GOOPY On Her Lipstick Lesbian Daughter And The Boyfriend Who Cheated On Her Ass
The pictures of GOOPY Paltrow in Harper’s Bazaar will cover your eyes with the organic grease that’s smeared all over her legs, but don’t worry you’ll wipe those away as soon as your eyes start rotating at all the colon balls of pretension that come leaping, twirling and floating off of her tongue. You know, though, this interview isn’t as ridiculous as the usual shit that comes spewing out of her talk hole. The worst part doesn’t come from the mouth of GOOP, it comes from Harper’s writer Justine Picardie. Justine drank the GOOP and kept drinking the GOOP until the GOOP started spilling out of the pores on her fingers. I mean….:
We’ve grown accustomed to the symmetry of her face and her killer body displayed on the red carpet since her catapult to fame in the ’90s. But when you see her today, without the distractions of props or makeup or styling, in jeans and a white button-down shirt, Gwyneth’s calm beauty is striking, as is her extraordinary discipline. As she falls naturally into yoga stretches during the course of the conversation, supple as a cat, you realize that this is a woman for whom working out has become essential.
And excuse me as my mouth naturally falls onto my erect finger so I can wet heave and jerk my head until my brain has erased that paragraph from my memory. I bet GOOPY totally served Justine a pizza from her wood-burning garden pizza oven. All of the powers of GOOP lie within that wood-burning garden pizza oven. Or the porcelain bathtub in her bedroom. Those are the weapons of GOOP’s mass pretentious. Now on to quotes!
On how she loves the wrinkles that were majorly Photoshopped off in these pictures: “I’ll take my wrinkles. I don’t like the Botox thing.”
She goes on to admit that she gets tons of facials and has done laser treatments. I believe her. Like this bitch is really going to fill her face with some shit any poor can buy with a credit card. Botox is so provincial. If Fishsticks wants to get rid of a wrinkle, she just recites Justine’s paragraph above into the mirror and her face will naturally barf out globs of fat that will fill her lines. Voila!
On how she goes on a 12-week detox every season: “I have a lot of inflammation in my system, so I’m not having anything I’m allergic to—no gluten, no dairy, no sugar. I’ll wake up exhausted; I can feel my adrenal cortex being really high. When I get into bed, my heart will pound, my skin won’t be good, I’ll feel cranky, and then I’ll just know it’s time.”
So if this bitch detoxes for 48 weeks out of the year, that means most of the year she spends starving herself and shitting her asshole off. This explains everything. If you only ate grass sweat and laxatives camouflaged as organic vitamins, any sense of reality you had would come shooting out of your b-hole.
On how her father’s death SAVED her life: “All I’ve learned about nutrition and health came from his cancer. I’ll probably have a long and healthy life because he didn’t.”
On how she thought Apple was going to be a junior butch lez: “I’ve been saving my clothes for her since before she was born. I was like, I’ll bet you anything I’ll have a daughter, and she’ll be a really cool butch lesbian and be so above clothes, and I got a very clothes-obsessed child. So if she’s a lesbian, she’s a lipstick lesbian. She doesn’t like anything avant-garde at all. She likes anything that’s pretty, pretty, pretty or has a bow or a ruffle or is pink.”
On her anti-feminist advice to her really famous friend (like she has any other kind): “She is an actress and in a new relationship with someone else with a big career, and I said this may not be feminist, but you have to compromise. It’s been all about you and you’re a big deal. And if you want what you’re saying you want—a family—you have to be a wife, and that is part of the equation. Gloria Steinem may string me up by my toes, but all I can do is my best, and I can do only what works for me and my family.”
On how her husband Chris Martin doesn’t pass his peen around, but one of her ex-boyfriends did: “I had a boyfriend who used to cheat on me all the time. I was quite naive. I knew on a cellular level, but I bought his story.”
The cheating boyfriend is totally Brad Pitt (or Ben Affleck). The actress friend is totally Cameron Diaz (exhibit: A!). And I’m totally going to juice a box of Twinkies and eat a bowl of corn syrup sprinkled with powdered preservatives until my heart is pounding, my skin hurts and cranky is the only emotion I feel. Because if that’s this twat’s idea of being wrong, then I don’t ever want to be right!