ROBERT Pattinson, of Twlight, is at the Bowery Hotel, New York, talking with Details magazine. Pattinson is the Englishman in New York, whish dictates that he must do something quirky. He obliges with talk of being black, an allergy to vaginas and:
“Okay. I’m Rob. Um . . . would you like some fries? With gravy?”
Chips and gravy, is so very English. Only Rob is from London where french fries are called artisan hand-crafted potato sticks. Gravy is what northerners have coursing through their veins.
Jenny Lumet, Sidney Lumet’s daughter, is conducting the interview in flowery pros:
Rob’s face is constantly busy—especially his kaleidoscopic eyes, which are continually rolling and dilating, because he is always thinking
Medic!
In London, Rob and Jenny find a restaurant. More gravy and fries, Rob? They find an eatery:
“Yes. Sure. But last time I was here, the guacamole was bad.”
Then eating:
He drifts into a reverie. He gets amazed easily, and at the moment he’s fixated on the mysterious green bar snacks. They’re sort of like wasabi peas, but not. They’re covered in chili powder and look like tiny tumors. He’s eating every single one.
“Fuck, these are good. What are they? I want to snort them—they’d clear up my sinuses.”
A million teenaged girls sigh.
After the food, the best bits about the interview are that RPattz seems to be mirroring Lumet, who peppers her pros with lots of “fucks” and “fucking”. Fairy Hair is a skilled politician.
Rob’s hunger is more than merely metaphorical. He orders two entrees—the mini beef burgers with tomato-and-onion relish and the mini chicken burgers with mango chutney—along with another pint.
Okay, Jenny, let’s leave the food:
Rob, did you know that every time you say actor or acting you lower your voice to a whisper?
He’s genuinely startled. “I do?”
Yes, so quietly it’s like you’re saying Negro.
He laughs, lightens up. “What if we were ‘acting’ like ‘Negroes’? Then we’d be fucked—we couldn’t hear anything. . . .”Jenny Lumet’s great-grandfather was Edwin Horne, co-founder of a black political lobbying group called the United Color Democracy. Pattinson knows how to appeal to his interviewer. And Jenny is a woman. Says RPattz of the photoshoot (here – NSFW):
“I really hate vaginas. I’m allergic to vagina. But I can’t say I had no idea, because it was a 12-hour shoot, so you kind of get the picture that these women are going to stay naked after, like, five or six hours. But I wasn’t exactly prepared. I had no idea what to say to these girls. Thank God I was hungover.”
After the sex, the race and the mirroring, it’s back to food:
In the U.K., Smarties are made of chocolate and are kind of like M&M’s in weird colors like mauve and teal but somehow more delicious. Rob’s not really a dessert guy, yet he’s rapidly hoovering my last packet of Smarties. “Amazing. I’ve eaten like 5,000 of these already. See what you have to deal with?”
And after the quintessential Smarties, the interview ends with good old fashioned flirting:
A few moments later, Rob announces he’s going to get a cab home and excuses himself.
Can I walk you? I don’t like you going out there all by yourself.
“I’ll be okay.”
Robert Pattinson, ladies and gentlemen, a quick mind and sharps mind that gets an interviewer eating out of his hand…
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