A wise ho once told me “You can be classy, sassy, or assy” (truly wise words to live by), and since we’ve already covered sassy and assy, here’s Lupita Nyong’o working some classy. Lupita is the definition of class to begin with, but she could have shown up wearing a pearl-covered coochie shield and I still would have thrown her into the classy pile, because pearls are classy as hell. You could throw the trashiest, dirtiest skank in a pearl necklace (not THAT kind), and you’d be all “Excuse me, madame – may I offer you a glass of Champale and a cigarette that I didn’t roll myself just now in the bathroom?”
But really, what more is there to say about Lupita Nyong’o's amazing pearl-encrusted Oscar dress than: PEARLS. So many pearls. Every pearl. Sorry, oysters, all your pearls are belong to us. And by us, I mean Lupita; she has all your pearls now. Your job here is done, oysters; all you have now is being delicious when shucked raw and topped with mignonette sauce. And to Lupita’s stylist (who I assume is Pearl Van Oyster from The Waterville Gang), good job on the diamond earrings; I think pearls would have been too on-the-nose.
Here’s more of Lupita looking like the Atlantis entry into the Miss Universe pageant, as well as just about every other fancy dressed type at the Oscars last night, including Julianne Moore, JLo looking like the textbook definition of JLo, and the ghost of my last duvet Marion Cotillard:
I don’t know what the hell is on the floor in that picture, but it’s giving me a major craving for string cheese (“What else is new?” just hissed my stomach).
Gwyneth Paltrow Instagrammed this picture of Jennifer Lopez, Patrick Schwarzenegger, Miley Cyrus, Scarlett Johansson, and Amy Adams sitting in the front row of Tom Ford’s FW15 womenswear show in Los Angeles last night, and it was literally only 1/856th of the famous types that were there. Everybody was there. And when I say everybody, I mean everybody. Beyonce? YES. Angelica Huston? YES. Gina Gershon? HELL YES. My great aunt Gladys? PROBABLY. I haven’t asked her yet, but I’m assuming she was there, since everybody was there. It was like the Oscars and the Grammys and the Emmys and the CableACE Awards got together in the backseat of a 1994 Ford Tempo and made a random fluids baby.
I don’t know what Tom Ford did to get that many famous types at his fashion show, but it must have involved promising to wash their cars for a year or “take care” of their enemies and make it look like an accident or something, because people that I haven’t seen in forever showed up. Faith Hill was there. When is the last time you saw Faith Hill at something? Robbie Williams. ROBBIE WILLIAMS! I’m sure if the dog from Fraiser hadn’t died 9 years ago, he would have been there too.
And I know Kanye West thinks he’s a legitimate fashion designer now, but he needs to realize that you haven’t made it until Cristal Connors from Showgirls shows up to your show. Until then, you’re still a nobody (sorry Kanye). Here’s a bunch of famous people from Tom Ford’s show last night, including the living life legend herself Gina Gershon, Goopy, Reese Witherspoon, Sofia Vergara and Joe Manganiello, and John Legend wearing a Canadian Tuxedo for some reason:
Adding one more layer of WTF to last night’s already too-long Sam Smith Appreciation Awards, Her Majesty Beyonce’s gospel-sounding and possibly poached Grammy performance was introduced by the singer no one asked for, but keeps trying anyway, Gwyneth Paltrow. And in true Goopy fashion, Gwyneth made sure to remind us that Gwyneth Paltrow doesn’t have regular friends, like the poor losers watching at home, but special important famous friends by introducing her as “my beautiful friend Beyonce.” Even Beyonce was like “calm down, you thirsty trick, I want you to kiss my ass, not suck it dry.”
Goopy also decided to burp up some vague words about living in “complicated times” before introducing Beyonce’s performance of “Take My Hand, Precious Lord” (which was featured in the movie Selma, then followed by a performance of “Glory” by Common and John Legend), and naturally that went over real well on Twitter. Goopy introducing a civil right’s song makes about as much sense as my Pop Tarts-popping ass introducing Cookie Monster and a bunch of come-to-life veggies singing about eating healthy foods. “Complicated times”? The only thing Goopy knows about struggle is when they run out of heirloom radish greens at the her invitation-only organic farmers market.
I apologize to those of you who wanted to see more pictures of a humanoid corn broom in one of Vanna White’s old Wheel dresses from the early 90s, but Goopy didn’t walk the red carpet at the Grammys last night. So here’s Gwyneth Paltrow’s beautiful friend Beyonce serving up some store brand Laverne Cox instead:
I’m just going to assume that the reason Beyonce is serving up that court-side stank eye is because this picture was taken exactly 0.2 seconds after Jay Z suggested they move to Los Angeles because Gwyneth Paltrow told them to. “I’m sorry, but when did that bony know-it-all broomstick start making the decisions around here? There’s only one person who calls the shots, and it’s BEYONCE!…and maybe Blue Ivy Carter if I’m powered down for my weekly maintenance tune-up“.
So it sounds like Goopy can now add pushy real estate agent to her resume (right underneath pussy steaming expert). According to UsWeekly, Goopy won’t have to travel to NYC to desperately dry hump Beyonce and Jay Z for street credibility anymore, because she recently convinced them to move to Los Angeles. A source says:
“Beyonce and Jay Z are making L.A. their permanent home based a lot on the advice of their friends. The friend that really influenced them to move was Gwyneth Paltrow. Gwyneth was telling Jay and Bey about the quality of life for her kids in L.A. and really swayed Beyonce and Jay to make the move. It’s all for Blue Ivy.”
Beyonce and Jay Z are currently living in a hotel in Beverly Hills and are searching for the perfect home, but they’ve already found a preschool for Blue Ivy. TMZ says her royal highness BIC has been enrolled in a toddler program at a fancy private school, the tuition of which is $15,080 a year. “Oh, that’s cute – so you’re sending her to public school then?” asked Goopy, as she wrote out a $138,000 check for the Gooplets private Latin lessons at the Vatican.
And I can’t wait to read all about the story Gwyneth writes for GOOP about helping them move-in. “After a long day of watching the movers carry each piece of hand-crafted imported furniture into their cozy little 67-bedroom cottage, I decided to treat my good friends Beyoncé Giselle and Shawn Carter to a much needed pizza and beer break. So I had my private jet whisk us off to my favorite brewery in Belgium…“
I know, Goopy Paltrow really should’ve steamed her Apple Maker™ before putting on that crooked labia jumpsuit, because her camel toe looks all wrinkly and disheveled. I mean, if you’re going to anoint your vagina the face of vagina cleaning, then your coochie should always look freshly pressed.
In the near future, you can expect to turn on the TV and see a commercial for Stanley Steemer’s all-new service: vagina steaming! For just the low price of $49.99, a Stanley Steemer (more like Stanley SteamHER) technician will come to your home and steam the toxins right out of your pussy. Call 1-800-STEEEEEEEEEEMER, Stanley Steemer gets your cooch cleaner! You can thank Goopy for that.
Vagina steaming is nothing new. It’s been around for centuries and has been offered in fancy spas here in the US for at least a couple of years. Some say that it helps with menstrual cramps. But Goopy’s poon has discovered it and now she’s really trying to make it happen. A Korean holistic spa in Santa Monica called Tikkun offers up a service where you sit on a fancy toilet and infared and “mugworth steam” rises up into your poon and supposedly cleanses your uterus. It’s the closest thing you’ll get to knowing what it feels like to get bareback fucked by an overheated ghost. The service is called the Mugworth V-Steam, which sounds like a Harry Potter character played by Tilda Swinton.
And shockingly, it wasn’t from the overwhelming nauseous feeling they got from hearing Gwyneth Paltrow talk about how perfect Gwyneth Paltrow is all evening. It was from food! That’s right, famous cookbook author Gwyneth Paltrow admitted on The Rachael Ray Show (via Glamour) Friday morning that she once made a meal that made everyone fill the 17th century gilded French porcelain toilets in her home with hot barf. Now, I’ve read both of Goopy’s cookbooks, and I’d say that roughly 79% of what I saw gave me the heaves (so many vegetables and not ONE recipe for Frito Pie). But according to Goopy, it wasn’t because she was serving her guests some kind of disgusting pickled heirloom kholrabi over mashed sunchoke bullshit; it was because she screwed up the recipe for eggplant parmesan.
“I went to the store and bought some eggplant, a jar of tomato sauce, and some really rubbery mozzarella cheese. I didn’t know that when you cook eggplant, you first have to sweat it to get all the bitter juice out, and I didn’t realize that you also have to bread eggplant parmesan and fry it before. So I put slices of raw eggplant with jarred tomato sauce and mozzarella. And everyone threw up.”
Goopy then added “…and I don’t blame them; I too would throw up if someone had the audacity to serve me something as vulgar as store-bought tomato sauce from a jar. Normally I make my own by hand-crushing imported San Marzano tomatoes harvested from a 276-year-old farm and cultivated by a man known only as Giuseppe, but I guess I suffered some sort of brain stroke and thought it would be acceptable to use jarred sauce. ”
And Gwyneth must not have learned anything from watching people barf up her food, because on Thursday she triggered more gag reflexes by posting a recipe for Sex Bark on Goop. From what I’ve gleaned, Sex Bark is a chocolate-based snack made from something called “Sex Dust”, which sounds like something a Mummy’s cooze makes when it gets horny (aaaand I just barfed all over my keyboard).
Last night at the Los Angeles premiere of Mortdecai, 62-year-old sexy Cialis pill Jeff Goldblum and his 31-year-old knocked-up gymnast wife Emilie Livingston decided to give everyone in attendance an eyeful of what it looks like when an old-ass dude who can still get it gets the instant horn-horns for the girl who portions out his Lipitor into his plastic 7-day pill organizer by sucking each other’s faces on the red carpet. Normally I’m all for two horny sluts going at it in public, but watching Jeff mouth-hump on Emilie is 8 shades of NO. This looks like a daddy bird feeding a baby bird, or a Werther’s Original ad gone horribly, horribly wrong.
Thankfully, an even-messier someone was able to yank our eyes away from that mess, and that someone was Gwyneth Paltrow flashing half an organic free-range cashmere-basted boob:
Mothers, lock up your billionaire investment banker sons – Sexy Single Mommy Goopy is on the prowl! And maybe it’s because I’m a little high from the 3 bowls of French Toast Crunch I ate this morning, but those freckles of Goopy’s boopy sort of look like a happy little face, right? I can practically hear it offering me a cold glass of sparkling hand-pressed Madagascar lime leaf essence.
Here’s more of Jeff Goldblum acting like the definition of a late-in-life midlife crisis, Goopy serving up some “Mommy’s still sexy, right? RIGHT???” realness, as well as human guitar pick Johnny Depp, panty-dropping Scottish DILF Ewan McGregor, and jacked Crank Yankers puppet Tracy Anderson:
Okay corn broom, we got it – you still have the ass of a 22-year-old stripper. Sit it down.
During a game of “Plead the Fifth” on Watch What Happens Live last night, Andy Cohen asked living glass of coconut water Gwyneth Paltrow the question: “What is the hardest drug you’ve ever taken?” If I had to guess the answer, it would be either a fine French milled opium imported from a 89-year-old artisanal drug dealer in Paris or an organic cocaine-style nose talc hand-cut using an American Express Black Card. But I was wrong. According to Goopy, the hardest drug she’s ever done is ecstasy:
Sadly, she didn’t elaborate on the circumstances surrounding her experience rolling on E, but I like to imagine it involved Goopy wearing a pair of JNCO Jeans and a million plastic bead candy raver bracelets while sucking on a pacifier and spinning a couple glow sticks between her fingers. But in all likelihood, it probably went something like this:
After many months of rectal discomfort from walking around with a stick up her ass, Gwyneth went to her goopiopath (a doctor that deals exclusively with rich lady problems) and asked them to recommend something to treat it. Since the medical community has yet to discover a cure for Stuckupbitchitis, her doctor decided to prescribe a couple hits of ecstasy in an attempt to mellow her out. And it was the hardest drug she’s ever taken, because her doctor forgot to put it in a diamond-studded 24k gold decorative pill bottle and, ew, are you kidding? Pills out of a plastic bottle?
Later on, Goopy played a game with Andy called “I’m So Goopy” where he read off a list of things common peasants like, like jeggings and spray cheese, and asked which ones Goopy likes too. Goopy apparently likes sweatpants and Taco Bell. Taco Bell? Uh huh, sure. Ordering a cup of filtered water through the drive thru doesn’t count, Gwynnie!
Just when you thought Gwyneth Paltrow might not be nearly as insufferable as she seems, that come-to-life corn broom goes and spoils it all by grabbing a microphone. Goopy, NO! I just got “Cruisin’” out of my head. Update: Aaaand it’s back again. Please send some industrial-strength pain killers.
Goopy is still out hustling her appearance in Mortdecai (aka the role she was born to play – a snobby rich British lady), and last night’s stop was at The Tonight Show. Jimmy Fallon no doubt had a long list of dumb things they could do, but since she had just gotten a $1750 hand-pressed imported baby beluga oil hair flattening treatment, there was no way she was going near water. So they sang Broadway versions of rap songs instead. Because if there’s anything people want to see, it’s Goopy leaning against a piano looking like a human-sized tapeworm in some kind of weird beige onesie crooning “I don’t fuck with you, you little stupid-ass bitch.”
She also told Jimmy about being a teenage badass who used to sneak out at night to drink peach wine coolers and smoke on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum with her friends, and how she used to leave a note for her parents on her bed in case they discovered her missing that said “I’m really sorry. I’m feeling rebellious and I snuck out. It’s the first time I’ve ever done this.” Wow, such rebellion, much middle finger to society. But was it really necessary to leave a note? Her parents probably knew something was up when they noticed her sneaking some of the good crystal into her coat. Teenage Goopy may be drinking peach wine coolers, but she’s sure as hell not drinking them out of anything less than a fine crystal goblet, thank you very much.
Seen above looking like a snobby British schoolboy who is going through a chola phase without help from an actual chola, Goopy Paltrow was on Howard Stern today to promote that Mortdecai mess and a really, strange, bizarre thing happened. I listened to the entire interview and my eyes only rolled and bungee jumped out of their sockets three or four times. That might be a record.
Howard Stern usually gives the best interviews, because he gets deep and asks famous hos shit that nobody else asks like how much money they make and if they’re into anal. Howard didn’t ask Goopy any questions like that, but in his defense he probably knows that she doesn’t do butt sex since it’s pretty much impossible to do anal when your head is always shoved up your ass. Speaking of, she told Howard that she didn’t pull her head out of her ass until she turned 40. (Insert SureJan.GIF here)
Howard asked her about Brad Pitt, Ben Affleck, that heave-inducing “conscious uncoupling” term, Jennifer Lawrence and the rumor that she stole the Shakespeare in Love role from Winona Ryder. I threw up a bunch of quotes after the cut. Your eyeballs don’t have to be scared about overworking themselves. They might only roll five or seven times.