If you’ve ever wanted to pay $1,000 to eat thimble-sized portions of imported red-crested tree rat tears and dehydrated organic purified air chips, now’s your chance! According to The Hollywood Reporter (via People) come-to-life corn broom Gwyneth Paltrow will host a fundraising dinner for President Barack Obama at her underground snob lair in Los Angeles next month. Which means that one month and one day from now, she’ll publish an article on Goop.com titled “Tips For Hosting A Casual Dinner Party For The President of the United States of America” and obnoxiously refer to him multiple times as ‘my best friend Barry‘.
But the party won’t be totally Goop-ified (aka there will be actual food and no one will be forced to watch Gwyneth do a 90-minute hip-hop-yogalates class with living haunted ventriloquist dummy Tracy Anderson). The event has been planned by the Democratic National Committee, and will begin with a reception at Castle Goopskull followed by a dinner where President Obama will answer questions from guests. Tickets cost between $1,000 and $32,400 per person. I bet there’s no difference between the $1,000 ticket and the $32,400 ticket. The Democratic National Committee probably guessed that Gwyneth Paltrow would need a way to feel superior even at her own dinner party, so they offered two ticket prices; one for the low-class poors and one that costs 32 times more for Gwyneth.
This will be the second time Martha’s favorite movie star has hosted a fundraiser for President Obama, the first was held during his re-election campaign in 2012. Which makes me wonder…what did Obama do to deserve such punishment? My Dinner with Goopy – TWICE?? Once would be enough for you to swear off dinner parties forever. At least he’s got a whole month to think of a convincing excuse why he can’t go. Here, I’ve already got some ready for him: you’re on an all-McDonalds diet, you’re allergic to kale water, you need to stay home and practice making your bed.
Meanwhile, Michelle Obama can just send Goopy this gif and be like “Just pretend I was there.”
YAAAASS! It’s that time again where someone asks Martha Stewart what she thinks about human bottle of organic unflavored coconut water Gwyneth Paltrow and she takes a giant messy 800-threadcount Martha Stewart Collection shit on her. WARNING: High levels of heart-warming verbal poetry ahead.
When asked for the 1,948th time about insufferable bed-making expert Gwyneth Paltrow and her never-ending quest to become America’s Next Top Snobby Blonde Lifestyle Pimp, Martha Stewart made sure to serve up a piping-hot slice of shade pie with Goopy’s name on it. Galina Reznikov’s posh Polish equivalent told Net-a-Porter’s Porter magazine (via Page Six) that the only person Goopy Paltrow should be giving life advice to is Iron Man and the showtune-shouting teenagers on Glee:
“She just needs to be quiet. She’s a movie star. If she were confident in her acting, she wouldn’t be trying to be Martha Stewart.”
The shade, the beautiful slow-simmered shade of it all. Actually, is that even shade? She pretty much straight-up calls a bitch out. Although just once I wish Martha would serve her cuntberries raw instead of cooking them into a sweet preserve. I truly look forward to the day when someone asks her about Gwyneth Paltrow and she rolls her eyes and hisses: “That bitch can lick my asshole. NEXT QUESTION!”
And even the most obtuse dum-dum knows by now how Martha Stewart feels about Gwyneth Paltrow (ie. she enjoys her in the same way one would enjoy a Sriracha enema), so are reporters just trolling her at this point when they ask her about Goopy? If so, I need to send every reporter who interviews Martha Stewart a muffin basket from here on out, because I can’t thank them enough for their contributions to the world of journalism.
Come-to-life bottle of imported organic sparkling tapwater Gwyneth Paltrow is, according to Gwyneth Paltrow, the best at everything. She’s the best at divorce. She’s the best at friendship. She’s the best at water. And now she can add one more extremely pretentious feather to her $984 hand-shaped self-important cap: Gwyneth is the best at teaching you how to make a bed. No, not like sourcing rare timber for the frame or designing the perfectly Goopy boxspring, but like, making a bed in the way you put sheets and blankets on it. THIS. BITCH.
Gwyneth Paltrow recently turned Goop.com into the asshole’s wikiHow by posting a step-by-step tutorial called “Making The Perfect Bed“. This may seem like a redundant article to most of humanity, since you probably leaned how to make your bed when you were 5-years-old, because IT’S NOT THAT DIFFICULT, but since Gwyneth Paltrow has liquid self-importance running through her veins, she’s offered to take us poor non-Gwyneths by the hand and teach us how to do it properly (aka The Goopy Paltrow Way). »
Again, cut to the real Martin Lawrence wondering: “Damn Gina! – I mean, Damn Gwynnie! When the hell did we have a problem???”
When it was announced that Chris Martin was slow-humping (you know that bitch has to make sex a ~soulful~ experince) on America’s Kewlest Sweetheart Jennifer Lawrence, most of us gleefully shot our eyes to the direction of Gwyneth Paltrow in anticipation for some kind of free-range hand-carved imported organic basic bitch meltdown upon learning that she’d been replaced by the cooler 24-year-old version of herself. But sadly, we’re not about to get one. Well, at least not for the time being. E! news says that Goopy is actually legit happy that her former partner in insufferable self-importance is getting his dick wet:
“Gwyneth is very happy for Chris, that he has moved on and found someone else,” a source tells E! News. “Their split has been remarkably amiable and they both just want the best for one another.”
Moreover, Gwyneth “can see why Jennifer is a good match for Chris,” our source adds. “Chris is very drawn to her personality, and ambition and talent. There are actually some amazing similarities between Jennifer and Gwyneth and how they view life and career, and so Gwyneth knows that ultimately Jennifer has the power to make Chris happy in the long term.
“And that’s all Gwyneth wants for Chris,” the insider reiterates. “They might not be a couple anymore, but they will always be co-parents and best friends.”
Gwyneth’s “source” (Hi Jessica Seinfeld!) used an awful lot of words, when really, they could have saved themselves some time by saying “Gwyneth is too busy fucking that weird looking dude from Glee to care what Chris Martin is doing. The End. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to pick up Gwyneth’s weekly order of hand-picked North African crocus stems, or else she won’t have anything to filter her imported sperm whale sweat with, and would you spritz your face with unfiltered sperm whale sweat? Yeah, I didn’t think so.”
Cut to the real Martin Lawrence wondering: “Damn Gina, when the hell did I go to a vineyard???” E! News says that Martin Lawrence, the this-makes-zero-sense union between Chris Martin and Jennifer Lawrence, were spotted two weeks ago on a goopy-sounding date at the Wolffer Estate Vineyard in New York.
“They were there on a date,” the source dished. “They were very low-key, nobody realized who they were.”
“The setting was super-romantic. They watched the sun go down together, then quietly left,” the insider continued, noting that it’s believed the two both sampled wines.
That it’s believed? Oh believe this, you’d know if Jennifer Lawrence had been sampling wine. First of all, JLaw doesn’t “sample”, she guzzles. Second, JLaw left quietly? That means she didn’t “sample” shit. If JLaw had been “sampling” wine, she would have found every set of stairs at Wolffler Estates, fallen down them twice, tried to climb one of the oak casks and ride it like Slim Pickens riding the bomb in Dr. Strangelove, referred to the Sommelier as a ‘Somalian Pirate’, and passed out clutching a bunch of grape vines she ripped from the ground. So no, she didn’t sample any wine, which means it sounds like the most boring trip to the vineyard ever.
Meanwhile, back at Castle Goopskull, Chris Martin’s older model Jennifer Lawrence, Gwyneth Paltrow, was reminding him that she’s still around by nominating him for the ALS ice bucket challenge by having her assistant (who’s name is probably Kevin, but she made him legally change it to something more pretentious sounding like Sébastien) dump a bucket of warm triple-filtered organic dewdrops collected from the petals of freshly-bloomed imported French peonies.
I love how she makes sure to mention that she’s also giving money. “I know a lot of celebrities are just dumping free tapwater on their heads, but I, Gwyneth Kate Paltrow, philanthropist and world’s best friend, am also donating money, because I am just ~so~ much better at the ALS challenge than you.”
Now that the “On The Run” tour has wrapped up (well, almost – the people of France still get to hiss out a bored “Le sigh” when the Stunt Twins bring their tired TWOO WUV act to town) Beyoncé has started to shift her energy from trying desperately to convince everyone that her marriage to Jay-Z is rock solid on Instagram to waterproofing her weave cellar in preparation for the inevitable tsunami of Bumble Bey tears that will drown North America when she announces there’s trouble in Camel-lot.
First she started looking for a new house, and now Us Weekly claims she’s looking for divorce advice. But instead of going to a marriage counselor or a lawyer, a source says she’s pulling up an imported marble foot stool hand-carved from the head of Michelangelo’s David and taking lessons from the world’s greatest best friend Gwyneth Paltrow in how to announce your divorce in the most obnoxious better-than-your-divorce way possible.
The “Crazy in Love” singer “has sought Gwyneth Paltrow’s advice as she plans her split,” the insider says. Multiple sources tell Us that Queen Bey and Jay will separate in the fall, after completing their On The Run tour dates. Blue Ivy’s mom is planning for the breakup to echo the Goop founder’s amicable “conscious uncoupling” from Chris Martin, the first source says.
“The day after the announcement, Bey and Jay will be spotted together,” adds the insider. “The two will be all lovey-dovey.”
But what if Beyoncé wants to continue her education and learn more about being an insufferably snobby twat? Thankfully, The Goop Institute of Elitism offers a variety of post-divorce programs. For $500,000, students may enroll in any of the following classes personally taught by Professor Gwyneth K. Paltrow herself: General Snobbery, Perfection, Advanced Cluelessness, Living As A Struggling Single Mother, Billionaire Hunting, TV/VCR Repair, Bookkeeping, Auto Mechanics, Business Management, AND MORE! To receive a brochure from the prestigious GIoE, call 1-800-SNOB-4-ME, and please allow 4 to 6 weeks for delivery.
Cook book author and expert-level gold digger Jessica Seinfeld (yes the woman who left her husband of four months for Jerry Seinfeld. Get that Kramer cash, bitch!) pretty much told us really all we need to know about Jessica Seinfeld when she posted a picture of her best fwend Gwyneth Paltrow to Instagram on Sunday with the following caption (WARNING: Toxic levels of celebrity ass-kissing ahead):
“I have never met anyone with more true and loyal best friends than this baby girl. She is deeply and intensely loved by her friends. I hope each of you has someone in your life that is a wise and steady North Star like this one is to so many…Why not tag those people in your life who kill it in the friendship department? It’s Show Appreciation Sunday. (I made that up).”
Sorry, did I say ass-kissing? I meant hardcore salad tossing. Jessica Seinfeld’s tongue was so deep in Gwyneth’s goop-chute, she could practically taste the cold-brewed bluefin tuna tear tea in her stomach. That was some Journey To The Center Of Goop’s Massive Ego shit.
Seriously though, how much did Gwynnie have to pay her to say that? Jessica’s got a tight wallet-humping game, so you know that bitch didn’t come cheap. I bet the breakdown of services went a little something like this:
Gold Package: Alluding to friend, friends, and/or friendship ($1700 for each mention, plus unlimited access to the spa at Castle Goopskull)
Platinum Package: Sounding sincere (2 boxes imported cashmere tampons, 1 endangered white tiger facial)
Whatever Is More Expensive Than Platinum Package: Use of any of the following words – kind, true, loyal, down-to-earth, plus referring to you as “baby girl” ($5000 per word, a wig made of your hair, and Tracy Anderson)
But it doesn’t really matter what she said, because I kept getting distracted by Jessica Seinfeld’s hair! It looked like a gnarly wave just begging me to Photoshop a little surfer hanging ten inside it:
According to Star (via Daily Mail) professional bitchy sorority girl and the Ghost of Blake Lively Future Gwyneth Paltrow is doing Brad Falchuk, the creator of Glee and a dude who sort of looks like Jonathan Cheban with all the slow-looking lizard Photoshopped out of his face. A source claims Gwyneth and Brad spent a weekend back in June together at the $8,000 a night Armangiri resort in Utah, where they had dinner and hung out by the pool. Extra gross note: the source says Gwyneth was topless.
They first met on the set of Glee back in 2010 when she guest starred as “Gwyneth Paltrow Trying To Make Singing Gwyneth Paltrow Happen Again” (aka “Holly Holiday”). Brad’s wife filed for divorce in March of 2013 and Gwyneth announced she was calling it quits with Chris Martin in March of 2014. Insert Church Lady How Conveeeeenient here. NO! I’m sure she wasn’t wrapping her organic free-range pussy around Brad’s trouser mic on the set of Glee. If anything, they probably bonded over their mutual eye roll-inducing contributions to American culture (Goop.com, Lea Michele).
But don’t start monogramming the hand-woven endangered Italian silkworm towels just yet, because I don’t see this lasting very long. An $8,000 a night resort in Utah? EW BRAD, HOW DARE YOU?!?! You might as well have just pulled up to a dilapidated Motel 6 off the interstate and told her to grab some snacks from the vending machine while you negotiate for a room that doesn’t smell like Beefaroni and used condoms. Actually, that’s probably the first thing she said when they pulled up to Armangiri. “Yuck, why does it smell like poors here? Is that water in the pool? I only swim in imported cultured pearl dew from the moons of Venus. I hate you, take me home.”
I’m sorry for those of you who read the words “Gwyneth Paltrow aggressive facial” and your mind immediately went to a shameful dark disgusting stomach-turning place. It’s my fault; I’ll grab you some brain bleach and the number for Lacuna Inc.
When her majesty Gwyneth Paltrow wants to tighten up her snobby pores and smooth out the stuck-up wrinkles on her insufferably smug face, she doesn’t pull out a tube of cold-pressed organic dolphin tears or a single-use jar of crème de la white tiger placenta. Why? Because she’s not a bougie bitch, that’s why! Ew, can you even imagine Princess Goopy slathering her precious visage in something as budget as white tiger placenta? No, when Gwyneth Paltrow tells Hello! (via E!) that when she wants to wake up looking smooth and refreshed, she hops into her LX-5 Gleep-Glorp (it’s a very exclusive luxury sedan from Jupiter that you definitely can’t afford, so don’t bother) and zips over to a super-secret snobby rich white lady clinic to get slapped in the face with a laser:
The actress loves the effective but not-so-pleasant Thermage laser treatment. “It’s non-invasive but it’s quite painful, like having your face smacked with a rubber band that has an electric shock in it. But it works.”
The Thermage treatment is also commonly known as the “face-ironing treatment.” The treatment boosts collagen levels in the skin’s lower layers, creating a tightening effect to the top layer.
But even if you’re up for the pain, Thermage laser treatments will cost you. A half-face treatment costs around $3,900, while a full-face treatment comes with the hefty price tag of $5,240.
I bet it doesn’t even hurt that bad normally, but they turn up the laser full-strength when Goopy comes in just so they can experience the satisfying feeling that comes from getting to slap the smug off her face. They’re probably not even using a laser; they’re just covering her eyes and snapping actual elastic bands on her face for 10 minutes while the receptionist runs her credit card through the machine for $5,240. And just like that, I think I’ve found a way for Michael K and I to make a shitload of money off of dumb vain hos and retire at 35 (cut to us one year later at 36 spending our last $20 on a plate of Bacon Ranch Quesadillas at Chili’s and searching the ETC section of Craigslist).
And I’m surprised that Gwyneth didn’t elaborate on her painful experience with facial ironing by comparing it to her face bravely fighting in a war zone.
Max Factor sees Goopy Paltrow as Brigitte Bardot. I see Jennifer Lawrence as Taylor Momsen in an ad for Monistat.
For their 100 Years of Glamour campaign, Max Factor took the most unglamorous piece of freeze dried organic jicama and did her up as icons throughout the decades. For the 80s, they did her up as her former partner in macrobiotics turned frenemy Madge and bitch looks less like Madge and more like my first grade friend Armando who wanted to be Cyndi Lauper for Halloween, but his mom got confused and bought him stuff for a Madonna costume instead. (Yeah, he dressed up as Madonna for Halloween in the first grade. He was the original Princess Boy and a drag vanguard.) For the 70s, they did her up as Farrah Fawcett, because they wanted to prove that even when you give her hair wings and cover her in gold sparkles, she’s still about as exciting as a soft 2 inch dick floating in a Styrofoam bowl full of tap water. For the 50s, they did her up as Audrey Hepburn, because Audrey hasn’t been tortured enough and it’s never going to stop until every government declares her image a historical site so everyone can stop fucking with it. And for the 60s, they did her up as Brigitte Bardot and I don’t see a drop of Brigitte Bardot. I just see Goopy meditating in her $5,000 cashmere and bunny pubes sweater after spending 8 hours getting several dolphin amniotic fluid enemas in a sauna. That isn’t make-up on her eyelids. That’s black swan poo and clay. It sucks out the toxins your eyes ingest when you look at a McDonald’s for too long.
I can deal with Goopy being a pretentious organic cunt waffle who spits at peasants, but I cannot deal with her committing the greatest sin of all: lazy drag.
via The Daily Mail