Contrary to the headline, Gwyneth Paltrow really hasn’t said anything too “silly” about her divorce, but many do seem offended by her seemingly stuck-up refusal to actually call it a “divorce” in her original and follow-up statements.
In the first, she left a bad taste in the mouths [of people who probably already hated her] by using the term “conscious uncoupling” to describe her separation from longtime douchehub Chris Martin.
Recently, Paltrow published a recipe brutal guide to cutting off a chicken’s legs and head with a little “P.S.” message attached. “CM and I in deep gratitude for the support of so many,” she wrote.
And again, people called her an asshole, I guess for using his initials as if she’s everyone’s down-to-earth friend? Well, fuck you all. I wouldn’t mind being Gwyneth Paltrow’s friend one bit…
I’m not ashamed to admit that I’d let her buy me cardigans and brush my hair while watching Dynasty over a glass of chardonnay, or that I’d knock on her door disguised as Madonna and Oprah on days she was feeling sad, and neither should you.
Now she can sit around gulping down mega-wiffs of her own farts (which undoubtedly smell like Himalayan lemon seed oil) ((the real stuff, not that hack shit they sell at Dollar Barn)) in peace.
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Seriously, you should guest write for The Twist. Himalayan lemon seed oil farts? Classic.
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Her only movie is iron man otherwise who is she?
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