Dear Little Lord Gabriel and Sir Facetiously Misconstrued,

Why must you continue to ridicule me for little or no reason? I share my love of great taste with everyone–I share my passionate love of my body with you, Gabriel–and yet everyone continues to mock my actions. What do you want? For me to turn GOOP into a copy of some celebrity blog? No. There are many people out there who appreciate–even love–what I am doing. They support it and are absolutely wonderful. One day, I am sure you will all come around and perhaps then we can all go GOOPing together. One day.

Gabriel, it may sound as if I’m upset with you, but you know how it is: I am far too drawn to you to ever deny it. I shall see you tonight; I’m wearing the thong I purchased from a lovely town along the Mediterranean. They say it’s based on a design hundreds of years old.

Love,

Gwyneth

Dearest Little Lord Gabriel,

I know your endless love for me knows no bounds, but I must confess to being sheepishly disgusted with comments such as the one above by Sir Facetiously Misconstrued. I do believe the delicate and physical moments we share with one another should no be left behind our own closed French doors, don’t you think so? I do love, darling, that you are giving these disturbing monsters a little home, but I must ask you stem their tide of vile. But I do appreciate how you are refusing to turn this place over to the corporate machine. Just think what it would be like if Videogum charged for it’s delightfully witty insights. I dare say, lovely, that you would make quite the killing (if I may be so frank), but at least it is free! So very noble of you. I think someone deserves a little nibble on the ear, in the oh so playful way he frequently enjoys.

Love you all,
Gwyneth

Little Lord Gabriel,

This picture is absolutely darling! We must remember to have it framed and placed on the mantel. Jawbone, don’t fret, dear. American have such atrocious diction that it’s no surprise “pram” was not recognized. Why, when I went to England and visited the thousand year old buildings, I learned so many new, exciting (not to mention correct!) words. America has delightfully butchered your language, I must say.

-Gwyneth

My dearest little Lord Gabriel,

Why do you continue to hide your affection for me behind such a veil of cold snark? I long for the day when you put aside this farce, and we can embrace each other in the true, wild passion that courses through our veins. Then I can make you a roasted chicken. I perform both of these tasks very admirably.

You longing, waiting love,
Gwyneth