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Rob in GQ magazine...


Starbuck73
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A few days after we meet Robert Pattinson for the first time, we will call up his Twilight co-star Kristen Stewart, who will say this about him:

 

“He can’t lie,” she says. “It makes things a little scary for him sometimes. But it’s my favorite thing about him.”

 

Funny—by then, it would be our favorite thing about him, too. We spend a Tuesday afternoon with Pattinson, in a little bakery-café on Doheny Drive, in West Hollywood, and the whole time, he seems to be telling the truth compulsively, heedlessly, helplessly, as if he’d been shot with a sodium pentothal dart while parking his car.

 

Pattinson’s other problem—he admits this early on—is that he can’t abide a conversational lull.

 

“I just say the first thing that comes into my head,” he said, “out of nervousness. During interviews I’m literally s***ting my pants. I don’t want there to be a silence, because I’ll start crying.”

 

It’s December; Twilight, in which Pattinson, 22, plays an adorably tortured perma-teenage vampire too principled to drink human blood, has been in theaters for about a month. Long enough for it to gross more than $150 million, long enough for the studio to pull the trigger on the first of three potential sequels by replacing director Catherine Hardwicke with one of the guys responsible for the American Pie franchise, not long enough for Pattinson to grasp what any of these developments mean for him, or the importance of dissembling in the presence of reporters.

 

He slides into his chair, dressed all in black, with a weeks-old beard, hair crammed under a wool cap, looking like Justin Timberlake researching an off-Broadway turn as Terry Malloy. His clothes smell like he has recently purchased them off the back of someone less fortunate than he. He’s just come from a big-time meeting with a director and can’t wait to tell us how weird it was. Some guy offering him a part, maybe, in a movie so double top secret he couldn’t tell Pattinson what it was about. “He wouldn’t say anything,” Pattinson says, “and he also wouldn’t leave,” so Pattinson sat there and talked about himself for three hours and drank enough coffee to make a rhino’s heart explode.

 

“God, I don’t remember the last time I ate,” Pattinson says.

 

In a vampire movie, he’d have said this with a suggestive eyebrow-wiggle, and then they’d cut to our pallid corpse tumbling out of a Dumpster. Stupid journalist. Instead, Pattinson goes on, filling dead air. He explains that the place he’s staying at in L.A. has a microwave, and that he’s never had a microwave before, and that he spends a lot of time looking for new things you can microwave. Those frozen cheeseburgers, from the store. A carrot. Did we mention that he’s had about nineteen cups of coffee? He asks the waiter about the soup. It’s chicken vegetable. He orders a Coke.

 

 

***** Read the whole article - http://men.style.com/gq/features/full?id=c...7&pageNum=1 *****

Edited by Starbuck73
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While the pics are lovely it is, strangely enough, the article that kills me. Love it!!!!!

 

strangely, i found some of the stuff about little ashes quite amusing.

 

Yeeeees me too! newangel.gif

 

That paragraph about the 14 year old pap had me giggling out loud in the office - good thing noone else is here!!!! hilarious!

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