The best thing I can say about this photo is that I might be in love with the pink coat on the woman in the background.
Amber Tamblyn is not a stick, and I love her for it, but she's also not a dramatically pear-shaped spinster schoolmarm -- the effect presented by this choice of dress. You could lie her down on a table and a nearby funeral director would go, "Ah, just the tablecloth I need for this wake today."
Also, Amber needs to get her colors done. She defaults to a shade of lipstick that's between Fire-Engine Red and Hooker Scarlet, and it completely dominates the rest of her lovely features. It's all I can see when I look at her (well, that, and what appear to be shoes made of fabric that matches her depressing skirt).
But seriously, the mouth looks like she stole it from Ronald McDonald, and that's sick and wrong. Nobody loves a clown, Amber. Nobody. Not even God.
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