In this week's edition of GOOP (Grossly Ostentatious Oogly Pretentiousness), Fishsticks Paltrow conducts an overly thorough, in-depth Cuntline NBC investigation on her harrowing journey from Paris, France to London to Los Angeles for the Emmys. Fishy's Emmys scrapbook should really be titled Two Days In The Life Of A Working Mother, because like every working mother Fishy traveled in First Class and stayed in a 12-star hotel suite while her team of nannies tried to keep the scent of "North America" off her children by rolling them in organic baby powder and dried orchid leaves in a room next door.
You know, Fishy writes that she took a commercial flight to L.A., but do we really believe that she breathed in coach mist for that many hours? Bitch is lying. While in France, Fishy made two of her Russian maids pull her head out of her ass which made all the bullshit she stores up hit the ground so hard that it tossed her across an ocean and a country. Fishy finally landed in an empty pool of Neil Lane jewels in L.A. That's how she really travels.
Fishy does make an Over the Moon violation (and uses the word "CHUFFED" in the same paragraph) in this ode to a working mother, but I've got bigger fish(sticks) to fry. Like how she came upon a disgusting sight that forced her to snap her fingers at her personal valet and bark at him to reupholster her seat in shark leather.
It’s a minute to show time, and I find my seat in the second row (right behind the cast of 30 Rock!) The seat filler before me was sweaty … so my chair was wet. Gross!
The 63rd Primetime Emmy Awards begin, hosted by Jane Lynch from Glee!
I live for Tina Fey and I love Kenneth from 30 Rock! Wait ... why does my arm look like that and since when do I have 9 chins?
That's not 9 chins. That's your jaw cringing and weeping at being an accomplice to the stupid fucking shit that comes out of your mouth, you dumb dick hole.
But back to the seat filler thing. Is that a direct insult to the Emmy's premiere seat filler Chicken Cutlets? Phoebe Price doesn't sweat. She can't. She had all of her sweat glands removed, because they threw off her balance and made it hard for her to pose in front of a camera for 12 hours straight on Robertson Blvd. But I'm sure who ever sweat like a human all over Fishy's seat will have each of their skin pores plugged up so this never happens again.
And it might not have been PP who completely ruined Fishy's seat, but it was definitely the other kind of PP if you know what I mean. If you're sitting on Fishy's seat, it is your duty to piss all over it.
via Leanord Kravitz's Twitter (Thanks Angela!)
Trying to prove that the stick that's permanently shoved up her ass is actually a funny bone, Fishsticks Paltrow showed up to the Emmys last night in a hilarious dress that got more laughs than the shit was on Charlie Sheen's head. When she was talking to Ryan Gaycrest on the red carpet, I thought his peen was going to crawl up into his stomach so he could barf it out when he said that her Pucci dress was so sheer that we all faced the threat of seeing her cucci. Bitch's sense of reality is as fried as her hair if she thinks this shit looked sexy. GOOP looked like she was wearing a dildo cozy made of funeral doilies and grandma's old panties complete with Metamucil-induced skid marks.
Fishy is as skinny as a tampon string, but that dress made her look like she's serving up organic caca souffle. But I'm sure that a mere mortal will soon write an essay in The Morton Report about how they were choking on a chicken wing at an Emmy party when the sight of Fishy's stomach made them dry heave it out and SAVED THEIR LIFE! Fishy saves lives even when she looks like cold vanilla shit wrapped in memaw's table runner. Move on...
Here's a small gallery of more hos from last night along with my one-second comments. In order:
Paula Abdul who I'm assuming is wearing a sash made of bedazzled Vicodin pills for easy access.
Claire Danes who needs some fucking Latisse for her limp ass hair.
The Ginger Keeper of the Magnificent Chichis whose husband was obviously Mother Theresa in a past life.
Heidi Klum whose coochie looks like its foaming at the mouth. Cujo coohie!
Sofia Vergara whose teeth scare me.
Jon Hamm with Jennifer Westfeldt whose face is starting to look like it's made of non-biodegradable materials. And I don't know if Jennifer's sticking out her stomach in that second picture or if her ovaries are orgasming from touching her piece (probably the latter).
Kristen Wiig whose nostrils must've had a case of the shies last night.
Evan Rachel Wood who at first I thought was Austin Scarlett in drag and got really disappointed when I learned the truth.
Peter Dinklage who made my nipple holes squeeee when he picked up that big Emmy and spoke at that tiny microphone.
Julianne Marguiles who should throw those clear aquarium rocks at whoever told her to wear that busted dress.
Olivia Munn who needs to have a seat and stop.
Jim Parsons who needs to spend less time dipping his face in a bowl of foundation and more time manicuring those brows.
Kate Winslet who is there.
Chris Martin and GOOP are rarely ever photographed together and I get it. They're both saggy cunt balloons full of cold farts of self-importance, but at least they know that most cameras can only handle one of their egos in the same frame. If the shells holding their egos touched as a camera's flash went off, a black hole vortex would open up, sucking all of our souls into it and she wouldn't have anybody on earth to terrorize with the piss streams of pretentiousness that shoot out of her mouth hole on a weekly basis. So we should be thankful to GOOP, blah blah blah... But sometimes they go so out of their way to not be photographed together that it makes them look even more ridiculous than usual. Yes, that's possible.
When Coach threw Fishsticks Paltrow a party in London last night, Chris Martin showed up a little while after her dressed like a metrosexual unabomber and told all the photographers to keep their cameras away from him. Fine. The feeling is mutual, I'm sure. Show me a camera that wants to willingly wink at Chris Martin's queef spout of a face and I'll show you labia lips on a dick hole.
But then when the party was over, Fishsticks walked down the street to her car and Chris waited inside. When Chris was given the signal, he ran his stupid ass down the street and hopped into the backseat where Fishy was hiding with a blanket over her gills (ho has never looked better).
Any normal celebrity couple who doesn't want to make a big deal out of their relationship would've just: a) casually walked to their car together while keeping their hands to themselves or b) taken separate cars. But these two twat sticks just have to create a DRAMATICOMGGELLINI scene. I swear, these two don't even have to try to act like assholes, it just comes naturally.
Before we begin our favorite weekly activity of stoning Fishsticks Paltrow with stones not imported from the coast of Majorca and not cleansed with the distilled tears of an albino dolphin (that's the worst part for her), let me ask if any of you know the exact time in that Contagion movie when she dies a slow, painful, tonsil-curling, eye-bulging, blood-spewing, nipple-shriveling death? Because that's obviously the only part worth sitting through and I need to know what time I should make dinner reservations at the Chevy's across the street from the theater. Now on to THE STONING!
In Contagion, Fishy plays a cheating wife who bring a virus (GOOP) to the United States that makes people spit out liquid death as their insides slowly turn into the meat that Taco Bell slaps between a shell. It's the same suffering Fishy briefly went through when she had to kiss Matt Damon during a scene after he drank an entire Pepsi. One of her slaves-in-waiting to quickly change her sheepskin tongue condom (she wears one whenever she has to come in contact with a bitch who hasn't been deemed 100% organic by the FDA).
Fishy talked about both cheating whores and viruses to The Daily Telegraph. First up, is Fishy's thoughts on passing the peen:
"I am a great romantic - but I also think you can be a romantic and a realist. Life is complicated and long and I know people that I respect and admire and look up to who have had extra-marital affairs. It's like we're flawed - we're human beings and sometimes you make choices that other people are going to judge. That's their problem but I really think that the more I live my life the more I learn not to judge people for what they do. I think we're all trying our best but life is complicated."
"Learn not to judge people"? BITCH, don't act like if I ate a Twinkie in front of your face, you wouldn't shit out the stick that's stuck up your ass, chisel into a gavel using a Cartier shank and bring it down as you yelled, "GUILTY OF NON-GOOPERY!"
Fishy then went on to say that if a virus killed cheaters, there would be no mortals on earth for her to terrorize.
"If death by virus was a punishment for extra-marital affairs there would only be three dudes left in this world right now...... I'm lucky - I have a wonderful, blessed life. I have two fantastically delightful children and a very nice husband, so... Knock on wood."
And then she went on about how disasters happen for a reason (Note: There's NO reason for GOOP so ho's belief ain't shit):
"I don't believe in religion at all but it's spiritual. I believe in a divine power and I believe that everything happens for a reason and if it's your time to go, it's your time to go."
But back to the cheating thing. I love how she basically says that all husbands cheat before she quickly tries to pull Chris Martin out of that category by saying how happy she is. I see what you did there, GOOP, and it didn't work. "Very nice husband" is like saying "cheating whore bastard who hates my wood-burning pizza" with a fake smile.
If a virus killed man cheaters, we'd definitely see Chris Martin's face during the In Memoriam at the Annual Cunt Awards.
With the 10th anniversary of 9/11 coming up, we're going to hear a million "How I Missed Death On 9/11" stories, but this one is so special that it will be put into history iPads for our great grandchildren to read about when they ask the question, "How did Fishsticks Paltrow become a saint?"
Lara Lundstrom tells The Morton Report that on the morning of September 11, 2001, a real-life Sliding Doors moment co-starring future saint Fishsticks Paltrow caused her to miss her subway train by 10 seconds, which then caused her to show up late to her job at the Twin Towers. You know where this is going. I'm ICANT-ing from every part of my body, so I'll let The Morton Report take it from here:
“It was one of those mornings that felt good, you had a little skip in your step. What the heck - I always cut across 7th Avenue. Then all of the sudden a silver Mercedes SUV came barreling down towards me.
"I stopped and they screeched to a halt. Then it developed in to one of those classic who-goes-first situations. It got ridiculous. Then I made eye contact with the Mercedes driver. OMG it was Gwyneth Paltrow.
"I knew she lived down the street, so it made sense. She waved me across, I crossed and she continued on her way. At least if I was late for work I had a story to tell.”
She raced to the subway, hurtled down the stairs to the platform only to watch the doors of the 1/9 slam shut.
She had no idea she had just experienced her own real life Sliding Doors moment, the movie starring Paltrow about a chance romantic encounter that depended on whether or not she caught a subway train.
"At that time I was annoyed at everything that had made me late that day, including Gwyneth Paltrow," Lara recalls.
Right when Lara climbed up the stairs from the subway to the concourse of her office building, the first plane hit and she ran back down. I'm still ICANT-ing by the way...
Since that terrible day, Lara has lived with two dreams: one recurrent nightmare where she perishes in the towers, the other where she thanks Gwyneth Paltrow for saving her life. It was her true-life Sliding Doors moment, an encounter that saved her life
"If I had made that train I would have been at my desk on the 77th floor of 2 World Trade center," says Lara. She has now written that letter, reminding the Oscar-winning actress of their chance meeting on the street and the dramatic impact on her life.
So this is what the Insane Clown Posse was talking about. It truly is a miracle. If Rosemary never switched her baby with Blythe Danner's in the nursery, Fishy never would've been raised with a silver spoon up her ass and then she never would've been rich enough to drive a silver Mercedes SUV through Manhattan and then she never would've saved Lara's life.
The story doesn't mention it, but there's a good reason for why Fishy was driving herself like a common peon that day. Fishy was forced to fire her chauffeur after he had the nerve to show up wearing polyester pants from Penney's when he knew very well that she's allergic to the sight and scent of them. So if you want to get technical, the sainthood should really go to polyester (or Rosemary), but we'll let that one slide.
Fishy's publicist says that she's "deeply moved" by the story. He means that figuratively, of course, since Fishy can't physically move at the moment since this story put another 50 hundred tons on her ego.
GOOP: Never forget.
Fishsticks Paltrow wants us to know that whenever her face looks like that of an Albino Asian, it's because she IS an Albino Asian (just like she's African) and it isn't because she's stuffed her face with fillers. Even if Botox was made of the milky discharge from a beluga whale's lower nipple and cost the price of most people's cars, Fishy still wouldn't touch it. Fishy, who is obviously trying to get a membership card to Kate Winslet's League Of Judgmental Hos, tells German's OK! Magazine that she raises her nose to almost all plastic surgery.
"Before, I didn't care about it. And I still refuse to use silicone, Botox or any other of those gimmicks out of pure vanity. But a breast correction after breast-feeding -- why not?"
I take back what I said about Fishy looking like an Albino Asian in that picture. Bitch looks more like one of her slaves just grabbed her hair and pulled her head out of her ass. It has that colon-flattened look about it and it hasn't settled yet. Definitely not Botox. Botox is only for the homely poors!
But really, breast correction for incorrect breasts? Maybe that's what grand dames of their own asses call it, but us peons who talk real call it, "getting your tits done, bitch."
Fishy doesn't need breast correction surgery since she really has no breasts to correct. Tongue correction surgery on the other hand....
When Elle Decor asks the high cuntess of pretension Fishsticks Paltrow about some of the things she can't live without, you know it's going to be good. Fishy finally gets to GOOP to a magazine that GOOPS her same language. It's like two ivory-gilded assholes gently rubbing together to make grandiose music that the ear drums of the poors can't hear.
Fishy basically lets us know that when the apocalypse begins next year, her shanty shack will have a galvanized bathing tub on its bunk and lanterns made of her servants' skin will line the shelf that holds all of her religious books (note: you know the only thing on that religion shelf is an autographed copy of her own cookbook).
Put on your YUBZ retro eyeglasses so you don't get GOOPiation and read all about the things Fishy cannot live without:
1. De Gournay Hand-Painted Wallpaper
I indulged with one wall in my London living room covered in a gorgeous pattern.
2. Seasonal Flowers
I like single-variety arrangements—peonies, hydrangeas, and white lilies—casually arranged.
3. Darren Almond’s Photography
His arresting, large-scale artwork brings a sense of majesty to a room.
4. Charles Edwards Star Lanterns
I hung three of these at different levels in the stair hall so that we could pass them on our way up to bed at night.
5. Antonio Lupi Baia Tub
It’s in the middle of my bedroom—perfect for a relaxing wind-down and for bathing the kids.
6. Juxtaposed: Religion Shelf
Built-in slots hold holy books—including the Qur’an, Bible, and Tao Te Ching—all at the same level (which is how I like to think about religion).
7. Clothbound Penguin Classics
These gorgeous editions make the books so tempting to pick up, again and again. The ultimate cure for sore muscles.
8. YUBZ Retro Handset
A handset cuts down on cellphone radiation. I use this one for my BlackBerry calls.
I know you can't wait to use the "brings a sense of majesty to a room" line when you're showing your guests the Thomas Kinkade blanket hanging on the wall over your Jennifer Convertible.
You know, I bet the bathtub in the bedroom was Chris Martin's idea. When Fishy's in bed, creaming at the gills about indulging in wallpaper, the tub in the bedroom makes it convenient for him to dunk his fat head into until the bubbly image of death fills his eyes.
But Fishy's tub in the bedroom ain't shit. Bitch needs to get a tub in the middle of her kitchen. You haven't lived until you've washed your taint with one hand while rotating your Hungry Man meal in the microwave with the other. That's true practical luxuriousness!
Fishsticks Paltrow's private in-home colonist is probably wondering why they keep sucking out clumps of wig hair along with pieces from the next GOOP newsletter from her porcelain-glazed asshole, and now they know why. During an interview with Elle, Fishy shoved her head all the way up into Beyonce's ass, and Beyonce did the same thing to Fishy during an interview with Harper's Bazaar. The makers of The Human Centipede now have the plot for their next horror show!
The stick that is usually up Fishy's ass shot out of her mouth when Beyonce's head bopped up into her b-hole with this comment:
"She pushes her boundaries all the time. You go to her house and she makes you feel like you never want to go home. She is what I strive to be one day."
Let me fix that for you, Beyonce. "She pushes the boundaries of being absolutely fucking terrible all the time. You go to her house and she makes you feel like you want to go home immediately. Like a prison. She is what gives me hives every day."
"She is what I strive to be one day." Sick. Congratulations, Jay-Z's jizz, that quote just took your title as the grossest thing that has ever shot out of Beyonce's mouth.
Poke at Basement Baby, because somebody's going to need to stage a GOOPervention.
via Digital Spy
Elle Magazine should really change their name to The Hell? Magazine this month, because Fishsticks Paltrow has nearly outdone herself by launching clueless shit nugget after clueless shit nugget off of her tongue during the interview.
Name dropping Jay-Z and Beyonce so much that they are considering dropping and changing their names completely so Fishy will never be able to find them? CHECK!
Bragging about how strangers come up to her and compliment her hot post-baby bikini body? CHECK!
Saying that she's got the dirtiest mouth out of all her friends even though we all know that the word "fuck" sounds like the name of a 5-star Czechoslovakian restaurant when her pretentious ass says it? CHECK!
Starting stretching your eyeballs and get ready to roll:
On getting support from Beyoncé on her surprise duet with Cee Lo Green at the Grammys: “This story always makes me cry…It’s 10 in the morning and Beyoncé schleps it all the way down to the Staples Center to watch. I mean, She’s Beyoncé !”
On the advice Beyoncé gave her before her performance: “Beyoncé’s like, ‘Okay. The singing is great. But you’re not having any fun.’ She’s like, ‘Remember when we’re at Jay’s concert and Panjabi MC comes on and you do your crazy Indian dance? Do that. Be you!’”
On creating a solo album: “Beyoncé and Jay—they think that I should just go do it by myself. That I should go…in a studio and see what happens. And if it’s good, do it. And if it’s not, don’t. So that’s probably what I’ll do.”
And then after Beyonce told Fishy to do her Indian dance, she turned to her cousin and was like, "Remember when you peed yourself while laughing at that bitch do her Indian dance at Jay's concert? Don't drink any water, because you're going to be doing a lot more laughing tonight. Panjabi MC! He wasn't even at Jay's show. I made it up and she nods at me like 'uh huh.' Bitch is crazy. Oh, and can you believe she asked me if I would help her with her album? Is my name Basement Baby, bitch? I told her to do it by herself. Like I need another bomb on my hands. I should've given her that shitty Girls Who Rule The World song. "
Fishy then swam past the topic of her music and got into GOOP:
On deciding to launch GOOP: “When you go to Paris and your concierge sends you to some… restaurant because they get a kickback, it’s like, No. Where should I really be? Where is the great bar with organic wine? Where do I get a bikini wax in Paris? People know that I know that…”
On going public with her personal care regimens: “It’s so much easier to sit home and not exercise and criticize other people. What I love is inspiring people. People come up to me and say, ‘I want to have two kids and wear a bathing suit and not feel terrible about myself. I see how hard you work and it makes me feel like I can do that too.’”
Who in the hell are these terrible people going up to Fishy and saying that bullshit?! Tell them the concierge from their Paris hotel recommends a wonderful restaurant with organic wine and complimentary bikini waxes. It's called Le Go Jump Off A Fucking Cliff. Moving on...
Did you know Fishy is the funniest person in the world? I have to agree with her. Fishy proved it by comparing Chris Martin to Picasso.
On showing the world a different side of herself: “If you speak to my friends who’ve known me since I was four, they’ll say, ‘That is her.’ They always said to me, ‘You’re the dirtiest person in the world and so funny. Show the world that side of you.’ I felt guarded. I felt like if I really showed people more of me and I was still not accepted, then…Who cares. You just realize it doesn’t matter what people think of you.”
On choosing not to go to her husband, Coldplay’s Chris Martin for advice on music: “[He’s] a musical genius. It’s like living with Picasso, and being like, ‘Should I make a little something-something?’”
On keeping her marriage out of the spotlight: “He makes music for his fans, and he doesn’t want people to conjure a lame famous couple when they’re getting into his music. I get it.”
And now can you ask our concierge where there's a good place to take a nap, because reading a Fishsticks interview always makes me feel like I just got a Brazilian wax on my brain.