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Shows My Girlfriend Makes Me Watch: Fashion Police

Shows My Girlfriend Makes Me Watch is a series of hard-hitting articles that hit hard. Like, not so hard that you wind up with any permanent damage to your body, but hard enough that you know these articles mean business and can handle themselves in a fight. Written by Internet Humorist and Regional Spelling Bee participant Joe Oliveto, these articles take a look at television programming which, during his time as a single man, he was blissfully unaware of. However, having been introduced to the world of Having a Girlfriend, he has been subsequently introduced to the world of Watching His Girlfriend’s Favorite Shows, and is back from the frontlines to report on just the kind of shit that went down.

This week’s show:
Fashion Police.

When my girlfriend first told me that I would be watching a show called Fashion Police, I asked her to repeat what she said because I have pretty bad hearing. When my girlfriend second told me that I would be watching a show called Fashion Police, I got somewhat excited, because I like crime shows, and this program had the word “police” in its title, so I figured it must have something to do with law enforcement.

I figured wrong. Instead, it is a program in which Joan Rivers/Skeletor and a few other people assess whether or not a celebrity’s attire looked good, or whether or not it looked bad.

Let’s meet our hosts, shall we?

Let’s Meet Our Hosts, Shall We?

Joan Rivers: Mixing the mannerisms of a drunk stepmother with the vocal inflection of the lady who hands out the shoes at the bowling alley, Joan’s role as star of the program is to shoehorn in sexual puns and jokes whenever possible. Thank God she didn’t land a gig on What Not to Wear. She’d make contestants cry before they’d even tried on a single garment.

Kelly Osbourne: Listen, you know who Kelly Osbourne is. We don’t need to pretend anyone doesn’t. What you do need to know, though, is that she starts just about every sentence she says with the words, “Look, I really, really,” etc. If you don’t watch this show, that observation makes no sense to you. If you do, you know I’m right. “Look, I really, really like this dress” or “Look, I really, really don’t like this dress” or what have you.

Oh well. It’s a step-up from that music career she tried to have.

George Kotsiopoulos: Whenever Joan makes any sort of joke, listen to George. Either he doesn’t think it is funny at all and is indicating this by exaggerating his reaction, or he is really, really drunk. While everyone else is content to chuckle a little and turn their heads away in embarrassment –oh Heavens, this crazy old lady who looks like Dolly Parton and Mufasa’s illegitimate child just made an inappropriate joke!—George has to utterly howl with laughter, while his body convulses like a convict who wasn’t properly strapped down to the electric chair.

Giuliana Rancic: With a name like that, you know she’s either interested in fashion or is an entrée at The Olive Garden. Often, it seems like she is the person on this program who has the most insightful things to say about fashion. Also, whenever Joan says anything, Giuliana looks like she wants to murder her. Just an observation.

Show Format

Despite taking a more comedic approach to the world of fashion than perhaps some other shows have done in the past, Fashion Police keeps it classy by including such segments as “Rack Report,” in which the panelists try to determine the identity of a celebrity based solely on a photo of her cleavage, “Bitch Stole My Look,” in which the panelists compare two celebrities wearing the same outfit, and “Slut Cut,” which is absolutely horrible and sounds like a euphemism for some sort of a crime that pimps dish out on misbehaving prostitutes.

Unfortunately for this crime-drama fan, there aren’t any actual pimps or prostitutes on the show, except when they do a segment on Lindsay Lohan.

Overall

It pains me to say this, but in a brief moment of honesty, I’ll admit that Fashion Police is a funnier program than it needs to be. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go hate myself for admitting that.

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