We at COWA don't always have time to pen our brilliant posts, and frequently outsource to an ever-growing pool of talent (Aunt Betsy, Jeannie Bladdersham, Foxy Brown and Sailor-Talkin Sue). And now, we are proud to add the lovely Ms. Gwyneth Paltrow (actress, fashionista, uppity shiksa) to their illustrious ranks. Her lifestyle website GOOP has been dazzling the blogosphere with its unique brand of snotty condescension for months now, and lucky us, Ms. Paltrow has graciously agreed to spread her goop all over us. Take it away, Gwynnie!
Thanks, WAM. You know, when I'm not dashing off to do Pilates with Madonna or plucking Apple up from celebrity gymboree, I like to surround myself with gorgeous things and think about people who are less fortunate. Not a day goes by when I don't stumble across the same icky homeless lady passed out in a puddle of her own filth in front of my fabulous London townhome. And she's really gross.
But when you think about it, the homeless are kind of like people. They say "ouch" when you kick them and cry when you have your personal assistant turn the hose on them. And anyone who knows me knows I'm nothing if not a people person. I like people. I just prefer people who aren't so gross.
The other day, while enjoying a kelp scrub at spa with Vicky Becks, I had a totally great idea! How cool would it be if we made homeless people less gross and stuff? Today's guest column is about how to de-grossify that derelict whose misfortunes rudely cramp your style by disrupting the stream of vapid happy thoughts you were thinking.
- Urine is a natural anti-biotic: My personal homeless person (I call her Shabby Shelly) has icky scabs on her thighs. So I frequently have Apple and Moses pee on her. She doesn't seem to mind and the kids enjoy doing it. It's important to teach our young proper respect for the less fortunate.
- Good clothes make all the difference: Shabby Shelly's look is overlayered and dated (grunge is SO 90's). So the other day when she was in a gin-soaked stupor, I had personal assistant strip her naked, burn her clothes and dress her up in some old cast-offs from my wardrobe. It did my heart good to watch her through my parlor blinds as she regained consciousness. She didn't know what to make of her ferragamo stilettos and sequined Alexander McQueen cocktail mini! She was a new woman. And although she seemed a tad chilly (London in mid-March can be brisk), every girl knows she has to put up with some discomfort when she's sprinting from the limo to the theatre on premier night!
- We are what we eat: So true! And with that in mind, Shabby Shelly's a discarded half-eaten Whopper with Cheese. I frequently have cook whip up a batch of tofu paste on a bed of organic sprouts and leave it on the curb next to her. So far, Shabby Shelly hasn't developed a taste for it; she keeps feeding it to the pet rat who lives in her vagina. Vegan microbiotic cuisine is an acquired taste, after all.
- Love makes the world go 'round: Who doesn't need a shoulder to cry on? At the end of the day, it's nice to come home to a significant other. I believe everyone has a soul-mate out there somewhere. Mine happens to be a dreamy blue-eyed millionaire musician. After searching for AGES I finally matched Shabby Shelly to her future life partner, a schizophrenic ex-con triple amputee midget alcoholic I found scooting about on a skateboard harrassing commuters in the tube. His name is Stumpy McGill and they're perfect together. So far, Shabby Shelly's wisely playing hard-to-get.
- Wait, what? I've ceased being interested in whatever I was talking about. I'm off to do lunch with Sting and Kate Moss. Be gorgeous!
Gwyneth sez: "I'd rather subscribe to this blog's feed than listen to my husbands crappy music"