I was going to have an 8th cup of coffee (aka non-organic, peon coffee beans that didn’t come out of the ass of a weasel cat in Indonesia) with a spoonful of Coffee-Mate (aka processed toxic powder), but now I don’t need it! Nothing gives me a quick pick-me-up like reading what Goopy Paltrow has to say about diet and stuff. It’s eyeball calisthenics time!
It was only two years ago when Goopy wrote about how her family is allergic to everything so they stay away from carbs, dairy and chicken eggs and sometimes it leaves their stomachs singing the chorus of Annie Lenox’s Why. But since Goopy is still trying to convince us all that she doesn’t think she’s better than everyone, she has come down from her sky high ivory tower to mingle with us McDonald’s-eating peasants and let us know that sometimes her children eat the same dumpster food we do and it’s okay. During an interview with Women’s Health (via People and UsWeekly), the failed poor person gooped at the mouth about her diet philosophy and also said that one of the keys to living a healthy life is to get her goop hole gooped as much as possible.
That’s literally the exact same face I make any time someone tells me they think Justin Bieber is “just misunderstood.” And I’m not sure why she’s making it, but Gillian Anderson might find herself making that same face during a post-fuck conversation in the future that starts with the words “Wanna see my scarf collection?” According to The Sun (via The Daily Mail), there’s a pretty good chance that might happen, because Scully recently asked Chris Martin on a date. Today I learned: insomnia is very real and those who suffer from it will do anything to cure it. No! Maybe she just really likes drowsy singing types?
A “source” (Scully’s hot baldy boss Walter Skinner, I hope) said 46-year-old Gillian and 38-year-old Chris Martin are an “unlikely combination” but have “definite chemistry.” Sure, but what about…you know…Chris Martin’s girlfriend Jennifer Lawrence? Maybe she’s cool with it because she’s a hard-core X-Files fan from way back who has always dreamed of a three-way with Scully.
Of course, neither Gillian not Chris Martin’s people have yet to comment on their possible date. But I’m sure the truth is out th-NO ALLISON! You got this far without making a hackey X-Files joke, you don’t have to start now.
In the meantime, don’t expect to see Chris’ ex-wife (or as she probably calls herself, his former executive espousal consort) Gwyneth Paltrow getting jealous and rushing to one-up him by smug-arming Fox Mulder into a quickie marriage. Comic Book Guy’s culinary-world cousin Mario Batali told the NY Daily News that he doesn’t think his pal Goopy will ever get married again. Oh, that’s sad. I was really hoping to find out what Goopy-sounding snobby person term Gwyneth would invent for her second marriage. You’re right – it wouldn’t be a marriage; it would be a later-in-life union of elevated souls or something.
Sadly, it looks like you will never get the chance to see Goopy Paltrow at Safeway asking an employee, “Pardonne-moi, where are your organic courgettes?” Because she is done with buying struggle limes and is back to buying rare Australian finger limes.
Last week, Goopy Paltrow tweeted that she had come down from her Tahitian pearl-encrusted crystal tower to find out what it’s like to eat like a poor person for a week. Goopy took the Food Stamps Challenge and agreed to eat only $29 worth of groceries, which is what a person on SNAP gets. Goopy tweeted a picture of a bunch of vegetables, which would make a fairly big bowl of guacamole, which would last most of us about a day.
Goopy did it to raise awareness about how crazy little food money people on benefits get, but last night, People said that she may have said “fuck it” to the challenge to eat the food of her people: richie food. On Tuesday night, Goopy and her dude Brad Falchuk went to a restaurant in L.A. called Animal. It’s called Animal because they serve every damn animal there.
The actress, 42, and the Glee co-creator, 44, dined at the L.A. restaurant Animal, which featured a barbecue-themed menu on Tuesday of pig ears, veal tongue and fried rabbit legs.
“They were sitting together, very cozy and romantic,” says the observer at the eatery. “He was totally rapt by everything she was saying. They were totally on a date.”
Goopie Paltrownette was overhead saying, “Let them eat veal tongue!”
Page Six says that Goopy also went to some fancy dinner for Posh Beckham that same night. But Goopy’s spokeswhore says that she didn’t quit the challenge, because she already did it last week, you GOOP-hating peasants!
“She already finished the challenge last week but only got around to posting the photo of the groceries on [Thursday].”
If Goopy does the SNAP challenge and she doesn’t shit up post after post on GOOP about how to make caviar and blinis out of tapioca balls, canned tuna water and Jiffy, did she really take the SNAP challenge at all?
But what really surprises me is that Goopy didn’t immediately do a 3-week long kumquat seed and hummingbird tears cleanse after doing the SNAP challenge, because you’d think she’d want to clean her insides of all of that non-organic guacamole.
UPDATE: Goopy Paltrow admitted on GOOP that she cheated by eating chicken (read: a hormone-free duck breast covered with bits of deep fried dolphin tongue) and black licorice (That’s what she fucking cheats with?! She is so GOOP) and then she went Norma Rae again:
As I suspected, we only made it through about four days, when I personally broke and had some chicken and fresh vegetables (and in full transparency, half a bag of black licorice). My perspective has been forever altered by how difficult it was to eat wholesome, nutritious food on that budget, even for just a few days—a challenge that 47 million Americans face every day, week, and year. A few takeaways from the week were that vegetarian staples liked dried beans and rice go a long way—and we were able to come up with a few recipes on a super tight budget.
After trying to complete this challenge (I would give myself a C-), I am even more outraged that there is still not equal pay in the workplace. Sorry to go on a tangent, but many hardworking mothers are being asked to do the impossible: Feed their families on a budget which can only support food businesses that provide low-quality food. The food system in our beautiful country needs to be subjected to a heavy revision—it is a cyclical problem, with repercussions that we all feel. I’m not suggesting everyone eat organic food from some high horse in the sky. I’m saying everyone should be able to afford fresh, real food. And if women were paid an equal wage, families might have more of a choice in the grocery aisles, not to mention in the rest of their lives.
C-?! When it comes to being poor, bitch gets an F-.
I know, too easy. TOO easy.
Up until not too long ago, I’m guessing that Goopy Paltrow thought that “food stamps” was a type of artisanal stamp ink that a Dutch artisan made using organic heirloom purple dragon carrots grown with Arabian horse manure and imported iceberg water. But then her good friend and Spanish eatin’ tour partner Mario Batali told her what food stamps really are and told her about how he raises awareness of the struggles people on SNAP benefits (formerly known as food stamps) face while trying to feed a family on such little money.
Mario Batali is on the Food Bank For New York City board and he’s fighting to keep congress from continuing to cut benefits. To help raise awareness, Mario asked New Yorkers and his fancy, privileged rich friends to do the #FoodBankNYCChallenge. Mario challenged them to feel the plight of the poor by only spending $29 per person (which is what people on SNAP get) a week on food. There’s rules for this challenge too. They can use coupons, but they can’t get food from others or use food they already have. Lord, fuck, you know some evil TV executive is looking at Mario’s challenge and thinking about how they’re going to pitch a reality show where a rich bitch and a poor person switch lives for a week. They’ll call it Class Swap and everybody will learn something from it, of course.
Mario asked The Out Of Touch Club’s president Goopy Paltrow to do the #FoodBankNYCChallenge, because he knew the kind of attention that’d get. Goopy is doing it and today, she tweeted all the groceries she bought for only $29. Goopy is trying to be healthy and shit, but it’s pretty impossible to be healthy on a $29 a week budget (which I guess is her point).
Is that for a family of rabbits? Is it for an Olsen? I mean, kale?! Cilantro?! Where are the packages of Top Ramen? Where’s the chicken? Where’s the 5lb bag of rice from the Asian supermarket? And all those limes. I know she has a lime tree and if she doesn’t, she can make little Moses hop the wall over to the neighbor’s yard to steal their limes. But she should tell him to throw the limes over before the guard dog gets him.
Well, I guess Goopy is going on one of her cleanses this week. She’s going to survive only on jalapeño and garlic elixirs and lime and kale enemas. The rest is for the purifying salsa face mask she’s going to make. I can’t wait for her new GOOP post about the SNAP cleanse.
To be honest, I’m glad she’s turning into something boring like a private social club, because I don’t think I have the stomach to handle picturing Gwyneth Paltrow letting her inner nasty corn broom out.
TMZ says that common woman Gwyneth Paltrow and her business partner Gary Landesberg have bought the flagship Hustler store on Sunset from Larry Flint, who was selling it so they could move closer to the Dolby Theater at Hollywood and Highland. Goopy plans on knocking it down and building her own fancy exclusive rich person social club.
Gwyneth’s club (working name: you don’t get to know that information, you disgusting poor) will basically be a rip-off of The Arts Club in London. You’ll have to be a Goop-approved somebody to get an invitation, it will cost a ton of money to join, and once you’re in, there’s a strict dress code and you’re not allowed to swear. Really? Well fuck that shit.
Currently, if you want to be a member at The Arts Club in London, it’s $2000 to join and $2000 a year. But TMZ says Gwyneth’s club promises to be much more expensive. This is where I’d make a joke about Gwyneth Paltrow being the real-life version of Snobby Saleswoman #2, but I believe Michael K would never speak to me again if I ever dared to utter such an insult to Snobby Saleswoman #2.
But I wonder what made Gwyneth decide to open her own fancy exclusive rich person club? My guess is because she discovered the fanciest private club in town wasn’t fancy enough for her. “What is that? A toilet? Where are the personal waste ushers? What’s next? That you don’t even use hand-picked bald eagle eggs in the brunch omelettes? Go start the Bentley, Blythe Danner – we’re leaving.“
Gwyneth Paltrow And Chris Martin Celebrated The One Year Anniversary Of “Conscious Uncoupling” In Mexico
Yes, its been a full year since Gwyneth Paltrow strapped herself to a Snob’s Choice™ imported rocket and blasted herself into the stratosphere of better-than-you smugness, aka the time she announced she was “conscious uncoupling” – not divorcing, because divorce is for trashy poors who make less than $20 million a year – from Chris Martin. And to celebrate such a milestone, Page Six says they hopped aboard a luxury steel air yacht (Goopy doesn’t do pedestrian shit like airplanes) and flew down to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with their kids.
Although something tells me Gwyneth wouldn’t call it an “anniversary”. Anniversary is too common. I’m sure when Gwyneth called up the $10,000 a night resort in Mexico to book their vacation and they asked “Are you celebrating anything special this week, Ms. Paltrow?“, she replied “As a matter of fact, yes. We’re acknowledging the spiritual maturity through enlightened choices that took place during the 584 million miles the Earth orbited around the Sun. Please ensure our room contains a bottle of organic kelp-filtered Champagne-style essence and make the towels look like two swans kissing.”
I think the person I feel the worst for has got to be the bartender working their swim-up bar. Imagine waking up every morning for a whole week knowing you’re about to spend the day making hand-pressed (at the request of the guest) cocktails and that you’ll be tipped in $200 white t-shirts.
Not to mention I’m sure they had to listen to her tell the story of conscious uncoupling at least ten times a day. “It’s so crazy! We’re totally best friends! We are like such such good friends now! Have I mentioned that we’re still best friends? Hey, where are you going? I need another vodka and lime leaf!“
Hey, you common woman there, Goopy Paltrow thinks you and her are the same. I guess that means that you’re currently lounging on a cashmere-covered, swan feather-filled daybed in a silk Gucci robe while a shaman exhales sage smoke into your twat (vagina steaming is OUT) as your assistant reads you this post in Castilian Spanish. It is much too early for your ears to be hit with the harshness of American English.
Goopy Paltrow talked to CNNMoney (via E!) about GOOP and once again tried to make her Internet emporium of pretentiousness sound like a regular, old site where the common woman can go to when she’s much too busy to find the perfect Dalai Lama-blessed black cultured pearl body chain in the $15,000 price range. Goopy, a common woman, is just trying to help her fellow common woman:
“What we try to do at Goop is curate and to edit. We know that a woman’s time is her most precious resource and we want to multitask, get a lot done, and what we want to do is provide the best solutions. I’m incredibly close to the common woman in that I’m a woman and I’m a mother and we all are in a physical body with beating hearts with compassion and love we are all seekers. We all want fulfillment, we all want to live our best lives. We want to be healthy and happy and squeeze the most we can out of life. I think that’s all women.
I see myself as an actor and a mother and as an entrepreneur. I don’t see myself as a guru at all. I’m not a guru because I’m the one asking the questions. I’m not purporting to know anything.”
I guess “common woman” is snobby rich lady talk for “basic bitch.”
If you say the words “common woman” in a serious way, you’re not a “common woman.” You’re a common moron. But seriously, I believe Goopy when she says that she’s incredibly close to the common woman. I mean, the day of that interview, she probably let a common woman yodel a Hungarian chant up into her cooch hole after eating a mint.* You can’t get closer than that to a common woman.
* Yes, letting a shaman exhale sage smoke into your twat is already OUT.
Here’s the common woman being a common woman at an amfAR event in Hong Kong the other day.
Because the world would be lost if everyone didn’t know which is the best spa to get your pussy steamed (pictured above on Goopy’s shoulder: what her pussy looks like after it gets steamed) and didn’t have a place to buy $32 cleaning products for your housekeeping staff to use, Goopy Paltrow wants her kids to take over Goop one day. This is actually good news, because our children’s children really deserve to laugh at all the dumb shit Goop throws up the same way we did.
In an interview with Bloomberg, Goopy says that Goop isn’t a super luxury site, it’s an “aspirational” site. I know, she spelled “fucking ridiculous” wrong. But really, she has a point. Who doesn’t aspire to starve themselves by only eating purified air to fit into a $2500 jumpsuit made from organic cotton picked from a field where the Dalai Lama once pissed in while meditating. Goopy thinks that her site can last forever and she hopes that one day she can step away and let little Apple and Moses run it.
“My dream would be that in 20 years, people would sort of recollect that I maybe had something to do with it at one point and my involvement would be less essential. I never wanted to do a proprietary brand. I wanted it to be its own thing that my children could run one day if they wanted to.”
Based on the rumors from last year that Goop is bleeding cash , Goop might not make it another 20 months let alone another 20 years. And now that Goopy has said that she wants Apple and Moses to take over her web emporium of overpriced ridiculousness, I fully expect them to one day change their names to Gluten and Cheese Whiz and open up a site called FuckGoop.org, where they’ll sell processed meat logs and $2 dorm shower flip flops just to spite their mom.
And here’s Chris Martin and his hard nipples carrying a Farmshop bag (that bag is totally filled with McDonald’s) while running errands in Brentwood the other day.
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: