GOOPy thinks they’re cheesy

Lainey Posted by Lainey at February 11, 2009 13:17:43 February 11, 2009 13:17:43

You might hate her, but can you disagree?

Gwyneth Paltrow said recently that running carpet after carpet with your husband is “cheesy” and “I mean, who wants to live like that?”

Cut to Demi Moore and Ashton Kutcher tonight at the Berlin Film Festival for the premiere of her film Happy Tears. As you can see, they’re happily promoting her film, giving photographers the best possible shots to sell. And of course there’s Ashton, documenting the experience on his blackberry to Twitter about later, accusing the press of forcing them to pose…or something. Such an insufferable twat.

Interesting though that Gwynnie used the word “cheesy” to characterise the marital sales pitch. All her friends do it, each and every one. Madonna too. Madonna a lot. So is Madonna cheesy? You think G tells Madge she’s cheesy? Would Madge tell her to f-ck right off?

Probably not. Because as we know, as she’s demonstrated over the years, Madonna is strong but not, and with the exception of Alex Rodriguez ‘roid monkey, she likes domineering men. I wonder then if Gwyneth is her domineering friend. The one who tells her, very politely over tea, that she’s too short and fat and should work out harder. Because if there was anyone who’d be perfect for that role, it’s totally Gwyneth Paltrow.

Back to her Kabbalist friends Demi and Ashton… her face… it’s wonderful. It’s amazing. An enticing advocate for plastic surgery, I guess, but for the fact that you can, like, DIE from it.

I am a vain bitch. But I’m more cowardly than vain. A total chicken sh-t. When I had my surgery last summer after Mischa Barton broke my elbow they had to hit me up with 2 rounds of valium beforehand to chill me out because I literally thought I was going to die from general anesthesia. Was freaking out so much that the surgeon looked like he wanted to slap me. Even the night before, when they administered some laughing gas just to set my arm in a temporary cast, I hallucinated that it was over. My life. Gone. It was the worst and longest five minutes. One scene kept replaying in my mind: from my final blink, the last image I saw before the laughing gas took me under, a glimpse of the nurse’s collar, over and over and over again that collar, replaying in my head, and I thought it would replay in my head like that for eternity. And it felt like an eternity, an endless half second loop, her collar, my eyes closing, her collar, my eyes closing, her collar, my eyes closing…

When I came out of it, I felt born again. A temporary evangelist. I remember Laura and Dylan looking at each other like what the f-ck at my babbling: I’m alive! Make the most out of life! Out of life! Laura, I’ll do anything! Life is beautiful!

Needless to say, that didn’t last. But the point is, it’s not the principle of plastic surgery I’m opposed to. It’s the prospect of DYING. Even if the chances are one in a million. Laser eye procedures – same thing. I’d be the one person to go blind. I know it.

Sorry to digress.

New poll question: who bought the best face? Check it.

Photos from

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