It's a good thing Gwyneth Paltrow had on her favorite pair of $400 "working mother" panties made from the cocoons of organic mulberry silkworms, or else we'd all get a clear shot of her apple maker. Then Fishsticks would have to write a detailed piece in GOOP on how she keeps it shiny and fit. You know, she'd go on about how she gives it a spoon of flax seed oil every morning, reads it French poetry before bedtime and does at least 3 hours of the Kegel portion of The Tracy Anderson Method every single day. Fishy's chocha will always be better than your chocha and we don't need to see the reasons why in writing. And speaking of...
The NYDN talked to Abbe Diaz, a former Manhattan maitre d' who is shopping a tell-all book around. Abbe has served Fishy at least 6 times in a 4-year period and pretty much calls her a snobby lady of refinement who won't even spit at you unless you've been moisturizing your skin with Creme de la Mer nightly. Fishy cares about her saliva too much to subject it to anything less.
Diaz says the actress has a "passive-aggressive comportment … meant to unnerve the plebeians."
"If you're not worthy, it's like you're not there," the author tells us, although she adds, Paltrow "likes boys" - servers, that is - "as long as they're cute and sweet."
Yup. That's the bitch we all know and love to write long hateful blog posts about!
Don't you constantly ask yourself every single day how esteemed actress/lifestyle deity/country music superstar/perfect mother/10-star gourmet chef/fashion icon/insufferable cunt snob Gwyneth Paltrow does it? Fishsticks somehow manages to successfully conquer a morning filled with: getting Nectarine and Torah to school, feeding her soul to the serpent beast that is Tracy Anderson, picking out the perfect $200 tea towels to go in the service kitchen, yelling at the east wing maid for starching the robe given to her by the Dalai Lama, recording a country song that will debut at #1 as soon as she puts her breath on the mic and writing a soon-to-be award-winning piece for GOOP. And she does all of this while her head is shoved up her ass! Clap. Clap. Clap.
I thought my mornings were hectic and all I have to do is Fabreze the pee spot I left on my bed and wipe the dried-up tears off my face with a Clorox Wipe.
In this week's edition of Perfect Rich White Woman Weekly, Fishsticks and two of her friends (Juliet de Baubigny and Stella McCartney) document a day in the life of a working mother. Yup, THIS BITCH just doesn't know. You can read the entire mess over at GOOP, but here's a few dingles. Read it while farting out the chorus to "I'm Every Woman."
Got Apple all fed and dressed in her uniform and ready to go but no sign nor sight of Moses at 8 am and we have to be out of the house by 8:20. I went up to arouse the little man from slumber and he quite happily got up and crawled into my arms. We got downstairs and I made him a quick breakfast of eggs and toast followed by a spoonful of lemon flavored flax oil that I try to remember to give them both every morning.
When all was well I dodged off as fast as possible but was still late to the 9 am workout. Did dance aerobics for 45 minutes then all of the butt lifts and the like. Rushed upstairs to have a shower, doing my post workout stretch while the conditioner was doing its magic on my hair to combine activities/save time.
Got home and had a fitting with super stylist Elizabeth Saltzman for the upcoming Nashville trip (what to wear, what to wear?) from 1-2. This is my 4th out of 5 fittings for this trip. We tried on a myriad of dresses and outfits, and I had b.o. by the end of it from wrestling with all of those dresses.
At 4pm, my weekly owners' and managers' call takes place for the Tracy Anderson Method with our brilliant CEO Stephanie Stahl taking the lead. I basically listen and try to learn. Kiddies burst through the door and play in my office while I finish up, just drawing and hanging out and of course playing Plants vs Zombies on the iPad, their obsession that I have to limit like crazy! What up, gamers. Then downstairs to make cupcakes for tomorrow’s bake sale. It is ‘Bonfire night’ in the UK tomorrow and the bake sale is to celebrate and to raise money for charity. We decide on vanilla cupcakes with pink icing and green icing (from Tate’s Bakeshop cookbook with the icing from American Desserts cookbook).
The kids indulge in a super sugary cupcake before bed but I don’t feel too bad because they had a brown rice stir fry for dinner with baked sweet potato on the side. It’s all about balance! My night to lay with Mosey so I tuck Apple in, say a prayer and go into Mosey's room for a story, foot massage and quiet time. As soon as all was quiet, I rushed downstairs to grab a blazer and some blush and flung myself in the car for girls night.
Fishy also lists a few tips for saving time which include:
1. Schedule your time well. When I know what I am doing from hour to hour I get more done. Write it all in the day’s calendar, what you want to accomplish and in what time frame.
3. I cook a lot, especially on the weekends, so I like to plan a rough menu for the whole weekend and get the food in on Friday. Obviously stores and websites that deliver make this a dream. In London I use Ocado. Also James Knight, my favorite fishmonger, will deliver. Having all of the ingredients means I'm prepared even when I don't think I am.
4. I always lay the kids uniforms and school things out the night before once they are asleep. When it’s quiet I can check the "kid list" for show and tell items to bring in, consent forms, ballet kit, etc, so that the morning is less of a scramble.
But Fishy missed a very important tip: Make sure you come flying out of a wealthy lady's vagina at birth (or marry a millionaire), so that later on in life you can hire a team of nannies to take care of your kids while you write ALL THESE FUCKING LISTS OUT.
And it's a real shame that working mothers can't read Fishy's pearls of wisdom since they are too busy working a fucking second job to put generic peanut butter on the table.
Because the media has to find a celebrity connection with every single real news story that happens in the U.S., Mary Hart's interns topped searching Ancestry.com to see if she is indeed the secret love child of Rosie the Robot and a Howdy Doody wax figure (SPOILER ALERT: she is), and instead focused their energy on trying to pull a famous name out of the Tucson shooting. They have succeeded, because Entertainment Tonight brings us the highly important news that Gwyneth Paltrow is related to congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords. Fishsticks' late father was the first cousin of Gabrielle Gifford's father, thus making them second cousins. ET asked Fishsticks to comment on the tragedy and she did:
"Although I have never had the pleasure of meeting congresswoman Giffords, my thoughts and prayers are with her and her family as well as the other victims of this horrible act of senseless violence."
UsWeekly says that Sophia Bush, that girl from Zero Stump Molehill, also Tweeted that she's the second cousin of the young girl who was killed in the shooting.
Aaaaand now you know.
Okay, okay, I'm the terrible one (carve that into my tombstone with Catherine Trammell's ice pick), because I took a quote from a highly personal Gwyneth Paltrow interview and twisted it around before shoving it back into her mouth. But it was so easy. The English language was created just so Fishsticks could utter the words "I'm terrible" and the ingredients were all there so I just had to. So what Fishy really told Good Housekeeping (via People) is that soon after her son Moses swam out of the egg she laid, she suffered a case of the postpartum blues and felt like a terrible person because of it.
Specifically, Fishy said she felt like a zombie. And not like one of those trashy American zombies from Dawn of the Dead. No, Fishy felt more like a refined BRITISH zombie who cares about their diet. Instead of mumbling out rude moans like "OOOOAAARRGGHH!!", they charmingly coo out something like, "CHEERIOOOOOAAARRGGHH!!" And they politely ask you if you're preservative-free before they sprinkle flax seeds on your brains and have one their servants neatly slice it into pieces so it goes down easy. Anyway, this is how Fishy explains it:
"I felt like a zombie. I couldn't access my heart. I couldn't access my emotions. I couldn't connect. It was terrible, it was the exact opposite of what had happened when Apple was born. With her, I was on cloud nine. I couldn't believe it wasn't the same. I just thought it meant I was a terrible mother and a terrible person.
About four months into it, Chris came to me and said, 'Something's wrong. Something's wrong.' I kept saying, 'No, no, I'm fine.' But Chris identified it, and that sort of burst the bubble. I thought postpartum depression meant you were sobbing every single day and incapable of looking after a child. But there are different shades of it and depths of it, which is why I think it's so important for women to talk about it. It was a trying time. I felt like a failure."
The baby sads is a real thing and no laughing matter, but I sort of know how Fishy felt. Whenever I cradle a Paltrow article with my eyes and stare deep into it, I immediately need to put it back in its crib and run to the garage to smoke a cigarette in the family car. Well, since I don't have a garage, I have to go into the bathroom, stuff a towel in the door crack and crawl into the tub for a nerve-numbing smoke.
And here's something Paltrow-related that definitely won't make you depressed:
Did I say "won't" make you depressed, I meant "WILL." So yeah, I'll meet you in the tub. Bring your own fucking light.
I'm not sure what thang Fishy's hollerin' about, but here she is shaking it in a clip from Country Strong that you can use as an excuse when the bartender at the Howard Johnson bar tries to cut you off later on tonight. " "But I just watched Gwyneth Paltrow shake that thing."Take the whole bottle." You know, even though Fishy dances like a lame funky chicken with a broken neck, it's not THAT terrible. Okay, it's that terrible. And since we're already nibbling on the terrible shit Fishy's serving up, here's a quote from her upcoming cookbook:
"I can still hear [my father] over my shoulder, heckling me, telling me to be careful with my knife, moaning with pleasure over a bite of something in the way only a Jew from Long Island can, his shoulders doing most of the talking."
How do you flip someone off with your shoulders, because mine are trying to do that. And we might as well go FULL TERRIBLE. Here's another quote.
"When I was growing up, the tomato soup I had was Campbell's, and how I love it to this day.
"This is how my mother and I remember it, anyway. Bizarrely, my father and brother always fought us on the validity of this story, as if one would hide serving canned soup for dinner ... anyway, I boringly digress."
And that just makes me want to bang my head against a Campbell's soup can until one of us is bleeding.
via Eater (Thanks Meredith)
NOOOOOOOO! I was perfectly happy hating every single thing Fishsticks Paltrow produced and then she just had to go and wear this to the Cuntry Weak screening in Beverly Hills last night. It's as if Fishy grabbed onto my world, turned it upside/down and burped out everything I thought I believed in! And all because she wore an exquisite gown that says "member of Kryptonian Council" in the front and then softly leads you down a netted road of elegance to the image of Fishy's uncovered crotch gills dancing in the underwind. It's something Breathless Mahoney would've worn on her wedding day and it's beautifully perfect.
That gown's powers of sophistication and grace are so strong that I don't even care that it's on the body of a pretentious salamander-woman who always calls English muffins "crumpets" and who won't get out of bed until her morning maid slips a pair of fresh cashmere slippers at her bedside. WHY OH WHY!
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go and dip my head in a browser full of GOOP in hopes that I can go back to hating her ass once I come up for air.
Here's a few more of Fishy wearing the third coming of the Slut Dress at the Country Strong screening last night with Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, Blair Waldorf Salad and Garrett Gimmehedlund.
Today in Hollywood, Fishsticks Paltrow got her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, an honor that only goes to those important individuals with at least 1 IMDB credit and a valid cashiers check for $25,000, and there was something backwards going on with her face. Either next week's issue of GOOP is going to be all about how you too can make your face look as frozen as the inside of the Metrodome with the help of distilled organic hummingbird saliva, or this is what it looks like when the sun directly shines down on the face of a zombie. Or maybe Fishy's face turned to iced wax when she internally cringed at having to actually get that close to the sidewalk without a white glove on. The things a bitch will do to push a movie!
Here's more of Fishy with her Country Strong co-star Tim McGraw, his wife Faith Hill and Matthew Morrison working their shit on the streets of Hollywood today.
White Oprah must need some quick cash to buy the ingredients to make Vicodin nog, Adderall bark and mashed coke for Christmas dinner, because she's once again vomiting out massive amounts of delusions over Glee making fun of her precious innocent child. Delusion's answer to Mama Rose tells Radar that Lindsay Lohan was hurt in the heart when she watched Fishsticks Paltrow's character call her "crazy" on Glee. LiLo thought they were friends! Will somebody please tell LiLo that just because one of her shroom hallucinations involved bathing in a tub full of bubbly GOOP with Fishsticks doesn't mean they are friends in real-life.
Shortly after White Oprah pulled her head out of her own ass and picked the poop noodle off her tongue, she said this to Radar: "Lindsay is so upset with Gwyneth. Lindsay was watching it while in Betty Ford, then she called me and was upset and said, 'Why did she have to do that? We are the first to make fun of ourselves in our family. And Lindsay has even done SNL a few times, but Gwyneth went overboard and it was unnecessary. Lindsay thought she was a friend and it was disappointing. It was really hard for her to watch... it was hurtful not funny."
When is White Oprah going to deep throat a tube of STFU already? This dumb bitch isn't even directing her hate at the right trick. Fishy didn't write those words! White Oprah needs to throw shit at the writers. And when she's done with that, she needs to go after Microsoft Word, the laptop used to type the script, the printer used to print the script out, the Xerox machine used to print copies of the script and the ink which was used to bring those words to life on paper. Sue those bitches for aiding and abetting!
Ugh. White Oprah can't even do delusional right.
When Lindsay Lohan's name did the flamenco off of Fishsticks Paltrow's tongue on last night's episode of Glee, I just knew that at a sports bar on Long Island somewhere LiLo's mother White Oprah just fell off her pleather burgundy stool. And not because her 4th Jägerbomb screwed with her balance like a sock on a cat's waist. It's because she was leaning over to pull out her phone in her purse to call her LAWYAHS! If you were thinking the same thing, we were all right! Glee better watch it, because the train of delusional has pulled into their station.
In the episode, Fishy played a substitute Spanish teacher who used the trial and tribulations of the mess that is Lindsay Lohan in her lesson. Fishy asked questions in Spanish like “Lindsey Lohan is totally crazy, right?” and “How many times has Lindsay Lohan been to rehab?” Questions that pinche puta loca White Oprah doesn't know the answer to in ANY language.
White Oprah thinks it's shameless and tasteless that Glee mocked her poor child's situation. You know what isn't shameless and tasteless? White Oprah going on the Today show to run her gross talk hole about her poor child's situation. No, that shit isn't shameless and tasteless at all. NEVAH.
White Oprah tells Gossip Cop that her lawyers “are sending a letter to Glee on the grounds that the show allegedly defamed" her daughter. LiLo's spokeswhore added, “Lindsay has an issue that millions of people around the world are dealing with yet ‘Glee’ is treating addiction as a laughing matter.” You know what isn't treating addiction as a laughing matter? Going on the VMAs and making fun of your own addictions. No, that shit isn't treating addiction as a laughing matter. NEVAH.
But seriously, Glee better just send everyone home, because White Oprah has this. It worked with E-Trade. When she's done the writers won't even have a pen or paper to write the scripts on, Sue Sylvester won't have a red tracksuit to put on and Fishsticks will have to downgrade from a 50-room English manor to her mother's basement apartment. Or Glee can settle with White Oprah by giving her a role as a woman whose mouth somehow gets stuck to Mr. Schue's left nipple for the rest of the season. Glee should take the deal.
GOOPY Paltrow has about as much soul as a wet Land's End catalog, which is why she was the (put a pair of sarcasm lenses over your eyeballs) perfect choice to sing a scrubbed down version of Cee-Lo's Fuck You on next week's episode of Glee. If someone ever wanted to make a case to the courts to ban music, dancing and singing forever, they could use this as evidence. When Fishsticks does The Robot, Suri Cruise's joints lock up and Stepford Katie has to give her a WD-40 bath. When Fishsticks whips her hair, a hundred follicles fall out of Willow Smith's head. THINK OF SURI AND WILLOW!
Guidance counselors and principals should take note, because this definitely falls under teacher-to-student harassment in the first degree.
Oh, and Just Jared has the audio of Glee's mash-up of Umbrella and Singing in the Raining featuring Fishy and the spirit of Satan. Update your WAV files, because this is the new train wreck sound effect.