Or so says the latest issue of some tabloid or other. Not really worth naming here.
Really, I can't blame the man (though I don't believe the statement is entirely true). Since he has been in New York, he has:
- Changed hotels twice in one week just for some peace and quiet.
- Been mauled/chased/molested/mugged/eye-raped by 'tards of all shapes, ages, and sizes (see post on Hewie, Dewie, Luey and Porkface).
- Nearly been hit by a taxi-cab trying to escape said 'tards.
- Shouted at/ogled over/photographed/filmed DAILY whilst trying to shoot a damn scene.
Now, I know this is not to blame on New York City women; honestly, most of them are unimpressed with celebrity, and have seen enough films made in their city to not give it a second glance. The fact is, women in general are just losing it over this guy. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not going to use my precious vacation days to stand in a dirty alley, clinging to my fanny pack and the hopes of seeing the Sex-Hair-God in all his fleshly glory. It's just a waste. It's just lame.
And it's just downright scary, if you ask me.
At LEAST let the man do his job; at least give him that consideration.
Such a request may be in vain; common sense flies as fast as panties are fling where Rob is concerned.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
Whatever happened to a good, old fashion "I just got lucky"?
No. Not THAT kind of lucky. The kind of lucky where you meet your celebrity crush because of the stars aligning perfectly, and not because of Twitter posts with his exact location.
As any Robsessed fan does, I keep a weathered eye on the news at all times. Not the real news; I know about as much about the economy's status as a hovel-dweller. No, my vision is turned toward the entertainment side. EW mag, Entertainment Tonight... an occasional "Us Weekly"...
And let me say: the news has gotten increasingly disturbing concerning my object of affection.
HE is in NYC filming a picture called "Remember Me" (I am SO excited for this film, by the way). Well, about two weeks ago, at the shoots start, who should come to the set but the crazies? You know the ones: the TWI-MOMS and the TWEENIES and EVEN SOME GIRLS MY AGE! WTH? Does no one understand how stalker-ish that is? I wouldn't want anyone following me around when I'M at work (oh, Lord knows the evidence they could gather against me...)
It gets better.
Day one, four women in their twenties, whom we will call Huey, Dewie, Louie and Porkface, proceed to shove Robert's security out of the way and simultaneously wrap their arms around his neck! They even tried to get their icky faces close enough to his to kiss! Poor boy laughed good-naturedly as the icky women were literally peeled off his hot-bod.
But wait... it gets better!!!
Not a week later, several dozen -probably a hundred or so- of these same fans commence a chase. They are the beagles, Rob is the bunny. Off they go, rounding the corner at an accelerating pace, one loses her balance and lands in a hotdog cart, they're nipping at each others heels when -BAM- poor Rob! Hipchecked by a taxicab.
AND OH WAIT- IT GETS EEEEEEEEVEN BETTER!
These fans then have the GALL to get upset and pissy when Robert doesn't sign autographs. I mean, hello? You nearly chased the man to his death, and he doesn't want to give you the time of day? HOW DARE HE BE A HUMAN BEING WITH A NEED TO RECUPERATE!
Seriously, fans, I am just as obsessed as you are. I, however, at least have the maturity to keep it locked at home where it can't hurt anyone, especially Rob.
And Rob- this wouldn't have happened if you'd cast me in the role of Ally. Just a thought. :)
As any Robsessed fan does, I keep a weathered eye on the news at all times. Not the real news; I know about as much about the economy's status as a hovel-dweller. No, my vision is turned toward the entertainment side. EW mag, Entertainment Tonight... an occasional "Us Weekly"...
And let me say: the news has gotten increasingly disturbing concerning my object of affection.
HE is in NYC filming a picture called "Remember Me" (I am SO excited for this film, by the way). Well, about two weeks ago, at the shoots start, who should come to the set but the crazies? You know the ones: the TWI-MOMS and the TWEENIES and EVEN SOME GIRLS MY AGE! WTH? Does no one understand how stalker-ish that is? I wouldn't want anyone following me around when I'M at work (oh, Lord knows the evidence they could gather against me...)
It gets better.
Day one, four women in their twenties, whom we will call Huey, Dewie, Louie and Porkface, proceed to shove Robert's security out of the way and simultaneously wrap their arms around his neck! They even tried to get their icky faces close enough to his to kiss! Poor boy laughed good-naturedly as the icky women were literally peeled off his hot-bod.
But wait... it gets better!!!
Not a week later, several dozen -probably a hundred or so- of these same fans commence a chase. They are the beagles, Rob is the bunny. Off they go, rounding the corner at an accelerating pace, one loses her balance and lands in a hotdog cart, they're nipping at each others heels when -BAM- poor Rob! Hipchecked by a taxicab.
AND OH WAIT- IT GETS EEEEEEEEVEN BETTER!
These fans then have the GALL to get upset and pissy when Robert doesn't sign autographs. I mean, hello? You nearly chased the man to his death, and he doesn't want to give you the time of day? HOW DARE HE BE A HUMAN BEING WITH A NEED TO RECUPERATE!
Seriously, fans, I am just as obsessed as you are. I, however, at least have the maturity to keep it locked at home where it can't hurt anyone, especially Rob.
And Rob- this wouldn't have happened if you'd cast me in the role of Ally. Just a thought. :)
Friday, June 26, 2009
The Maiden Voyage
There's a reason my name is not posted anywhere on this site. Not my name, and certainly not my email address. It is nothing personal to anyone who may read this, it is simply a choice I've made in a bid to retain an ounce of dignity and anonymity.
And, for goodness' sake, I think I need that.
You see, I'm a victim. Granted, I did it to myself, but sometimes, I swear I had no choice in the matter. I didn't make things this way; I didn't put that clip on the Penelope DVD. I didn't make the sexhair. How much can I really be faulted for, when all I did was obey my primal nature to gawk-until-my-shirt-is-so-soaked-in-drool-i-look-like-I've-been-on-mtv-spring-break?
Dear reader, I have a problem.
His name is Robert Pattinson.
Yes. You read that right. Robert Pattinson a.k.a Edward Cullen a.k.a The Great Panty-melter.
My problem is not WITH him. I adore the crap out that man to almost a literal point. My problem is my OBSESSION with him.
I USED to be normal. I USED to have control over my thoughts.
All these things used to be... and then, it happened.
I saw HIM. And I was hooked.
Now, I spend hours upon hours watching videos. Days are wasted on message boards. And my sick, twisted little heart pitter-patters just at the MENTION of a man I never have and never will meet!
What iswrong with me?!
I know I'm not alone. Though I've come to accept my deep sink into the delicious and sexy world that is Robsession, I must admit... I feel like a loser.
More will follow; I can never stay away from the Robness for long.
And, for goodness' sake, I think I need that.
You see, I'm a victim. Granted, I did it to myself, but sometimes, I swear I had no choice in the matter. I didn't make things this way; I didn't put that clip on the Penelope DVD. I didn't make the sexhair. How much can I really be faulted for, when all I did was obey my primal nature to gawk-until-my-shirt-is-so-soaked-in-drool-i-look-like-I've-been-on-mtv-spring-break?
Dear reader, I have a problem.
His name is Robert Pattinson.
Yes. You read that right. Robert Pattinson a.k.a Edward Cullen a.k.a The Great Panty-melter.
My problem is not WITH him. I adore the crap out that man to almost a literal point. My problem is my OBSESSION with him.
I USED to be normal. I USED to have control over my thoughts.
All these things used to be... and then, it happened.
I saw HIM. And I was hooked.
Now, I spend hours upon hours watching videos. Days are wasted on message boards. And my sick, twisted little heart pitter-patters just at the MENTION of a man I never have and never will meet!
What iswrong with me?!
I know I'm not alone. Though I've come to accept my deep sink into the delicious and sexy world that is Robsession, I must admit... I feel like a loser.
More will follow; I can never stay away from the Robness for long.
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