The Problem With Gwyneth

Originally posted April 22, 2011

Hello, Hamsters (yep, I’m sticking with it),

Even I am wondering why it took me so long to get on the “Gwyneth Paltrow Annoys the Living Daylights out of Me” bandwagon. It’s not that I haven’t experienced the same thoughts of inferiority and shame at not being as blond, thin, beautiful and rich as she is—and likes to constantly remind us—it’s just that much in the same way that I feel like energy spent talking about Kardashians only exacerbates the problem, I also feel like acknowledging the Paltrow only feeds its already overinflated sense of self.

But who am I kidding? Whether or not I choose to ignore them, they are still out there self-promoting their way into famedom, and I might as well stop pretending I haven’t noticed.

So, just exactly what is it about Gwynnie that makes people press the imaginary “dislike” button every time she opens her trap? There are plenty of other celebs out there doing multilevel self-promotion, but maybe, just maybe, they aren’t doing it while constantly reminding you they truly believe they are better than you.

Allow me to elaborate, please. Ms. Paltrow became a recurring Glee guest star, and everyone was all, “Oh, hey, that wasn’t anywhere near as terrible as her glorified mommy blog, GOOP, would lead me to believe. I think I’ll give her a second chance.”

Then the Grammys rolled around, and she got that second chance, singing with the amazingly Muppet-dressed Cee Lo Green, and well, that didn’t exactly live up to her Glee performances, so people were a little less hot on her bandwagon.

Personally, I loved her Grammy outfit, from the low-cut black catsuit to the hot pink feather earrings to the multicolored shoes. I could barely focus on her bad singing, though, as I was certain she was going to fall off that piano because she is clearly not a talented high-heel walker, let alone high-heel dancer. I spent the whole time waiting for her to land in the oversize Muppet’s lap…which somehow miraculously did not happen.

On this week’s episode of Glee, Holly Holiday—played by old Gwynneroo—gave a pep talk to some hecklers, which was really a not so thinly veiled version of Gwyneth talking to the people who hate her in some meta-effort by the Glee writers to wink-wink show us all that they (and Paltrow) get that everyone hates her and, really, why wouldn’t we? She IS better than the rest of humankind, after all.

Holly Holiday tells the kids, “We live in a culture of insults. I mean, we’re constantly bombarded with these images of people who are richer than us and happier than us and have more interesting sex than us, and it makes us feel terrible. You know we tear them down to feel better about ourselves, and we don’t just stop with the people who are on TV or in magazines—we do it to everybody. And we think that, because it’s done anonymously, there are no ramifications.”

And that little thinly veiled dig at the Paltrow haters is what turned the lightbulb on in my head. I don’t want her to think that for one second her anti–fan club has no face. I want to show her what we look like. We’re not as pretty, we’re obviously not as happy, and our sex lives couldn’t possibly be as interesting as hers, but we are by no means anonymous. My name is Cat Doran, and I find Gwyneth Paltrow annoying. Bring on the ramifications!


My Little Hamsters

Originally posted March 28, 2011

You know how Mariah Carey has her “lambs” and Gaga talks down to her “monsters”? Yeah, I totally want a handle to call my readers. I think I’m going with “hamsters.” And believe me when I tell you I am totally looking down my nose at you for reading this—just like Lady Gaga is sneering down hers at the idiots who are buying that “Born This Way” baloney. Born what way? Straight and white on the Upper East Side of Manhattan? Wow. What a tough row to hoe. She has really triumphed over adversity, hasn’t she?

I, like Gaga and Mariah before me, will make up a stupid name so that anyone reading this can believe I am showing empathy for their unspecified plight. Maybe you cannot resist the allure of nude shoes, or perhaps you have been going without pants for the last year and a half. Whatever you suffer from, please know I will pretend to be the same as you (pantsless!) if it means I will get ahead in the world of fashion bloggers.

Now that we have gotten that out of the way, I can get down to business here—and the business of which I speak is the Mildred Pierce remake as a miniseries.

Hamsters, I sincerely hope you all dutifully watched HBO’s Mildred Piercelast night, and I also hope that while you were watching you were able to marvel at Kate Winslet (whom I confess I used to call Fatty Fatty Kate Winslet until I realized she was waaaay smaller than an average human, and plus she’s so beautiful and good at the acting, so now I just call her Kate Winslet) in her dowdy costumes.

If she wore that brown flowered dress and saggy-ankled stockings for one more scene, I was going to reach into the TV set and snap her garters for her. Those brown Salvation Army Sister Sarah Brown shoes in which she was tramping all over town were killing me almost as much as they were her, with her blistery bandages.

Did you notice that once she got all hot and steamy with Guy Pearce (no relation to Mildred—different spelling) and his fake Chiclet teeth, she started to dress just a little bit better? Well, I did too. See, we ARE alike! Hamsters,je vous adore!

That tidbit of hope, plus seeing old Evan Rachel Wood lip-synching some opera in a ball gown during the upcoming scenes at the end of last night’s episodes one and two led me to believe we are in for much more melodramatic fashion to go along with the melodramatic acting. And I for one couldn’t be happier.

If there is one thing we can all learn from Mildred Pierce it’s there is always a horrible, manipulative character like Veda who is easy to hate. But then again, if it weren’t for Veda’s evil, old Mildred would never have gotten up the gumption to get out of that dowdy brown flowered dress. Talk about triumphing over adversity, right, hamsters?