There are SO many horrifying things happening right now...

Like this.



I love Bittman. Batali and his sweaty, smelly crocks are all right. But Paltrow? Please, God. Why are you doing this? You know how I feel about the sound of her voice. The smug expression and equally smug sound bites on magazine covers. "I Simplify Everything." Yeah, it's amazing how simple things can get with bazillions of dollars.

You remember when I wrote this letter, God? Did you think I was kidding?

Dear Gwyneth,

You and I started off fine. I found you precious in movies like Emma, Sliding Doors, The Talented Mr. Ripley, Seven. I coveted your long blond hair and sweet British accent. Then I found out you aren't British but I didn't begrudge you! Oh, no, quite the contrary. Any child of Blythe Danner is a pal of a mine.

And then...when did we go wrong, Gwyn? It must've been after the Brad breakup, the Affleck breakup, Shakespeare in Love, the pink Oscar dress...It seems unfair to put all of this on your relationship with Chris Martin but I think that's where the trouble began. It's like when one of your friends get married and where they were only mildly irritating before, now they're now insufferable and you feel the urge to set fire to their townhouse whenever you drive by. Um, or so I hear.


So now I find myself unable to hear you speak. You talk about macrobiotic diets and you smugly tell reporters you never would've exposed yourself to the media the way Jennifer Aniston did, blah blah blah, and you refer to Anthony Hopkins as "An-tony" during an award presentation and suddenly I can't enjoy even Shakespeare in Love because your pretension has seeped in and stained everything, and it all has the stench of an Elizabeth Arden commercial or whatever that is that you're stumping where you roll around in wildflowers and play with puppies and your own happiness and, ugh, I'm too busy sitting in my own vomit to continue this any longer.

Please stop calling me. Accept that this is over. I don't want to come over and listen to any more new Coldplay tracks. I don't want to listen to you talk about how milk causes cancer. I'm not interested in what Moses did on the potty yesterday. The fact that I had to write that sentence at all is so wrong. You are all so wrong.

Sincerely,
Judi

I guess I have to be more graphic. The mere mention of her fills my throat with bile. Cease and desist immediately.