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.