeled
The underlying muscles revealed
Meanwhile, Sir Paul squired this lady fair
Wearing his scarf with a smug, knightly air
Did you know Ed Hardy made red carpet frocks?
Guidettes the world over are dying of shock
As they perfect the poofs in their hair.
Another contingent were decked out for prom
In fabrics bright and shiny
That swathed their figures tiny
They tried to pull off their looks with aplomb
But it looked like a Jessica McClintock bomb
Had exploded and hit them quite badly
If I could take that back I would, gladly
But poor Diane Kruger has never looked worse
It’s like the whole planet is spinning in reverse
And Lauren Graham (aka the Gilmore Girls mom)
Is wearing an outfit that gives me some qualms
As she clearly loves Bubble Yum quite madly.
Now, this Oompa Loompa is busty and cute,
And damn, that Duhamel looks good in a suit.
But Emily here walks a fine line
Get off of Jim—I mean, John! He is mine!
I think I need a whole stanza for Patricia Arquette
Whose sartorial choices give me cold sweats
Listen girl, YOU ARE HOT. YOU ARE FINE. YOU ARE IT.
Yet you’ve loved every butt-ugly dress you have met.
You also have troubling issues with fit.
Speckled gray sausage casings are not your friend
This dowdy parade needs to come to an end
You’ve got boobs and an ass,
And that’s called hourglass
Go ask Christina Hendricks to take you out shopping
I promise it’s worth all the cash you’ll be dropping
While you’re at it, pick up a white shirt and black shoes
For your hubby, who’s in need of his own fashion muse
With a few tweaks you guys’ll be the talk of the town
You might even steal Brangelina’s crown
And have the pick of any orphans you choose!
’Kay, this post needs to die
I’ve spent way too much time
Twisting in pretzels to make this shit rhyme
You might ask yourself why
I would even endeavor
To write a fucking long poem and try to be clever
And the answer is I have no idea whatsoever
And no, I am not high.
Thanks for reading my lyrical bitching
I hope you have found this blog enriching
Just remember that no matter what you do
Don’t ruin your face like Mickey Rourke
(For real, he looks like a side of pork)
Also, don’t get a facial tattoo.