I had a close call the other day, when I came across an expensive and totally inappropriate fashion piece that ignited my fantasy of being an angry schoolgirl.

Look at how bad ass this is! I pictured my self wearing it with a white tank top and black jeans.

It even says ‘loser’ on the front! It’s so ME, I thought. It’s some kind of polyester and costs around $600, but I was THIS CLOSE to buying it.

Then I found a lookbook for the designer, showing sulky young girls wearing the jacket with a Goth Lolita flair, smoking cigarettes and clearly ditching school.

It suddenly occurred to me that I’m not an angry schoolgirl anymore, at least not on the outside.  No one wants to see grandma in her kooky jackets at this point. It was a highly unpleasant epiphany.

I’m still not over it. Yesterday, I waked into my husband’s home ‘office’ wearing a faded pair of Levi’s with a black wife beater and demanded, “DO I LOOK TWENTY-TWO?” He answered Yes, like a dutiful robot, but he may have been trying not to laugh. I don’t even know why I chose 22; it could be Gwyneth Paltrow‘s famous boast of a “butt like a 22 year old stripper.” That’s the kind of statement you can never forget. It’s part of why we all hate her.

Sometimes I wonder about the function of fashion, even though I’ve read more than my share of long-winded essays on the subject. What are we really trying to express with the clothes we wear? Our coolness? Our amazing taste or ingenuity? Our credit card limit? Are we trying to project our inner selves or to create a false identity?

Normcore was a great trend, even though it was preposterously stupid. Normcore is like having a private joke with yourself: Haha, I look like a boring Nothing but I’m doing it on purpose, that’s how hip I am!

It’s so much better than the current trend of paying a trillion dollars to look like a bedraggled biker.

I just want to make peace between who I am inside with who I am outside. As if that could happen.

I know it’s not very interesting to hate Gwyneth, but how can one ignore her this week? It’s like she WILL NOT REST until every single person on earth detests her. Is her work done yet? If not, we’re getting very, very close.

Today’s revelation (for me, anyway) is that she advises women in troubled relationships to stop fighting and give their man a blowjob instead. Really, Einstein? You think that might work?

What a fucking imbecile. I love the pictures of her feigned embarrassment even more than I love that awful see-through dress she wore recently. But not as much as I love the time she tweeted something like “niggas all in Paris!” to indicate her down-ness.

There is so much to love, i.e. hate, that it’s almost redundant, like denouncing Hitler. Wait. Am I comparing Gwyneth to Hitler?! Sure, see Godwin’s Law. But if you need to catch the latest Iron Man movie and your revulsion for Gwyneth is getting in the way,  here’s a guide to putting things in perspective.

I don’t need to see Iron Man, so I’m good.

If you believe you were at the forefront of the anti- Gwyneth movement, let’s hear about it! (If you don’t hate Gwyneth, you shouldn’t be here at all, just leave quietly.)

I can’t take much more of Madge’s provocations. Obviously the UN is helpless, just like with Syria.

Who would think that she’d still be so insistent about bothering us! Has the competition from Lady Gaga driven her out of her mind? Has she forgotten that she’s already showed us everything in that book “Sex?” Does she have any sympathy for her children? Does she even remember that little baby she bought in Malawi?

I need her to go away. I’ve needed this for so many years. There is no escape from her. I thought I had transferred my hatred to Ms. Gaga but no, now she will have to flash her 53 year old nipple if she wants my attention.

It seems like people are going out of their way just to make me mad! That fucking Gwyneth has been working overtime on twitter to get me going. I refuse to give her the satisfaction of responding.

Gwyneth, go ahead and call people Niggas! Keep working on Goop! Make as many country records as you want. I am focusing my wrath on Madge only, and hoping I can manifest a little “accident” for her if I concentrate hard enough.

All other irritants pale next to Madonna but here are some you can add to if you like.

Pierce Piers Morgan
Lana Del Rey
Kristen Stewart
pictures of cats, pizza, and hippies cavorting in the woods
Snow White movies
people who say “Rye rye rye” in agreement, instead of just saying “right,”
diminutive names for Justin Bieber
ostentatious neck tattoos
band names like “Foster the People.”
Mitt and Anne Romney

Beyonce celebrated her 30th birthday on her yacht in Italy, with family and a few close friends. Her close friend Gwyneth (??) was seen giving Beyonce an envelope.   Look how happy she is after she opens it!

I need to know what was in that envelope.*

Suggestions?

*My friend Maxine said “I would like to think it was a specially penned poem.” If you agree with Maxine, please approximate the poem.

I have PTSD and the world is going to hell, but for the moment I’m choosing to focus on other matters. For example, here is a challenging dilemma:

Who is more annoying. Gwyneth or Chloe?

On the one hand, Gwyneth has that awful website and now she has a recording contract as a country-western singer.

On the other hand, Chloe has her stupid fashion line for Opening Ceremony and that hipster lifestyle.

Gwyneth has the rock-star husband and the unforgivable names of her children. But Chloe has no talent and she looks like she needs a good hot bath. Each of them is a grating irritant in the oyster of my psyche,  neither  producing a pearl.   I would say it’s closer to a blister. I hate them both.

Don’t get caught up on the word “hate,” if that bother you.   Just tell me who you find more annoying, and why.

Ready, set, go.

Sometimes a person comes along and captures your attention no matter how much you think you don’t care about them. Such is the wonder of Rachel Zoe.

I thought I’d had enough of her after reading about her fight with Nicole Richie and seeing photos of her anorexic shriveled body with the attendant quote: I’m just naturally tiny!

But one of my horrible newsletters invited me to click on Rachel Zoe’s new website and voila! I am hooked. How does she write like that, is my question. It’s like a whole other language! No wonder people like her! This is better than GOOP, don’t you think? Or maybe they can’t be compared, since they are nutty in different ways, like the unhappy families in Anna Karenina.

Here is what I’ve just learned from Rachel Zoe:   Diamond studs can get a little snoozy. That’s right, SNOOZY, you snoozy diamond stud people. I personally have three little snoozy diamond studs in my right ear at this very moment. Luckily, I also have a little gold spike earring in the same ear, or I might feel like a complete loser. Whew! That was a close call.

I can tell Rachel Zoe is going to keep me on my toes. If only she would share that fucking Restylane with me. I know I’m fixated on it, but I can feel my cheeks deflating with every passing moment.

Today I read a thing about Gwyneth’s expensive new gym in New York, and her partner/personal trainer, Tracy Anderson. Tracy is also Madonna’s personal trainer, and she takes credit for creating Madge’s controversial body.

If you check out Tracy’s website, you can see a gallery of photos that highlight her sinewy pelvis. There’s probably something wrong with me, because the lean pelvis looks painfully deprived of flesh AND a little too much like a young boy. Call me crazy.

Tracy actually looks more like a nice little troll in real life, and that is comforting. But I knew she was a liar after reading that she only lets Madonna lift 3 pound weights. Girl, don’t play us like that!   Anyone who’s ever lifted weights knows that is bullshit!

Tracy likes to pontificate on her fitness philosophy, which includes the promise of looking young until you’re 100. She talks about it here and all over the place.

However, other people like to talk about Tracy. TMZ talks about some lawsuits against Tracy, and shared her mugshot.

Other people like to talk about how Tracy ripped them off, here.

I was so excited by all this that I went back to Tracy’s website, where if you click on “About Tracy” you will find “A Letter From Tracy,” where she talks about a time in her life full of “bummers.” She whines about being too “trusting” and how she has overcome adversity.

Yay for Tracy! Now I’m happy. I hope Gwyneth and Madonna know all about the “bummers” but if not, oh well, they’re both as lean as beef jerky, and that’s what matters most!