Roblivious here, sitting in for the esteemed Pattinspired, who has once again gone to her mom's *coughNewYorkcough.* She is either the world's best daughter or a stalkerazzi of the first order. You be the judge. As usual, the editorial opinions of this blogger are not necessarily those of the blog's owner, but if they aren't they should be.

A Pornacopia of Robiliciousness!

You’ve got your hairporn, peeperporn, poutporn, fingerporn and for the more serious student – never mind the prophase, metaphase, anaphase action – we’ve got peenphase!

Yes, a peen phasing is a miraculous thing, much more promising than that Boyz II Dogz stuff in NM. But you have to be diligent to detect it when the poor things are kept so cooped up they can hardly move. Why doesn’t PETA say anything about that? Speak up, Kelmett! Power to the free-range peens!

Anyhow, we might not have noticed this one feeling the urge-to-surge if it wasn’t for an overheard conversation between Rob’s various accoutrements:

Shirt: Will you cool it down there?

Peen: Hey, I’m not the one that’s choking him! Since when do you get buttoned up to the neck?

Shirt: It was a misbuttoning, OK? Stop trying to make a spectacle of yourself.

Peen: Ha! You’re just jealous cause he’s always liked me best. Soon as we lose the papz, I bet he’s gonna choke me – Woo Hoo!

It’s a New Day. It’s a New Rob. It’s a New Do!

This one we’ll call DoRoy in honor of the character it will apparently be crowning in “Bel Ami.”

Lots of criticism out there about its flatitude. (Don’t feel bad, Rob’s hair, his girlfriend gets similar complaints, but at the end of the day you’ll both be sleeping with him and the whiners won’t, so it’s all WIN.)

Now we know Rob’s hair isn’t really flat. The world fell victim to the same vicious rumors sometime back (probably started by OK! Magazine), and a bunch of people got burned at the stake for poo-pooing them, but since then, it’s acted so round that the controversy has faded. Oh, there are a few diehards, known as Nonrounders, who swear they’re teetering on the edge. To them I say, teeter away – whatever turns you on.

But there’s no doubt that Rob’s hair will rise again. Like a phoenix, bursting forth in all its magnificence on its campaign to reach the far corners of the universe. It is, after all, Rob’s universe. He only lets us lust here. In the meantime, here’s a little poem to make the current do feel welcome.

There was a notagirl

Who had a little curl

Right on one side of his forehead

And when he was hawt

He was very, very hawt

And when he was not, he was torrid!

Robert Pattinson Spotted with "Lost" Star

Robert Pattinson was spotted Thursday in London with “Lost’s” notorious Smoke Monster. It was going to eat him, but was bludgeoned into submission by hordes of female fans who told it in no uncertain terms to “get in line!”

Remember WetRob?

(As if we could forget him.)

We've all seen and drooled over WetRob before.  WetRob is nothing new.  But no matter how many times we've seen him, WetRob usually causes a whole lotta wetness in everyone around him, ususally without even coming near us, sadly.  The boy has mad skillz.

Thus begins "WetRob: A Retrospective."  (or is that, a "WetRobspective?")

We first saw WetRobric in Harry Potter, plunging into the bog to complete the Twi-Wizard World Domination Contest, or whatever the heck it was called.  Who cares?  It gave us a pink-cheeked young WetRob in shorty-shorts and a tank top.  That's all that matters.

(Only WetRobric could have a jellyfish devouring half his face and still be this adorable.)

Have discovered I am perilously in danger of having my Robsessed card revoked, because my lovely friend Jala just reminded me that I completely forgot WetRoby in the bathtub!  HOW is this possible? How could I forget naked Roby in the tub, getting sponged down by the luckiest woman on the face of the earth next to Kristen Stewart?  I think WetRob should chase me around, whipping me with a wet bath towel in punishment for my crime of omission.  But in penance, here is said clip of Roby being massaged and bathed and generally letting us get a fantastic gander at the Mole Porn all over his back and neck.  *tucks Robsessed card firmly in back pocket next to my tingling right cheek before anyone notices*

Next we have WetRobvador.  Oh so pretty, dog-paddling around in the moonlight in his skivvies with Javier Beltran.  Javier's no slouch, but I think he got the better end of that deal, macking on this for several takes:

"Look.  My hands are amazing.  Would you like me to (insert fantasy here) you with them?"

A quick poll:  How many of you freeze-framed the following scene dozens of times trying to get a gander at Rob's free-floating underwater junk?  Yeah, that's what I thought.  Perves.  (:52 is a good one!)

Of course, no one can forget WetRobward.  Poor, earnest WetRobward, sitting in the rain with Bella, getting drenched, while she remained inexplicably dry.  (At least the parts of her we could see.)

Blue face, red lips, eyeliner, manscaping...still hot!  Only Rob.  That jaw, that neck, that penetrating...stare.  Did I mention the jaw?  And the Adam's apple, or "goozle," as my friend Pattzy calls it...big goozle, big doozle, ifyaknowwhatI'msayinandIthinkyado.

When in doubt, one can always count on WetT-ShirtRob to cause spontaneous lubrication of anyone in the vicinity.  Because, ya know, his wet clothes will get water on you.  (What did you think I meant?)

"I dare you to make fun of my white-man's Jheri curls."

 WetT-ShirtRob with his hands dangerously close to his wet junk? Total win!

 
Makes me wonder how the shoot with photog Theo Warner went for this thing...
Theo:  OK, so Rob, how 'bout I hose you down and you try to look sexy for me?
Rob:  Um, what?
Theo:  You know, douse you with water, like a Flashdance kinda thing.  Retro is in.  I already humiliated you with the acid-wash tight jeans and Bedazzler vest, so this will be a piece of cake.
Rob: Ehrm, yeah, okay, sure.
*Theo throws bucket of water over Rob*

Theo:  Yeah, that's it!  Hot!  Work it!  Chicks dig the mipples, man.
Rob:  The what??? 
Theo:  Man nipples.  Women are into 'em.
Rob:  Really?  Should I just take my shirt off?

Theo:  No, that's okay.  Until you do something about that jungle under your armpits, I think less is more.

 
Okay, admittedly, purposely-wet, posed Rob has a bit of eau de fromage about it.  Sure, he's hot, but also teetering precariously somewhere between Tiger Beat and gay internet porn.  It's kind of nice to see casual, minding-my-own-business-walkin'-down-the-street-drunk-until-some-frackin'-papz-get-in-my-face, accidentally wet Rob; or RainRob, as I call him.

Mmmmm...look at how the rain is running down that supple leather jacket, splattering his hoodie and those falling-down fug pants....makes you just wanna take him home and strip him outta those wet clothes and towel him dry with your tongue before he gets pneumonia, doesn't it?

And maybe by the time you get him home and out of the rain, you're he's so damp that he really just needs to go all the way with you and get in the shower.  Once you're both all wet, why fight it?  WetRobler looks to be more fun than a Slip-n-Slide on a hot July day, or 2-for-1 ticket day at the Wet-n-Wild Water Park.  I mean clearly the dude knows his way around a shower nozzle.

Eh, what's a little grout mildew when there's Robler shower sex to be had?

After all that good clean fun, Rob is ready to go back out into the world and earn some hard-earned money.  BathRob is just so darn cute, you wanna pinch his cheeks.  (I'll let you choose which ones.)

Apparently it was raining a bit before the BAFTA awards on Sunday, so I am happy to blame the state of Rob's hair on the inclement London weather.  The rain giveth; the rain taketh away.

Interestingly, WetBAFTARob looks a bit like Robric Digginson here, doesn't he?  Ah, the wondrous Circle of WetRob.  Long may he make panties moist the world over.

BAFTAmath

Yesterday proved to be another "It's All Rob's Fault" moment of supreme time suckage when I discovered that the BAFTA red carpet pre-show and awards ceremony would both be streamed live on the internet. After finding a link that actually worked, I kicked back in my jammies with a pot of coffee to watch the proceedings.

Kristen showed up first, looking quite lovely, if a bit tired. (A wild night of Reunion Sex will do that to a girl. Not that I would ever dream of being so presumptous as to assume that she is boffing HHH. I'm sure they actually spent their first night together in a month playing parchesi over a pot of Earl Grey tea.)  Check out how happy she looks! Hell, I'd be smiling too if after all that naked Twister and Jello shots catching up with an old friend.

(Congratulations, Kristen! For oh-so many reasons)

The BAFTA red carpet crowd began to perk up again at the sight of Prince William, who is quite handsome, if a bit thin on top, poor chap.  Good thing he did his rounds before the real prince of the evening showed up, however.  When our beloved Robbie P. showed his grinning mug and spectacular strut on the red carpet, all heck broke loose, as expected.  Damn, that man can hang a suit.

Rob gives gooooood tux.

Why so cute, Rob? *sigh*

"I don't know, I just can't help it."

Why so hot, Rob?  *grroooowwwwl*

"Dunno, ask God or my parents."

What small, furry creature died on top of your head, Rob?

"I have no idea, but it's interfering most grievously with my nervous finger-combing habit."

Okay, let's call a spade a spade.  That's some bad hair.  The wayward forelock...the flat moptop...the wings of hair sticking out over his ears...the excess product.  If I didn't know better, I would have sworn that Kristen sat on it the entire night before.  I tried to give it a chance.  I tried to like it because I like Rob.  I love Rob.  I wouldn't kick Rob outta my bed for leaving cracker crumbs, let alone having bad hair.  But when I feared for his hair concerning the filming of Bel Ami, it never dawned on me that it might not be the facial hair that would be disastrous; it might be the hair on his head instead.  I thought Bel Ami was set in the 1870s, not the 1970s.  Holy John Schneider on a cracker.  And Rob actually thanked the make-up woman for Bel Ami, so if she is the hair stylist as well, I am too dumbstruck to comment any further.

I'm pretty sure it's not just me when websites from People to Tiger Beat are hosting polls asking the general public if Rob's new hair piece style is a 'do' or a 'don't.'

OMG...seriously.  Seriously?  Is this a decision which requires conscious thought?

On the upside, someone inside the awards ceremony managed to make the hair slightly more presentable.  Then again, with a face like that, does anyone really even notice what's happening above it?

Hot DAMN but if that isn't one fine looking man.

And Rob did splendidly on his award presentation.  He didn't seem nervous at all, but very poised and grown up.  I felt like a proud mama! *sniff*  Then I heard the way he oh-so-Britishly pronounced "innovative" and I orgasmed like the shameless hoor that I am.  (:36)

All in all, it was a lovely evening, filled with people winning things, including Kristen, so good on her!  A great time was had by all.  An even better time was had by these two after they ditched the after-party hoo-ha and went back to the hotel for some hoo-ha of a much more private nature.  Not that I would ever presume to imagine that there is anything untoward happening between these two sweet, though oft-hair-challenged, innocent young things.  I'm sure they never even dream of playing "Last one to turn the designer outfit into a bath mat is a rotten egg!"  back at the hotel.  Obviously that's just my pervy old imagination at work.  Hey, a gal can dream....

Today is Remember Me Trailer Day

Everybody show your support by posting it on your blog or site, tweeting, emailing, getting the word out!



Visit An Unofficial Remember Me site for Remember Me updates!
http://www.rememberme-film.com/

*insert your fantasy here*

All out of words.  Certainly not out of ideas....

Assume the position.

Wait, you want me to WHAT with these naked girls...for how long????

Sorry, Mum, I didn't know there would be all these naked girls, honestly!

I will never drink 3 six-packs of Heinies with whiskey chasers the night before a photo shoot ever again...I will never drink 3 six-packs of Heinies with whiskey chasers again.....

Ghost Typing (My Last Four Lives Gone in One Fell Swoop!)

Just a few scant hours ago, I made the mistake of wondering aloud what Rob might inadvertently do to end my last four fragile lives by the end of the day.  Silly me.  Does the boy ever disappoint?  I can't think of a single time.  Lo and behold, the following little nugget was found the size of a postage stamp on page 55 of the Details magazine Table of Contents. (Apparently the marketing geniuses had too many dirty martinis at lunch to figure out that this should have been a two-page, full-body-shot technicolor double-truck in the middle of the magazine, like a Playbold centerfold.)

(thank you, Cybermelli, for scanning and disseminating on Twitter!)

When I saw this pic, after taking a moment to recover, I immediately sent it to my peeps under the subtle warning, "HOLEE SHIT!!!!!!!"  The following ensued:

Amanda:  Someone needs to write my obituary, STAT!

Elizalou:  Oh fuck to be this model!!!!!!!!!! Goddamn!!

Me:  Seriously...I am...uhhhh....fuck.

DD:  Oh mother of all that is holy!!! Is this fucker in the magazine?????????

Kathy:  He doesn't look relaxed and I can't tell if he looks hard....

LoveTheLips:  OH MY GOD.  MY INNER PERV IS GOING CRAY-ZEE RIGHT NOW !!!!

DD:  Who the fuck picks the photos that are included in the magazine?????????????????? How could you NOT include this picture?????

Me:  I know...in a MEN'S magazine! sheesh.

Kathy:  Diana maybe it is in there...OMG I just slipped off my seat on this one.  It's like my fantasy come to life....and finally we get to see Rob in compromising positions even if it is with a model.

Me:  I seriously need the defib. My heart stopped.

DD:  You still have a heart?? Mine is on the floor.

Me:  Well, it started pounding like mad, so apparently it's still attached!

Kathy:  hahahaha I thought you were talking about your vagina.....LOL

Me:  If it had anything to pound right now, it would!

Amanda:  Shit, forget the heart! I totally lost my vagina. It's just exploded right the fuck off my body.

DD:  OMG ahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa    That is not a pretty picture.....

LoveTheLips:  LMFAO - i'm gonna wake the kids i'm laughing so fucking loud at this comment!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kathy:  LMFAO Amanda....I'm kinda thinking I need a moment alone with myself...LOL

Elizalou:  I appear to be lost in this fantasy world where my view is from atop Mt. Pattinson....

Kathy:  And that's prob one big fuckin' Mt too Liza!

Me:  "Mount Pattinson"....don't mind if I do!!!

Elizalou:  And notice how his hand is not relaxed at all... as if he's aching to reach up and grab her tit, or pull her face down to his.  Grrrr.. damn...

Me:  Auntapey on Twitter just pointed out how he's not touching her at all..."so awkwardly Rob" she said.

Kathy:  Totally....his body language says it all.....he looks stiff and uncomfortable...look at the way his chest is out...perhaps he's arching a little...trying to keep little robbie from poking through...although I highly doubt that this would do it if he was glad he was hung over.

DD:  Yes and that is probably why this pic is an outtake.  He was probably supposed to touch her - like take her hips or shoulders or something.  But this way it looks like he is trying to avoid touching her.  hahahahahahahaha  Totally Rob

Amanda:  Or he's trying really hard to tame his semi that's begging to appear.  He's probably distracted and silently naming baseball stats in his head to keep from involuntarily thrusting.  Batting averages.....oooh titties.....no no no......pitching speeds.....oooooh straddling my......no no no......don't touch........don't touch.

Elizalou:  hahahahah exactly!!!

Jala: Don't make me laugh, Amanda. Do you honestly think Rob knows anything about baseball stats?
That's too funny. I think he looks awkward because he's obviously having an allergic reaction.

Elizalou:  Yeap.. something was in dire need of friction...

Amanda:  Well that means Rob and I have something in common. Notice how I couldn't come up with anything more basebally than "batting averages" and "pitching speeds". I got nothin'. LOL.

Me:  Well, for him it would be European football stats but I get ya...and DAMMIT couldn't that model have freakin' moved her thigh outta the way so I could see Rob Junior???

Amanda:  I know, right? That selfish bitch!

LoveTheLips:  I don't care if he's picturing Margaret Thatcher naked to tame his hard-on....HE LOOKS FUCKING HOT IN THIS.

Elizalou:  Uhmm.... has anyone else noticed he's sporting an "i'm on the way to an O face?!" EH?  Uhm... No way in hell would I have been "hovering" over Rob like that. OH no.. if I was that model, I would have been lowering myself.. oh yes. Pfft.

Kathy: I def would've lowered my vajaja and gone right to it....

Mandy: That's it, as if I didn't have enough reasons to hate this woman.....she's tall, skinny and most likely gorgeous. But then she has the job of straddling Robert Pattinson. How in the hell did she get so damn lucky?

Janece:  Holy Toledo!!! Um, that man is NOT in pain there. Oh those dang models. and to think they spent the day with that man AND GOT PAID TO DO IT!!  There is NO justice in my life!

Shani:  Well Kris gets to fuck him and talk to him. Which neither one of the models got to do. So I say
the winner in all of this is her. LOL

Ahh....pearls of wisdom, there!  And now that Shani has brought me back to reality, I will take my ghost-typing self to bed, hoping that when I wake, I'll miraculously have nine lives to work with again tomorrow.  Knowing Rob, I'm gonna need 'em!

Only Four Lives Left

The latest Yahoo! Remember Me promotional video has surfaced, killing me in several inventive new ways when I (foolishly) assumed that Robler had already died me as much as was humanly possible. Thankfully I seem to have enough life left in my fingers to keep typing, so he has spared me this last.



(thanks TwilightBritneyFan!)

How Hast Robler Died Me? Let me count the ways:

A. Rob Speaks. *dies*
B. Rob's esteemed co-workers give him high praise (which warms the cockles of my heart. And as Woody Allen said, there's nothing like hot cockles!) *dies*
C. Robler touches Almilie's face and leans in for a kiss *dies*
D. Robler hovers over Almilie on the bed and looks like he might lean in for a kiss *dies*
E. Robler buttons/unbuttons (let's hope for the latter) his shirt *AND Leann is down for the count, stone dead for today*

I'm down to 4 lives now. Just waiting for Rob to inadvertently drop the blade some other way today. In the meantime, fingers keep on typing and searching the 'net for more lethal Robpoison, masochist that I am....

It's All Rob's Fault (aka the TMI, How Pathetic Is My Life, This Is What Happens When You Don't Have a Sweetheart on V-Day post)

Whenever I think about the remarkably unproductive state of my life, I always come back to the same inevitable conclusion:  It's All Rob's Fault.  It's sort of the mantra of the Rob Chain Gang, and is a convenient excuse for everything from social isolation to deplorable housecleaning habits to extreme child/significant other/pet neglect.  We're pretty sure that Child Protection Services or the crew from "Hoarders" is going to come knocking at our doors soon.

Exhibit A, a couple of the reasons I holed up in front of the computer for several days with a bottle of wine, a box of chocolates and a couple of "goody drawer" unmentionables:

WetRob.  Really, need I add anything else?  I think not.  In fact, I am planning an entire post concerning the charms of WetRob, and why he tends to make everyone around him wet as well.

Almost as good is NearlyWetRob.  Okay, so how many of you photoshopped your face over the model's in this pic, hrrmmmm?  Well, I haven't done it yet, but I'm pretty sure my dear friend Lizalou will hook a sistah up if I so desire.

Next Blog:  How Rob is Responsible for Global Warming (here's a hint:)

(because he is hotter than the sun, that's why!)

Pattinformation (or, Caca We Learned About Rob This Week!)

I tried to blog several times this week, only to be overwhelmed with all the Rob goodies that kept being released endlessly into the ethersphere like methane from a herd of Red Angus cattle.  (Sorry, I live in the midwest.)  Now that the gaseous emissions have disspated, I think I can distill the Pattinformation down to its essentials.

1.  Rob likes to go mantie-shopping with his best mate.

Nothing says "bromance for life" like shopping together when you run out of clean undies and your internet porn connection goes bad.

Only your BFF will come along with you and help you with the inevitable "basic black or neon stripe?" mantie dilemma, then help you choose which Twi-Porn DVD to giggle over ("Twidyke?" "Screw Moon?" how 'bout "Eclits?") with several six-packs of Heinie and a carton of filterless Camels.

(bonus for Leann:  Rob Shaved!  ...and a chorus of angels began singing)

2.  Rob gives good 19th Century.

If anyone can make the ubiquitous Seinfeld Puffy Shirt work, it's Georges DuRob.  He looks so manly, strutting along in his high-wasted chap-pants, billowy white man-blouse and poorly tied cravat. (Then again, maybe it's the 18-wheeler in the background that is adding the macho cred to this shot.)  How can Rob make flat, badly side-parted hair look hot?  Might as well ask why the sky is blue.  It just is.  (Please do not pipe up with information about light reflecting off of the earth's gasses; I've already had as much gas talk as I can stomach today.  And yeah, I know, I started it!)

Did people smoke Camels in the 1800s?  If DuRob looks this sexy doing it, I'm fine with a couple of authenticity faux pas.  Dammit, Rob, stop looking so damned sexy killing yourself!

 

3.  Rob carries his own T.P. to the loo.

My dear friend Jala calls this a "bog roll," which I find even funnier than the photo of Rob carrying it.  I wonder if, being born and bred in London as Jala was, Rob also calls the bathroom a "bog?"  I picture some sort of hideous crap-hole a la "The Young Ones" (a British comedy from the 80s which is so wholly disgusting that I urge you to go check it out on youtube immediately.)  All I know is, I thought Rob was finally doing a movie with a big enough budget so that he would not be forced to haul his own buttwipes around with him.  But that's Rob for you:  unafraid to buy his own boxer-briefs in public AND let the world know he produces methane emissions, all in the same week!  (I certainly hope the two aren't related....)  (AND apparently there's a blog theme here which I can't seem to shake.)

4. Rob loves bitches.

A boy and his dog!  Or somebody's dog.  We have many times heard Rob wax poetic about his longtime pet Patty, to the point where he recently told Details magazine that the only relationship of any relevance in his life is the one he has/had with his dog.  (Were the rumors of little Patty's death greatly exaggerated?)  I'm sure Rob's human loved ones were thrilled to hear this little nugget spill from Rob's impossible-to-muzzle mouth.  Thank goodness they know how full of methane-producing matter he is, or they might take it literally and he'd be in the proverbial dog house.

All I know is that THIS is the luckiest (and smartest) bitch in the world:

(Lucky Bitch:  "It's true!  His poo does smell like roses!")   ed. note:  nod to Roblivious

5.  Rob likes to go commando at inappropriate moments.

At the Oscars, for instance.  (I say this as if free-ballin' Rob is a bad thing.  Far from it!  Let's just say, I hope that tux wasn't rented.  And if it was, it would have been sold to me some perve on ebay by now.)

Or, in a beach scene in his First Big Movie In Which He Isn't Edward Cullen.  (See the :24 mark below.)  As Jittzpattzing pointed out to me, there is definite "jiggling junk" when Emilie pushes him back in the sand.  Apparently I was too busy being turned on by the raging testosterone in that audio-enhanced punch Robler threw at :11 to notice the balls that actually created said testosterone.  Jittz was kind enough to send me a gif of the junk jiggle so that I could study it "at length," and let's just say, I would welcome the opportunity to help Rob get rid of the jiggle from his junk...you know, firm it up with some Tantric sex yoga.  (I would post the gif here if I could figure out a way to do it, but I am far too techtarded to accomplish such a feat.)

There were two Remember Me scenes and a new trailer released this week.  Each of them made me ruin at least a half a dozen perfectly good eggs by spontaneously ovulating at the sight of him in action.  So, #5 1/2 is, Rob causes spontaneous ovulation.  Except this is nothing new; he's been doing that since puberty, I would imagine, and many women have attested to this amazing ability over the past 18 months or so.

6.  Rob says really dumb things like "I'm allergic to vajayjays!" when he's had several beers and is being interviewed by a good friend.

Honestly, I have no desire to weigh in on the Details interview with screenwriter Jenny Lumet, who re-wrote the Remember Me script and had a few laughs with Rob in a pub, the results of which will be in the next issue of Details magazine.  The hoopla over Rob's art photos with nude models has now been eclipsed (sorry) by his oddball comments about hating vaginas, prompted by his discomfort over the 12-hour-long photo shoot with naked strangers.  Better yet, this was juxtaposed with a story of the wonderful experience Rob had being fondled by a trained elephant while in talks for the upcoming film version of "Water For Elephants." And let's not forget the afore-mentioned comments about his dog being the true love of his life.  Oh, and he also went on a tangent about disfiguring diseases, a couple of which do bizarre and painful things to a man's genitals, just to keep things interesting. These comments are creating a bit of a media shitstorm (there's that blasted blog theme again!) by those who love to misunderstand the context of Rob's comments, and the tone and intent in which they were delivered.

 Bottom line is, many people won't get Rob's off-the-wall sense of humor, or pick up on his dry British wit.  Instead, they will think Rob is gay / into bestiality / in need of psychiatric counseling.  All I can say is, "this too shall pass."  I just hope it doesn't turn Rob even more paranoid and afraid to speak his mind for fear of detrimental consequences.  His refreshing candor is one of the things I love most about him.  And his inventive, off-the-rails brain is the sexiest thing about him, IMO.

On the upside, the resulting schmexy Details video may have swayed a non-believer to the dark side!  I sent the following to my BFF from college, who called to leave me the following message, in a hot-and-bothered tone of voice:  "So I watched that Robert Pattinson video you sent me...?  Okay, so I kinda see why you think he's so hot now.  Nice porn!"  ;)   My work here is done.