You Fancy

Goop's Fashion Picks for Spring is so damn popular and she get so many requests for it that she has brought it back for a third year in a row. 99% of those emails are probably from people telling her to please bring it back up, because it makes them laugh so damn hard that they make a wet spot in their $2 cotton panties from KMart. If you're Elin Nordegren, all you have to do is shake the change of your purse and you can buy everything on Goopy Paltrow's fashion list for spring. If you're everybody else, all you have to do is sell your house, sell your car, sell every drop of blood in your body, empty out your checking account, rob a bank and blow Charlie Sheen a few times, and you too can buy a bunch of designer clothes you can't wear anywhere without looking a fool.

In this week's edition of Goop, Goopy showed her readers how they can update their spring wardrobe using stuff they can buy from Net-A-Porter. E! totaled everything up on her list and it came to only $458,003! On the list is a $5,495 Valentino bag, $850 Alexander Wang leather shorts (which will make you look like you have a wang) and an $895 Victoria Beckham dress. The $475 fancy shorts in the picture above are perfect to wear during a lunch date with your husband. When he doesn't show up, the shininess of the shorts will make you forget that your husband hates you, because you're ridiculous and is probably in a cheap motel room shoving his face in a pile of Twinkies just to spite you.

My favorite thing on the list is a $1,615 skirt, which Goopy says is a wonderful thing to wear during a night in with your friends. Yes, a $1,600 ball gown skirt is the perfect thing to wear while hanging out with your friends at home. Oh, you'll feel so comfortable wearing a $1,600 skirt while lounging on your red panda leather sofa. When your friend Bunny accidentally spills a glass of vintage Krug (it's a casual night-in, you save the good stuff for formal events) on your $1,600 skirt after you tell a joke about how you saw Muffy carrying a COACH purse into the tennis club, you don't have to freak out. It's just a casual $1,600 skirt. You'll just tell your maid to cut it into squares to use as wee wee pads for the Burmese ponies you bought for little Pomegranate and Jeduthun.

I really hope Goop stays so unaware and never pulls her head out of her ass, because all of this is gold. Oh wait, I don't mean gold. Gold is for the poors!

Well, look who's dropping a deuce new cook book on April 2nd! It should be on April 1st since you would have to be an April Fool to buy this shit. It's Goopy McPoopy, aka Gwyneth Paltrow, once again hammering us commoners in the head with the fact that we'll never be as good, beautiful, or fabulous as she is. In her new book called It's All Good, or formally It's All Good: Delicious, Easy Recipes That Will Make You Look Good and Feel Great (but not as great as me, ever, fucking plebes), Gwyneth condescends to give her recipes for things like Hummus Tartine with Scallion-Mint Pesto, Salmon Burgers with Pickled Ginger, and Freshly Clubbed Antarctic Baby Seal with Roasted Organic White Truffle and Crushed Blood Diamond Sauce. Maybe I made that last one up.

None of that shit sounds easy to me, so this has me thinking that I should come out with my own cookbook. Something like A Lazy Hor's Guide To The Kitchen, featuring recipes for Beefaroni, Hamburger Helper, Easy Mac, Microwave TV Dinners and Pizza Hut. Step 1: open can. Step 2: heat and eat! Bonus: my recipes won't leave you terrified to step away from the toilet for hours on end (in fact they often have the opposite effect), and even my broke ass can afford it. You're welcome!

You can read more about her book on Amazon and how these recipes are a product of some sadistic ass doctor's recommendation that she go on an elimination diet featuring no coffee, no alcohol, no sugar...okay, just stop right there. I thought this food was supposed to make me feel GOOD, not depressed.

I know, I should double slap myself in the face for asking a question that even hos not named Al Pacino clearly knows the answer to. But RiRi tried. RiRi said at the Grammys last week that she recently decided to follow the "If Elvira Hancock wouldn't wear it, neither am I" rules of glamour and she made that shit perfectly clear at Stella McCartney's shown London last night. Look at RiRi sexy posing hard like she's in the line-up at a Bangkok whore house and she's one beej away from meeting her quota for the month.

While I appreciate that RiRi is giving me "if Tina Turner was in Scarface" vibes, I just can't with her trying to recreate the trophy piece perfection of Michelle Pfeiffer. I mean, I'd like to see RiRi try to bust out "sedated chicken airing out its pits" moves in that dress:

RiRi needs to leave dressing like a 1980s expensive Miami coke whore to the professionals.

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!

If you're like me and you've got time and no more brain cells to kill, moan through the commercial and watch this mess of a video from UsWeekly of Ashton Kutcher's one-night lady love Sara Leal talking about the special night when the cherubs cooed, roses blew out the sweet scent of love and Demi Moore's husband stuck his unwrapped douche stick into her poon. Sara says the same crap she said in the print interview but this time she says it to the camera and the effect is something special. The soft lighting that makes her look like an innocent sweet demure angel, the rented house, the casual pose on a grassy knoll like she's starring in an ad campaign for Coldwater Creek.... It all works for me.

I mean, this bareback bitch is going on about how she would've never screwed on Ashton if she knew he was still Demi and they scatter in shots of her awkwardly smiling and giving us bland come hither looks under a tree while she keeps her legs closed FOR ONCE! If this whole "fucking married celebrity men for a tabloid check" thing doesn't work for her, she has an amazing career ahead of her in karaoke video modeling. She look so damn bored. I guess they told her to recreate the emotions she felt when Ashton raw dog dicked her.

This almost looks like an infomercial for a new product called Slutvitra. You know, it's for the douchebag celebrity husband who is too full of chicken shit to dump his wife himself. So he takes some Slutvitra and before you know it's there a 4-page scandalous expose in a tabloid magazine and the deed is done for him. He gets the free publicity and now everyone will really think he's the new Charlie Sheen (he's not).

There's a good reason for why Tommy Cruise has that beauty shop glow about him like he just hopped off of two booster seats on a hairdresser's chair and sucked in attention from old ladies who gave him lollipops while telling him what a handsome mister man he is, because that's what just happened!

The bad news that made Tommy Girl's Scientolohole frown is that he had to cut the luscious locks that even took the breath away from Helene Curtis herself. Every time Tommy swept into the door of the Scientology sauna, the boys always hummed out the Salon Selectives song. That's not going to happen anymore. But the good news is that Tommy now looks like k.d. lang in her Vanity Fair cover days and that's an upgrade!

Tommy worked his butch bitch haircut in NYC yesterday and Pittsburgh today while getting ready to shoot the movie One Shot. Tommy is going to play the character of Jack Reacher who in the book is a 6'5" 250lb blond policeman. HA. Tommy is supposed to be taller and they cut that tiny bitch's hair? They should've given him a bouffant beehive instead. The only way Tommy can look 6'5" is if the other cast members are made up of the living members of the Lollipop Guild, the Little Chocolatiers, Matt Roloff, Ryan Gaycrest, Snooki, the Monopoly Scottie Dog, hamsters in bonnets and the Baby Jesuses from Modern Family. Even then, Tommy would have to stand on his tippity tip tip toes on an apple box and they'd have to stretch him in post-production Paula Abdul-style.