While working a freshly shined Corinthian leather tan that can only be achieved when your suntan assistant uses a bamboo spatula to gently smear organic coconut oil on your body right before the sun star crosses the meridian, Goopy Paltrow did an interview type thing at the BlogHer15 conference (via The Independent) in NYC on Friday. Goopy mostly talked about the greatest comedy site on the Internet, GOOP, but since GOOP talk makes most people bust into a 4 step yawn, she also gooped at the mouth about how things are going with her first ex-husband Chris Martin.
Goopy says that there are days where she hates Chris Martin the same way she hates a preservative usually found in canned cheese, but they both put their hate to the side for the sake of the children and Sunday brunch.
“I think, unfortunately, though we couldn’t stay in a romantic relationship, our values are very much around the importance of family and the importance of those relationships and I’m lucky that we’re aligned in that way. What that really means is, ‘Even though today you hate me and you never want to see me again, like, we’re going to brunch, because it’s Sunday and that’s what we’ll do. That’s what happening. The children are our commitment. Thank you! It’s definitely imperfect, but it gets easier with time and we’re really good friends. I really like him. He’s great. He’s a great dad.”
You know, I can hate on Goopy for almost anything (see: the Gwyneth Paltrow tag on this site), but I can’t totally hate on her for this. Bitch always finds ways to redefine the meaning of insufferable, but putting on a manufactured smile and stopping yourself from telling that disgusting cunt Chris Martin that you can practically smell the Funyuns he ate earlier with his carb whore Jennifer Lawrence IS the way to go. Besides, Sunday brunch is like church to rich white people. If Goopy canceled brunch because she knew she couldn’t resist the urge to beat Chris Martin in the face with the truffle quiche, all would be lost and her kids would never recover from that tragedy. If you ever want to ruin a rich white friend’s life, cancel brunch plans with them at the last minute. (Side note: One time I was waiting for a table at brunch and some 6-year-old-ish kid in an outfit that cost 300 times more than my Forever 21 Men’s outfit said to his dad, “Father, I think brunch is my favorite meal.” The future editor-in-chief of GOOP has been found!)