A Stick Makes Stone Soup

Oh, Gwyneth.

Really?

I promised myself I would ignore you.

I told myself not to be sucked in.

I reminded myself that you aren't worth the effort.

And yet here I am, sucked in again.  Drawn into the morass that is your "cookbook".

"Hahaha! What am I doing with this spoon? What's this goop on it? It's not GOOP. I want no part of it."

Jesus.

Just fucking stop.

Seriously, Gwyneth.  Just. Stop.

You're trying too hard.

Now, if you wanted to write a book about pretentious, over-privileged hack "actors", I could see why you'd be the perfect choice. 

Hmm . . . this smells like my elbow cream.  What am I supposed to be pretending again? Oh, that's right. I'm a cook.

But this?  A book about food? From you?  Have you seen you?  You are not someone who looks like they enjoy food.  You look like someone who has heard of food, but wants no part of it.

Water is delicious AND satisfying.  Full of watery goodness!

And I would have thought that you'd not be such a douche about name dropping.  But you are.  You're the Summer's Eve of name dropping.  Well done.

People are trying to maneuver you as the Next Martha Stewart.  It's not going to happen.  You know why?  Because as autocratic and snobby as Martha is, she OWNS it.  She's not trying to be "relatable", she's not pretending that her lifestyle is the same as every other busy working mom's. 

Also? She'll cut a bitch.

She is GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING MARTHA STEWART, bitches.  She is not to be trifled with.

Oh no, no, no.  I don't think so. 

You?  You're . . . sad.  You're the cheerleader who decided she was "artsy" and started trying to hang out with the kids who don't give a fuck and all that happens is you end up wrong-footing it every. step. of. the. way.  You don't bring Veuve Clicquot to a beer bash, sweetie.  But if you do, don't pretend that it's the same as Natural Light.

Not budget beer. Not by a long shot.

You're trying to be "real" and you're just making everyone uncomfortable.  We don't want to hate you, Gwyneth. I mean, I DO hate you, and sometimes I kind of enjoy it, but it's just too much effort.  We don't really want to think about you.  Stop inserting yourself so desperately where you don't belong.

Now, go back to your country music "career" and eat your macrobiotic diet and enjoy hunting humans on your estate.  We wish you - well, not the best.  We just wish you somewhere else.

XO,

Suniverse