The OTHER Robert Pattinson Outtakes Video!

You know you love him... You know you want him... And here for your viewing pleasure is the amazing OPattz (who knew Robert Pattinson could bust a move like that?)!

Many thanks to two very talented ladies--Lorabell and TwiCarol--for their respective parts in putting this video together and for encouraging the mayhem that is Twitarded.




[This is a recap, but don't worry - you haven't seen the last of OPattz - he'll be making special guest appearances from time to time...he just doesn't know it yet!]

Twitarded Don't Need No Stinkin' Robert Pattinson Interview Mag Outtakes

I'm sure by now most of you, if not all, are aware that a bunch of blogs have gotten their twi-wrists slapped for posting the infamous 'what-the-fuck-are-you-wearing-but-damn-that's-hot' RPattz outtakes.

Even though we didn't get any threatening emails from the Powers That Be, we still took down our pictures and videos, just in case. Frankly, if we're going to get shut down I want it to be for our gratuitous use of foul language and constant references to vaginas and penises, not fuck-hawt pictures of RPattz in sweatpants and fucking vest [what IS up with that outfit?!].

Regardless, STY and I were disappointed, mainly because we want nothing more than to share our Twi love with all of you. It was a blow to our egos to have to remove the videos that, in our humble snarky opinions, were harmless. Plus, we don't like anyone telling us what to do.

We were both wandering around, a little bummed that the long arm of the law was lurking when we came up with most fabulous idea EVER.

Let's do our own photo shoot. So we, um, like, totally, called RPattz up and asked if he didn't mind stopping by for an impromptu Twitarded photo session.

He agreed, because he's fuck-awesome like that. Personally, we think our photos came out WAY better than the ones that were pulled, despite our obvious... inability to actually take photographs.

RPattz OPattz says he loves you and wants to give you a big fucking hug.

In typical Twitarded fashion, we even brought the camcorder and recorded a snippet of the photo shoot. We hope you enjoy.

** Thanks to OWard for posing, Ms. OWard for providing wardrobe and Mr. Snarky and ML for not calling those nice folks in white coats on us.

Lawyers and Photographers SUCK

So up until about three seconds ago when my secret super-addicted twiblogger bud told me that a major international Robert Pattinson site was SHUT THE FUCK DOWN over those pics Rob, I was all cavalier and shit. But the thought of having someone pull the plug on my beloved blog sent shivers down my spine and I'm not talking about the good kind of shivers, either. So fine, they win, I suck and my bad attitude just wet itself. FML.

You can make me take the pics down but they're burned into my brain forever, so you can take your copyright laws and shove they up your tight lawyerly buttocks. I hope it hurts.

You Asked For It... One More Twilight Doll!

So apparently at least one or three of us (JJ and I included) are unfortunate enough to NOT be going away this weekend... And I hate to break the news, but the rest of the world is out of town. I can hear the collective blogosphere - cricket cricket cricket - and it is empty. Abandoned. The few poor souls who are around are busy licking their computer screens and chasing the flaming remnants of their underwear around and are unable to rip their eyes away from the recently released orgasm-inducing outtakes from Interview magazine. Panties didn't just get moist, they combusted. Emergency rooms have been overwhelmed with scorched hoo-hoos and retinas alike.

For better or for worse, I can cure what ails you right now. I have sobering--nay, frightening--things to share. OK, just one thing. You can blame one of our own, a Twitarded reader who wanted to share... She saw this and immediately thought of us (I was initially insulted but then flattered - we are a couple of weirdos and we like shit like this when it comes right down to it). I will be totally honest and admit the when I clicked on the link she sent me, I shrieked an involuntary little shriek. Just a tiny one. I forwarded it to JJ and she made such a ruckus that I think the person sitting next to her on the train fled (and you can pretty much do anything on the train and people won't give up their seats. Whip out your toenail clippers and go to town and people will remain stoic - but her reaction to THIS was too much).

Anyway, meet Esme. Or should I say "Esme Cullen Vampire Goddess of Compassion," as some handy crafter over at Etsy imagines her... I am putting the pic here and not linking because, well, to each their own. But really - WTF?!

I sure wish Carlisle had turned me before my 100th birthday...

This is the text from the listing:

My daughter became obsessed with the Twilight saga about a year ago. I wanted to know what all of the excitement was about, so naturally I read them too.

One thing I noticed is that the characters in my mind while reading the books didn't look much like the people who played them in the movie.

So this is what my mental Esme looks like. She is a being of love and compassion, with otherworldly white skin, youthful beauty, and a romantic dress from the time she would have been human.

Her arms are reaching out as if to hold her missing baby.

She became a unique expression of a compassionate being, and the expression of her face, the gesture of her arms, and her demeanor all imply compassion.

Her clothing, hair, and white skin is part regal and part otherworldly.

This is a mixed media one of a kind OOAK art doll. She is 10" tall and made primarily from polymer clay, paper clay, fabric, and vintage handkerchiefs.

Um, I think your daughter is appalled. Just sayin'. Oh and btw if you want this, it's gonna cost you $258. Plus shipping.

Come HERE, Action-Figure Jacob! I want to clutch your rock-hard pecs in my man-hands!

Because I am not SUCH an evil bitch, here's a few choice RPatts pics to ease your pain (and PLEASE will someone make a video of these set to something hot, STAT?!) - oh and just for the record I actually had a dream last night that someone had removed the watermarks from these pics. Because I am THAT obsessed with them! These are two of my favorites (I am hesitant to even put these in the same post with what's-her-name but I'll do it anyway). It should be illegal to be this hot. I don't understand it, I am too old for this shit, blah-blah-blah, but ME WANTEE!!!

[photos removed because LAWYERS SUCK!!!]

If you still need a little more Robward to recover from Creepy Esme, I would suggest checking out RobMusement's latest pic spam post. I just found this blog but apparently a lot of you guys were aware of it already and have been holding out on me. Nice.

The New Moon Minis: When Action Figures Attack!

It's Frankenward, Muffin-Top Girl, 'Roid Boy & Helmet Hair - RUUUUUN!!!

Let me preface this by saying I love my Edward Cullen action figure. When he became available last winter, JJ and I ordered ourselves a pair; hijinks ensued. Sure, he is a little..."odd" looking, and isn't very cooperative when it comes to being photographed. He doesn't bend much. His wardrobe is extremely limited and his face is always shadowy. Plus he falls over. A lot.

Don't tell Mini-Edward, but between you and me, I would have traded him in for the younger, spiffier, unblemished-from-constant-travel New Moon Mini-Edward model faster than you can say "Twinkie" if it wasn't for the fact that "new"/New Moon Mini-Edward is an abomination. He looks more like one of those freaky spikey-haired kids that used to be on that "Growing Up Guido Gotti" show than Edward Cullen.

"Yo Bella, I traded in the Volvo for an IROC - let's go for a spin!"

Seriously, I have problems with this Edward. He looks all...bulky. His shoes are clunky, his pants are ill-fitted and they have an old-man-suit rise. Plus the jacket makes him look linebacker-y, and his head is disproportionately small relative to the rest of his body (this might just be the camera angle. maybe). Show me one thing on this monstrosity that captures Edward's Grecian God beauty and grace! And fuck my life that I am actually genuinely irritated by the lack of resemblance between a fictional character - a vampire, no less! - and the action figure based on it. I don't think there is help for this kind of problem, and if there is, I am sure that 1) it's obscenely expensive and 2) my medical insurance doesn't cover it. Did I say fml? FML.

"GRRRRRR... Which way back to laboratory, Dr. Frankenstein???"

Admit it: you can see the resemblance... I would also like to point out that Frankenstein has WAAAY more movable joints than Edward and his tiny minions, who appear to have none.

Oh New Moon Mini Bella, what has NECA wrought? Why does it seem so easy to eff up the miniature replica of a cute teenage girl??? I've seen cuter Bratz dolls, and they're fugly. Bella is supposed to have soft, round features, yet your angular, mannish face looks like it's had bad plastic surgery, your shoes look like cheap Converse knock-offs, and I don't know which of the toy designers you scorned, but they definitely created you with a muffin-top spilling out over the top of your jeans - and have you been drinking? Because that's definitely a lil' beer-belly pooch, too.

Um, plus you kind of look like you wanna kick my ass... {{{shivers}}} Was it something I said???

On to Jacob's over-done beefcakeyness - I don't think I've seen an action figure this buff since He-Man...

Your pecs are impossibly big and you can't put your arms at your sides...

Your neck is like a chuck roast, so thick and meaty...

If this whole Twilight Saga thing doesn't work out, there's always Chippendale's or modeling for International Male catalog...

And does his shirt come off?! I'm thinking "no" - that this is just something some lonely action-figure creator conjured up one night after seeing Taycob's 24-pack and borderline-disturbing pecs...

{{{sigh}}}} But I suppose it could have been worse...

"Hi! I'm Alice's Grandma! C'mere and let me pinch your cheeks... Aren't you glad they never actually made me? Because my prototype is frightening! I made Ashley Greene cry - true story."

Did Alice EVER have auburn hair? Did the person who hashed this thing together before Comic Con last year glance at the specs and then realize too late that he'd painted the hair the color the eyes were supposed to be??? That's my theory, anyway...
Sadly--but not surprisingly--Alice didn't fare much better this year... She's not supposed to look all butch, for fuck's sake! Since when is she a member of Panic! at the Disco because what the FUCK is that get up she's wearing? Is she wearing a tie and vest?! Alice is supposed to be all elfin feminine beauty - what about that looks says "pixie"? Nothing, that's what...

So will I be plunking down my cash to buy these things? Nope. I really wish that NECA would hire a Twilight-obsessed consultant to help them get the look of their merchandise just right, because clearly they need help. NECA needs me and I'm available! I'll even work for free-ish. They can pay me in Twilight gear! Good-looking Twilight gear! However, since that's not gonna happen, I guess I can always hold out hope for a hot Eclipse Mini-E...

In the meantime, I still have my faithful companion:

Buck up, lil' guy - I still love you and your ming-reading abilities the best!

Preparing for New Moon Premiere. Or War.

If you're reading this blog then you undoubtedly have November 20, 2009 permanently etched into the gray matter of your brain. If you don't, then I am completely baffled as to why you're here (but feel free to enlighten me). For those of you who are too busy drooling over pictures of RPattz or reading fan fiction, I'll happily remind you that's only seventy eight days away, give or take a few hours.

Drooooooooooool

And I have to admit - I'm not sure we'll be able to prepare for the premiere in such a short period of time. Now, you might be asking who in their right mind needs 78 days to prepare for a fucking movie premiere?

Well, no one, actually. But who the hell said we are in our right minds?

Snarkier Than You and I have already been weighing the pros and cons of which movie theater to go to for the Big Night. Now, this might seem a little silly, but realistically this could make or break the whole experience and we are lucky enough to actually have options.

Loews seems the obvious choice, since the stadium seating is a way more comfortable then our other option, which is Regal Cinemas. Being that we are, well, older, the idea of sitting in an uncomfortable chair squeeing quietly at a film for two hours doesn't seem all that fun. Loews one, Regal zero.

On the other hand, Loews is HUGE. There are about two million screens or something like that in the theater (incidentally, there is also a gravestone in the parking lot - that's your random useless factoid for the day!). I can only imagine just how many tweens, teens and annoying little twat-flaps are going to flock to the megaplex to see New Moon. My educated guess is "a fuck-lot" and this has the potential to be very good or very, very bad.


It could be excellent because STY and I plan on bringing an artillery of video/recording devices with the full intent of recording any possible mayhem that may ensue before and after the movie. And with that many excited vaginas corralled in one place - there WILL be mayhem.

Pthhhp. This is fucking tame compared to the New Moon premiere, which is going to look more like a combination of...

This...

But of the female fan variety...

It could be bad, however, if the pandemonium suddenly becomes directed at us. Seeing as how we'll be wearing Twitarded gear and flashing camcorders in each other's faces this is a good possibility and therein lies the problem. These girls are going to see flashy things going off and get curious. Or, they're going to be enraged that someone over the age of sixteen is standing in line in front of them [na na nananer!].

Besides, on top of videos, cameras, voice recorders and whatever claptrap we'll insist on bringing, we will also have the one thing we carry at all times, no matter where we are or what we are doing. And I don't mean Mini Edward, although he's definitely coming along.

It's called an attitude.

You see, STY and I aren't exactly what you would call 'crowd people'. Crowds tend to make us cranky, especially crowds of screaming, self-entitled teenage girls. Throw a little vodka into the mix and New Moon is going to end up being a social experiment in feminine anarchy; and by 'feminine' I mean potential hair-pulling, eye-gouging, screaming and scratching. I can just imagine being besieged by young girls, possibly even getting beaten to a pulp with iPhones, Blackberries, Uggs and whatever new trendy sneaker is in style these days.

I will personally beat the crap out of anyone wearing this shoe. I don't care how old they are.

So I was thinking that maybe we need backup. I thought we could bribe one of our non-twi friend into coming with us because she's a fighter. Then I realized that her attitude makes STY and I look like docile little kittens, so maybe that isn't a good idea after all... It looks like we may have to fend for ourselves. I'd hate to have to use Mini Edward to gouge out an eye or something but... survival of the fittest has never been pretty and we are survivors.

Somehow, the New Moon premiere has morphed from "Let's watch a movie on opening night! Wheee!" to a full on "We need to prepare a battle plan so our invasion into Tweenieland goes smoothly, with as little collateral damage as possible. And it better not be a Boondoggle!! It's gonna get ugly in there, my brave TwiComrades. Stay strong and let's just hope their boyfriends aren't wearing Axe. Hooah!"

I've got ya covered, now RUN! Get to that popcorn stand! And I want extra butter, don't forget!

I mean, seriously, I feel like I'm about to enter the jungles of 'Nam, but with less jungle and death and more squealing and evil eyes. Charlie's everywhere and he's watching. And I don't mean Bella's Dad, either.

Dazzled Into a Stupor By A Magazine Cover. Again.

Laaaaate last night I got an email:

To: Snarkier Than You, JJ
From: Latchkey Wife
Subject: Um, when should I get in line for this?

holy fuck. [yes, that was all she had managed to type before going catatonic]

And it had this image attached:

uhuhhhhhhh...dur... forgets own name, temporarily unable to hit "reply"...

To: LKW, JJ
From: STY

holy fuck is right. i am going to target NOW. i will wait there until this comes out. JJ, man the blog - it's for a good cause, as you can see...

and HOW IS HE SO FUCKING HOT?!? I DON'T UNDERSTAND... I JUST LOOKED AT THAT PICTURE AND I DIED. there. you killed me - happy? all this typing is just that twitchy shit they say happens after you croak.

I haven't been this completely dazzled into a catatonic state since I first saw the cover for GQ in the spring (this was the beginning of a massive state-wide search for the very first possible place to purchase said magazine and culminated with me practically having a spontaneous orgasm in the book and periodicals section of the grocery store when I finally found it).

Huh? What??? Sorry, I must have spaced out there for a sec...

After a few moments I was able to compose myself sufficiently to head off to bed. I was definitely in my happy place.

I had also read earlier - and apologies for not being more specific or giving proper credit but I read a lot of blogs and comments on any given day! - someone saying they were jealous of somebody else's Robward dreams because they had never had one. And, um, I realized I was jealous, too. Of a dream. That someone else had. And I completely related: I wanted one, too!

I have heard people say they don't dream. Or that they dream in black and white. Or that they never remember their dreams. I feel bad for them. My dreams are remarkably real to me. I feel emotions and see colors, details, everything just as it is in real-life (I'm kind of hoping this makes my brain special in a good way and not the "mental-breakdown-is-imminent" way). And last night I dreamed that I met Robert Pattinson. It is the fan encounter that I will never have! Yes, yes, I know that it is painful to listen to other people yammering on about their dreams, but Robert Pattinson IS involved, so I hope you'll forgive me. Just this once. Unless I learn how to have dreams like this every night, and then you'll all be in biiiig trouble.

...but since I can't, tell my about YOUR dreams, Snarkier Than You...

I was standing outside somewhere, with a small group of people--we were all waiting for you-know-who... Then a door opens and Rob comes out with a small entourage - he's clearly heading elsewhere. He starts to walk away - goes up a few stairs, but then turns and looks back over a railing at the hovering fans. I was thinking "I can't believe I am SO close! I could touch him! This must be what JJ felt like when she was set stalking! OMG!!!" I saw "the borrowed shirt" he's wearing in that magazine cover shot (bless you, LKW) - down to the buttons! And his jeans... Mmmmm... We all reached up toward him and I semi-shout "I love you!" [I am embarrassed to admit that I am 100% certain that this is EXACTLY what I would do if I was ever awake and in this situation. JJ's note - I wanted to totally mock you for this. Until I realized I'd do the exact same thing. Fuck]. And then he took my hand in his. I swear on a stack of Twilight books that I felt it - the texture of his skin as his long fingers curled around mine - soft! - and as he slowly raised my hand to his mouth, I felt his lips - also really soft! - and his scruffy face brushed against my skin as he kissed the back of my hand [btw JJ, I am officially a convert to "Scruffy Rob" jftr]. I felt the warmth on my skin. He was looking right. at. me. - holding my gaze! - and I about died. But rather than dying a nice respectful death right there on the spot, I continue to channel my inner 12-year-old and squeaked "I'm never washing this hand again!" And then as he and his group strode away, I started talking excitedly about how I needed to get to someplace where I could write about it and tell all of you guys exactly what happened. That's right: no more than two seconds after the event, I am thinkin' about my bloggy bffs. 'Cause I'm selfless like that...

Best. Tuesday. Ever. Although I sorta feel sorry for all the clients I'll have to talk to on the phone today because I have the feeling that I'm going to be doing a bit of daydreaming today...

I may not be STY but I want to have dreams about RPatts too!

It was so real! When I woke up, I lay there relishing the moment and replaying it in my head a few times and then threw myself out of bed and made a bee-line for the computer before the details faded. You know how dreams tend to fade fast once you wake up and get the day going - I didn't want to lose anything! After I speed-typed most of what you've read, I went to brush my teeth and for a nanosecond I paused involuntarily before I stuck my left hand under the water. Which I realized was because I didn't want to wash the kiss off. Swoon...

OK you can send the little guys in the white coats to collect me now. I absolutely, positively, 100% have it coming and I will go quietly, with a content blissed-out smile on my face... Please send me to Twitardia, though, ok? I'll see you there one day soon!

P.S. I am sorry Taycob, but I am tired of that "Official" picture of you they show on the cover on the magazine. I came across that very same pic but photoshopped in a very unfortunate way, and since then I only see you all feminine and stuff, thirty pounds of abs and pecs be damned.

I had to look at it and now you have to look at it, too.

Fine, fine - sorry about that! How 'bout if I make amends and try to ease the pain in your collective scorched retinas:

Mmmm... Same cover pic, no Taycob!

You know you want to hold my hand, too...among other things...

I'll see you in your dreams again tonight, STY...