GOOP-brilliant

“This has been the longest April in the history of Aprils.”

“I know right? April feels even longer than March and March felt soooo long.”

“But not as long as February. Remember February? We were both losing our minds so we booked that spa day and my facial made me break out and your massage hurt your neck.”

“HA!”

“Do you think it’s a bad sign that months go so slowly for us? Shouldn’t they be going really quickly? Like if we had lives we actually liked, wouldn’t the months be flying by?”

“We like our lives don’t we? I mean maybe we don’t love our lives, but who does?”

“Lots of people love their lives. Like the women shopping at Whole Foods who buy fresh not farmed salmon and eggs from the happy hens. Their skin glows. They for sure love their lives.”

“I totally disagree. Those women also think that this April has been the longest April in the history of Aprils, it’s just that they have better coping strategies.”

“Like?”

“Like instead of drinking Trader Joe wine and watching old episodes of Sex and the City, they’re having affairs with their pool guys.”

“I have never seen a hot pool guy. Why does everyone always talk about pool guys like they’re desirable? Also, they scrape yucky stuff from the top of the pool, why would you want to have sex with a guy who was covered in pool gunk?”

“Solid point.”

“Plus, Trader Joe’s boxed Pinot Grigio is actually pretty good.”

“Another solid point.”

“I think there is too much pressure to be happy all the time, it’s not natural. That doesn’t mean we don’t experience moments of joy, or pleasure, or silliness, but the pressure to ‘be happy’ all the time is just another way capitalism traps us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, if we feel bad about not being ‘happy all the time’ then companies can sell us stupid shit – like adaptogen-infused wellness mood-boosting drinks based on the signs of the zodiac.”

“Actually, that’s a brilliant marketing idea. Like GOOP-brilliant. We could retire early on that idea – and hire our own cute pool guys.”

“You’re insane.”

“You’re a fucking genius.”

Vice Magazine, by Vincent Perini