According to numerous publicists posing as anonymous insiders for crappy gossip magazines, Gwyneth Paltrow’s marriage to Gay Beethoven was on the rocks for years. Apparently, she didn’t give a twang who he nailed on the side or the fact he never attended any of her fame whore sucking events, though she did frequently mock the food he ate and ridiculed he dressed. I understand why the Coldplay frontman wanted to anger management a couple babies into Gywneth Paltrow. There but for the grace of God go the rest of us who stupidly dream of taming the shrew. But why would he stick around for ten more years of Gywneth flashing by in designer fashions and ripping on him for eating non macrobiotic. I guess it’s the kids or the high cost of Conscious Uncoupling or just the fact that Gwyneth let him bang her doppelgänger Kate Bosworth and would even change the organic potpourri scents in the bedroom between her visits. Much of these new broken marriage revelations shed light on why Gwyneth panicked so hard when Vanity Fair set out to do an expose on her. That story she later squelched along with Graydon Carter’s sensitive sac between her tapioca encrusted tentacles. There’s got to be tons of shit there beyond just her banging Elle Macpherson’s current amateur helicopter piloting husband. Murder? Money laundering? Or just the hellish daily drip of sustained bitchery that lead men to pray for an early grave. I don’t envy the people tasked with digging into Gwyneth’s dirty laundry. Most will end up with weird skin blistering ailments like the men who went in search of Tutankhamun’s burial treasures. But somebody’s got to get to the bottom of the more malevolent shit. You don’t just defeat your enemies and call it a day. You need your Nuremberg hangings.
Remember the early days when Gwyneth and Chris were young and in love and almost making eye contact with one another without morbid frowns? Yeah, that pinnacle of raw romantic feeling is over now. Gwyneth Paltrow posted on GOOP with all the grace and elegance that only she could muster that love was ending between her and Coldplay frontman Chris Martin. She titled her post ‘Conscious Uncoupling’ just in case you momentarily forgot how much you hated her.
“It is with hearts full sadness that we have decided to separate. We have been working hard for well over a year, so of it together, some of it separate, to see what might have been possible between us, and we have come to the conclusion that while we love each other very much we will remain separate.”
I don’t speak much GOOP, but I take this to mean that Chris Martin is satisfied with what certainly will be his unsurpassed world record of being in the same room with Gwyneth Paltrow without punching her in the crustaceans, and Gwyneth will remain satisfied entirely with herself. It’s unclear if she’ll continue to call him a genius and a wonderful husband and if he’ll continue to hesitantly refer to her as a woman who isn’t the hellish succubus devil incarnate you all believe she is. Amicability terms to be worked out, I’m sure. Also murky is which nannies will retain primary custody of the children. Divorce really is like a little death, only, Gwyneth is still alive. So it’s not quite as good.
Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter is not a bad dude. But he is a huge pussy. Lots of guys fall into this category really, particularly high in our Canadian born brethren. There’s no shame in admitting you’ve been bested by Gwyneth Paltrow. She’s taken down many a man with tools ranging from her deep celebrity connections to her vagina which shoots skin-irritating microwave beams undetectable by the human eye. Last year Graydon Carter ordered one of his journalist deputies to dig into Gwyneth Paltrow’s life and figure out why half the world hated her and the other half loved her. Though that ratio assumption seems pretty generous. Word started leaking out that Vanity Fair’s story was going to be a brutal piece on Gwyneth that included her cheating on Gay Beethoven with the real estate mogul and crappy helicopter pilot billionaire now married to Elle Macpherson. Gwyneth and her team of committed Vestal Virgins started a damage control campaign that included emailing all her powerful Hollywood friends and telling them to boycott all things Vanity Fair. From there, I think she purchased most of Graydon Carter’s old neighborhood in Toronto and threatened to turn it into a monument dedicated to the perfect summer salad. Gwyneth plays for keeps.
To date, the story has never been published. In the latest edition of Vanity Fair, Graydon Carter says even though the Paltrow story was completed five months ago, he never published it because there was too much hubbub in the media about what it contained. He wants to sit on it for awhile. Naturally, you don’t want to release a story when everybody is dying to read it. You want to wait until it’s old and stale and nobody cares. That’s how you sell copies. Nowhere in his explanatory letter does he mention shitting bricks in his sleep because of Gwyneth coming to him in his REM sleep nightmares and smothering him with that microwave ray vagina. So, he’s not really telling the whole truth. Could you at least tell us if Gwyneth talked shit about Coldplay when she was fucking that billionaire?
Here’s photo of Gwyneth Paltrow being given an award in Germany the other night. Even Germans are scared of Gwyneth Paltrow, so they made up something phony to give her so she’d leave them alone to eat their sausage and secretly plot their next Reich.
Photo Credit: FameFlynet, WENN
Gwyneth Paltrow has had a lot of negative press in the last year mostly about what an obnoxious rag she is. But that shit don’t faze this sack of useless celebrity crap:
“This is the thing, it’s like the older I get, I realize it doesn’t matter what people who don’t know you think. It doesn’t matter. You’re wasting your energy. It’s like, if your partner comes to you — or your best friend — and says, ‘Listen, I want to talk about something you did that hurt me, or I think you could improve,’ sit down and listen to what they have to say. But some friend of so-and-sos — it’s like, who gives a shit?”
Yes, who cares that people generally despise you? It’s not like you career and livelihood depend solely on whether or not the general population will fork over $14 to see your giant toe-like face on screen or some lovelorn lady in Indiana plunking down a hundred hard-earned bucks for your skincare treatment.. I guess once you’ve got enough money for life, you probably can remind yourself daily in the gilded mirror that everybody who criticizes you are clueless haters, while everybody who adores you is a thoughtful genius. All we can do now is wait for the day when your ‘partner’ asks you to improve on not walking in on him fucking the nanny because he can longer stand hearing your voice when he’s trying to cum. I’m going to guess you actually won’t listen to that.
Page Six is reporting that Vanity Fair is going to press with a story about Gwyneth Paltrow sharing her perfectly pale intimate areas with billionaire Jeff Soffer back in 2008. At the time, Soffer flew Gwyneth her out for a private viewing of his refurbished Fountainbleu hotel in Miami. Gwyneth’s husband, Gay Beethoven, did not make the trip and it’s even suggested he and Gwyneth were on the rocks at the time. News of Vanity Fair’s investigation would explain why Gwyneth sent a letter out to her very important friends this past May:
“Vanity Fair is threatening to put me on the cover of their magazine. If you are asked for quotes or comments, please decline. Also, I recommend you all never do this magazine again.”
Only a true celebrity would use expression ‘do a magazine’. Also, maybe a cheater. In a shocking move, Gwyneth’s reps denied the entire affair:
She has been friends for him [Jeff] for a long time. Chris [Martin] is friends with him as well. He flew down a dozen friends. There was no romantic relationship.
Yeah, because who would ever sleep with somebody their spouse knows well? Only ever celebrity ever. Arnold nailed the housekeeper. Woody Allen banged his adopted daughter, Simon Cowell just knocked up his friend’s wife. It’s not like these married celebrities can grab drinks at the Buffalo Wild Wings with an NSA date off Craigslist. They have to grab somebody in their private circle when they want something new and exciting penetrating their private circle.
I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed. In Gwyneth. I thought she was perfect. She’s not. She’s just like everybody else, or the slightly more perfect version of everybody else.
Gwyneth Paltrow reveals in a recent interview that her husband Gay Beethoven is pretty relaxed about her naked sex scenes. Probably mostly because she’s never actually naked and she’s not at all close to having sex. I mean at home. Onscreen she does get a bit more wild. That’s the difference between getting paid $2 million to take her bra off for Hugo Boss and facing an evening of boner-draining sadness from the frontman for Coldplay.
Photo Credit: AKM-GSI