I’m only human. When I’m in a big city and see whores lined up or camped out, I have to ask someone why in case they’re handing out free shit. I’m wondering – would I be able to keep from rolling my eyes in this case? I’d ask what was what to a round and sweaty woman in a t-shirt that reads “THAT CUNT” over a doctored photo depicting Kristen Stewart with nose leprosy, and she would tell me she was camping out for Robert Pattinson. My hands would have to be firmly holding my eyeballs in their sockets against their will. LET US ROLL, MUTHAFUCKA!
Sad Vampire is appearing at the MoMA tonight for a screening of his flick “Cosmopolis”, and Page Six sez that Twihards have been setting up a tent town to await him. A tent town that smells of fanaticism, premature panty pudding, and bootleg Immortal Twilight (the bottle reads “Old It’s Dark Out”). It’s his first appearance since love died.
MoMA officials aren’t enthused about desperate crazies from the suburbs frantically waving glitter-sprinkled signs reading “I’D NEVER LET ANOTHER VAMPIRE EAT ME OUT IN THE FRONT SEAT OF A MINI-COOPER IF I WAS YOUR GIRLFRIEND,EDWARD!” in front of their fine museum. Word is they might have their security people shovel the sidewalk out front.
They probably should. What if Pattinson shows up with his refuge owner Reese Witherspoon? It only takes one Twihard mom to scream “GET HER” and then the barricades will be a faint memory and suddenly there’s bloody pieces of Tracy Flick everywhere.