Kristen Stewart Still Thinks Being Famous Is The Absolute Worst

April 29, 2015 / Posted by:

Well, it looks like the never-ending after school slap fight between Kristen Stewart and the general idea of being famous is still going strong. In case you haven’t gathered from the fact that Kristen Stewart flips the paps off every chance she gets and has compared fame to being raped, she doesn’t exactly love being famous. In fact, she thinks it’s the worst. Like, the worst worst. To put it into context, picture Jean-Ralphio Saperstein screaming “The wooooorst” into the world’s largest megaphone, then times that by 1 billion. KStew admitted in this month’s issue of Harper’s Bazaar UK (via Daily Mail/EW) that there is really nothing worse than being famous, and swats at everyone who would want to be.

“Fame is the worst thing in the world. Especially if it’s pointless. When people say ‘I want to be famous’ – why? You don’t do anything.”

How RUDE!” hissed Kim Kardashian, Courtney Stodden, every single Real Housewife, and Miss Fame from RuPaul’s Drag Race (but only because she didn’t listen to the whole quote and took it as a read).

KStew’s thoughts on fame are sort of subjective. Personally, I think the worst thing in the world is when you eat something questionable during a road trip from a sketchy Kum & Go and spend the next 9 hours desperately pleading with your butthole to keep everything on the inside of your body. But that’s just me. Maybe fame is KStew’s road trip diarrhea?

She also had thoughts on other things, including sexism and sex scenes. Suggestion: chug two Monsters and snort a line of instant coffee, because picturing KStew doing the horizontal indifference hump WILL put you to sleep.

On red carpets being SUCH a chore:
Having that much human energy thrust at you and then being critically analysed is obviously disarming. Control issues make me so nervous. It’s not knowing what’s going to happen. So what people were seeing was what happens when you are terrified. My palms sweat, my knees shake, I don’t think I can stand in my heels, I’m breathing heavily, I feel nauseous. I’ll be so nervous and then my body creates something to calm me down and I get so tired I’ll just…’ and she slumps over the table.

On pussies getting less respect than penises in Hollywood:
Women inevitably have to work a little bit harder to be heard. Hollywood is disgustingly sexist. It’s crazy. It’s so offensive it’s crazy.

On describing Karl Lagerfeld exactly as he told her to in an attempt to appear human, thus silencing the long-standing rumor that he’s actually a Men In Black-style cockroach alien in a human suit:
As an outsider, I thought, ‘He’s probably insanely pretentious’; but he’s the opposite of what you’d assume. He’s funny and quick and can talk to you about anything, from film stock to Roman fountains, or completely nail a photographer or break down a situation quite candidly.

On getting her on-camera fuck on:
I only hate them when they’re contrived. That’s when it’s grotesquely uncomfortable. On Twilight we had to do the most epic sex scene of all time. It had to be transcendent and otherworldly, inhuman, better sex than you can possibly ever imagine. We were like, ‘How do we live up to that?’ It was agony. Which sucks, because I wanted it to be so good.”

On throwing shade at actresses who do a tits-out scene in a movie:
I just even question when a fairly established actress finally does a scene on a movie when she shows her boobs and she hasn’t done it up until this moment, and maybe she only did it for the prestigious part and it’s OK for this time because it’s classy, and I’m like, ‘Oh God, thank you for revealing to the world your treasure.’

Then she lit a hand-rolled cigarette using a match she struck off the bottom of her shoe, and added “Shrug shrug whatever over-it mopey-mope-mope shrug apathy bored shrug.

And if the cover image of KStew in pastel Daisy Buchanan box social drag didn’t give you a severe case of “Sorry, have we met?“, here’s more of KStew looking like she’s counting down the milliseconds till she is able to rip off all that couture and slide back into her dirty black jeans and favorite damp-in-the-pits vintage t-shirt:

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