I wish I had Gwyneth Paltrow‘s problems. I wish I had her money. I wish I had her wardrobe. I wish I had her legs.
I wish I could make huffy remarks like: “When you go to Paris and your concierge sends you to some restaurant because they get a kickback, it’s like, ‘No. Where should I really be? Where is the great bar with organic wine?”…oh yeah, and you have to say it with a straight face. And, furthermore, Paltrow complains about poor concierge recommendations, like “Where do I get a bikini wax in Paris?” You just hear her fury loud and clear. My god, this is a woman with her finger on the pulse. She is touching on some serious issues that today’s woman really struggle with–being in a foreign country and having no one to tend to your solid gold snatch.
What’s embarrassing, is that…
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