Robert Pattinson gets Style Tips from Tom Criuse For MTV movie awards!

This is just too awesome.  Can't wait for the MTV Movie awards!  

MTV Shows

I Play Pattin' Pattinson!

Okay…Here we go again.

Our sweet boy was on the Ellen show.  Sporting his new buzzed hair, free of nits.  Still quite delicious.

So, I gotta ask… Where are these talk show producers scraping up these so-called fans??

Clearly this Aussie girl was NOT one.

Where my fan-girls at!!

The game starts at around the 2:00 mark

Here is how it would have went down if I were the one in the audience picked.

Oooh goody.  I'm gonna get groped by Donna

Ellen calls me down by name.  And obviously I had no idea this was going to happen so I am shocked and my heart is pounding.  But still cool and calm as I make my way quickly down the steps.

I realize at this point, Rob is being ushered off the stage, but for a brief moment we are there together, and I keep my eyes on HIM the entire time.  I would not be looking at Ellen, like this halfwit.

By this time, his wardrobe choices and shoes would be burned into my brain, because like all fans, we wondered what he would be wearing beforehand.  So I took it all in during the interview part.

Okay, Oxfordy shoes, not the Adidas Sambas, his current trainers of choice.  check.

I introduce myself, blah, blah, blah.  I‘m sure my face is so red hot right now, it looks purple and most likely it hurts from smiling so hard, but I still don’t freak.

Bummer, I can’t touch his face or hair.  Okay, sucks for me, but not a problem. 

“What about his neck?  Can I touch his neck?” I clarify.

Can I put my fingers in his mouth???

We’ll go with “yes” on that. (the neck, not the mouth)

Blindfold goes on, my heart pounds in my ears, and I mentally prepare for what I am looking for.

So apparently she only had 30 seconds and everyone was screaming.  Just a little pressure.

I will first give you the 1^st scenario, where there is no time limit.

So, the Melbourne Moron,  lit-rally “Pats” Pattinson.  
What the Fuck is that?  She looked like she was frisking him for weapons at the airport.  Amateur.

Sir, please step aside.  We need to frisk you.

Nope.  No weapons of mass destruction in his socks.

If it were me, I would touch everywhere and get my face up real close to his.  I start on the shoulders and caress slowly up his neck.  Feel for the moles under his ears.  Using my thumbs, trace the jaw line.  (I technically haven’t touched his face or hair, so we’re cool)

Mind my fingers. That jawline is Sharp!

Then retrace back down to his tummy.  
Note: Rob does NOT have Edward-like marble, six-pack abs.  It should be a little mushy.  He always talks about his potbelly, which I am sure has since become a little beer belly. 

Reach around to the non-ass and give a little squeeze. check.

There's a tushy there somewhere

Feel down further his legs, making sure to discreetly graze the place that he once tucked his “Dali.”  I keep my back to the camera making sure to block myself doing this, so that the angry uptight Twi-fans and Robsten-fans don’t get all self-righteous and uppity about molesting him.  blah, blah, blah.

Do a quick feel of the shoes and make your way back up. check.

Then I would grab hold of those fingers and lace mine with his and probably do a naughty little hand gesture in his, like stroking a finger up and down. (discreetly of course)

Once I got back up to facing him, I would put my face as close as possible to his.  Mouth just centimeters from his and inhale his scent, before placing a very soft kiss on his lips.

nom nom nom

Hey, Ellen didn’t say I couldn’t touch his face with my mouth.  Just my hands!

Repeat with other 2 guys.

Hey, the way I figure it, even if I did break the rules, and forfeit the win, at least I felt up Robert Pattinson and kissed him.  Who cares if I don’t get to go to the premiere.  It’ll be a mad house there anyway. And it’s not like I’m not gonna see the movie five or eleven times in the theater.

So either way… I win!

Okay

Scenario #2 

I really only have 30 seconds.   Pressure!  Hurry!

Do a quick feel of the neck and then the fingers.  Bend his fingers all the way back.  The guy who doesn’t scream in pain is Rob.  Because he clearly has no bones in his hands.

mmmm. sooo bendy

By the time I am starting on the 3^rd guy, I hear Rob giggle.  
I stop dead in my tracks, my head snaps in the direction the beautiful sound just like the Velociraptor in “Jurassic Park.”  Clever Girl.  

and... There’s my guy!

Most likely I will pick correctly and once the reveal was made, I would wrap my arms around him for a good hug.  Being the gentleman that he is, Rob will hug back.  Especially after the rub down, finger fondle and kiss I am sure he will never let go.  And neither will I.  
He then takes me out for dinner and a long session of ….. lemons.

But if God forbid, for some reason I picked the wrong guy.   I would not, I repeat, I WOULD NOT, like this lame brain fan, stay next to the PA guy and introduce myself to him like I just won him on the “Dating Game.”

eeeek. Bad touch! Bad touch!

Really, this chick didn’t even look at Rob until he came over to her.  What. The. FUCK!  She needs to hop on her kangaroo and bounce back down-under before we find her and set her straight!

I don’t blame Australia in all this; after all they gave us the beautiful Emilie DeRavin to loosen him up sex scene wise.

But this bird has to go.  BAD FAN!  You should be ashamed.

Don't worry boo.  I would have found you.

Photos and Video courtesy of @Pilineasalways and @ROBsessedBlog

Not A Twi-Mom!

Yesterday Oprah had a fantastic episode dedicated to “Twilight Saga” and their fans.  It’s a “Pheee-nomenon.”  I can’t wait for “Eeeeclipse” (said with the accent over the “E”). 

I loved most of it.  I can never get enough of Rob’s adoreable giggle.

But one thing bothered me.

WTF Ali Wentworth - "why the face"

Don’t call me a Twi-Mom!

Seriously people.  What is the deal with tacking the “mom” onto the back of any interest you have.  Just because you have kids.

Yes.  I am a Mother.  Yes.  I have children.  But what do they have to do with my "Twilight" obsession?

I can’t think of a thing.

A Soccer-Mom is a mother of a soccer player.  It means she is on the sidelines while the kid plays soccer.  She brings the snacks, drives to practice and cheers at the games.

A Band-Mom is the mother of a kid who is in the music program or marching band or maybe in a real rock band or something.

Same goes for a “Insert University of Choice here” – Mom.  Or Whatever!! You get my point!

My kids are not the ones who love “Twilight.”  I AM!  I just don’t get the terminology.

Is it a thing where, above all things, I am a mother.  It almost sounds like they are explaining or sort of apologizing for their behavior.  Like, “I know this is weird for me to like something for myself, because, you know, ‘I’m a Mom and I’m only supposed to be devoted to my kids but I really love Edward.”  What the Fuck is that??

Daddy likes to play Golf, but nobody calls him a “Golf-Dad.”  Or a “New York Giants-Dad”  They are golfers or Giants’ fans.

I had two problems with the Oprah Twi-Mom segment of the show.

1^st-  Was Ali Wentworth condescending or what!!??  
She said first off, “I don’t get the obsession, blah, blah, blah.”  Okay that’s fine.  You don’t have to.  But she made those little passive aggressive remarks that I know were supposed to be funny, but kinda sounded judgy.  The strawberry thing. 

Then getting the kids to rat out their moms for “liking Edward more than them.”  Way to throw in some Mommy-guilt.

And, the whole part about loving Henry Kissinger.  Whuh!!  What was that about.  Are you saying you’re too smart for this?  Even Rob, Kristen and Taylor looked a little insulted at her saying, she still didn’t get it, “you kids are not my cup of tea.”  Way to treat your guests that just doubled your ratings.

2^nd- Did those ladies really have to go the whole T-shirt wearing, monthly-meeting, let’s scrapbook Twi-stuff route.

Walking the “red-carpet?”  Reallly!!!??  (Said Seth & Amy style)

Way to make Mothers look like FREAKIN Morons people!  My second hand embarrassment was off the chart for that lot.

Fancy Schmancy. You've outdone yourself again, Doris

I saw your fancy “Southern Loving at Home” cake plate with the "Eclipse" countdown gracefully written on it with a coordinating red ribbon.  It was a bit to Martha for me.  So was the red Cosmo or Martini or what ever the fuck that was in the glass.  
And maybe Ali Wentworth was right.  Just a little too much effort was put into those strawberries.  That little soiree looked a little too “Women’s League” for me.

Waaay too much effort. Time should be spent reading "MoBS"

Where the hell was the beer and Naa-chos?

And no, my love of Twilight is not a “safe” crush.  It is not innocent.  I don’t want Edward to sneak into my room, and hold me till I fall asleep. 

I want him to do naughty, naughty things to me.

I want to fuck Robert Pattinson so hard, his head explodes!

They can have their safe fantasy while not cheating. 

Seriously people!  If R-Pattz even showed the slightest interest, I would leave with him so fast and not look back your head would spin. 

Not “safe.”  Not “innocent.”  Not “faithful.”

And I wonder if just one of those Twi-Mom sluts had one too many grenadine infused cocktails, would not say the same thing?

Would the other Moms become Judgy McJudgersons and tsk tsk at her.  Or would they agree and rip off their Hot Topic T-shirts to reveal their LaPerla lingerie and take pictures with the Edward Cardboard cutout between their legs.

So forgive me if I sound bitter.  I guess it’s a good thing, none of my bloggy friends wound up on Oprah to explain her level of passion.

Or the real truth would come out.  The smutty fan fiction.  The sparkly dildos.  The Edward panties.  The Twitarded trip to FORKSSSSSS!

Please “Twi-Moms” for the sake of the rest of us Fans with kids.  Cut the crap!  Call yourself what you really are.

I am a Twi-H00R And I am Proud!

Look...I made Kristen laugh.  Not an easy feat.

"Eclipse" Soundtrack released. David Slade really *is* a dark, wee little man.

The Twilight Saga: Eclipse staring Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewert and Taylor Lautner  doesn’t open until June 30th, but the film’s soundtrack is being released today.  It seems some family groups are offended over some of the song choices. Is the content really inappropriate, or are parents simply out of touch with the youth of today?

Here’s an exclusive list of songs from the soundtrack. Take a look and judge for yourself.

   .   “Real N****z Don’t Die” – NWA

   .   “Closer” – Nine Inch Nails

   .   “This is the New Shit” – Marilyn Manson

   .   “What What: In the Butt” – Samwell

   .   “StarFucker” – The Rolling Stones

   .   “Gimme That Nut” -  Eazy E

   .   “Slob On My Knob” – Three 6 Mafia

   .   “Party in the USA” – Miley Cyrus

   .   “High ‘Til I Die (Eclipse Remix)” – Tupac

   .   “Necropedophile” – Cannibal Corpse

   .   “Jesus Hitler” – Carnivore

   .   “Neutron Star Collision (Love is Forever)” – Muse

Just Somewhere to Nuzzle

So, today I put forth a plea on Twitter:

@CupcakeDonna: I suck at blogging. Somebody..ANYBODY..give me a topic to write about. Don't be vague. Just saying "Rob Pattz" is not enough. HELP!

One of the responses I got was from the lovely @Stefter

@Stefter: is "the beauty that is RPattz's neck" too vague?

Absolutely NOT!!  It is what we all dream about… right?

Well, that and so many different parts of him!  After all…he is perfection.

So here goes:

The Beauty that is.....  Robert Pattinson’s Neck.

(note: this may or may not include parts attached to said neck.  i.e. jaw, clavicle, ears.  We’ll see how far we get this session.)

*~*~*~*~*

Some girls like chests, others like a great ass, some prefer arms, I prefer the forearm.  I always have.  It has something to do with a certain Rick Springfield poster that used to hang in my room when I was a teenager.  But I digress…

One of the sexiest parts of a man is the the neck. The curve of his jawline, especially as he laughs or swallows, subtly moving his Adam's apple... purrrrrrr.... that really puts me in overdrive.

A good neck is tricky area.  A neck too thick and it can be a deal-breaker. A neck too thin looks like E.T. and that’s just weird.

But Robert Pattinson’s neck is just...well... perfect.  

Just the right length and thickness.  (chill, I AM talking about his neck here).

And the hair tapers down just perfectly.  (again…still talking about his neck…focus!)

Hmmm. now that I think about it, a discussion on “little Rob” might not be a bad idea. ….maybe next time.

So, where was I?  Oh right.  As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted by my own perversion, Rob’s neck is Perfect. 

It is alluring and enticing all on its own.  On his right side he’s got an adorable mole just at the hair line.  On his left he’s got two, that look like a vampire bite. grrrr.

So many times I have wondered what it would be like to nuzzle up under the side of his perfect square jaw.  Just between under his ear lobe and sniff.   How would he smell?  Like beer and sweat.  Naw, not likely.  Just the perfect blend of ciggie and masculine musk.  Now that’s what I’m talkin bout.

@Stefter says “I'd love nothing more than to dip my tongue into the hollow at the base of his neck and slowly lick up over his Adam's apple and continue on to his jaw, which hopefully has just the right amount of scruff to tickle my tongue...”

Wouldn't we all ladies?  Wouldn’t. We. All.

Okay. Now a Public Service Announcement for you Rob…

So the neck is a very unprotected spot.  There are no bones that go all the way around. Ask Sarah Silverman.  She’s a big “Protect Your Neck” activist!  And she says we should wear wooden mittens to protect our throats. 

I don’t want anything happening to that perfect spot, Rob.  I will start on your mittens today.  I think they will go quite nicely with the beanie and sexpenders.  

Not weird at all!

Think about it.

In the mean time.  Some drool worthy neck pictures.  Enjoy h00rs!

bobbing for Adam's apples anyone?

Probably the most swoon worthy jaw and neck porn

I see a perfect little hollow to put rest my weary tongue     

  

Dali Neck

Imagine looking up at this. 

 

Even "Drunk Neck" is perfection

In case you were wondering about my previously stated forearm fixation...It was caused by this...

(always,...Rick)

What's your Rob-Neck fantasy?  Jaw..lobes..etc..

Let us know!!!

It's a bit...meh.

How can they see with sequins in their eyes?

This thing has gone remiss.   So I have been quite a bit lax as far as my much neglected blog goes.

I mean seriously, I haven't even taken the time to properly decorate the thing.

I frequent many, many blogs on all different subjects, and they are beautiful.  They are dazzling.  They are superbly embellished.

Mine is blue.

I promise you and myself that I will take the time to make a semi-awesome banner.  Or a semi-mediocre banner.  Maybe some cool RPattz blinky things for the sides.

I don't know.  I guess the road to mediocrity is paved with good intentions.

I also need to up my game with regular posts.  Once a month is just not cutting it!

I am sucking at this.  Sorry.

I'll throw you a fake and a finagle,
You'll never know I'm just....a bagel.

In which a Mother has an Identity Crisis

For many years, I had become seated in this thing called motherhood.  It suited me.  It was an insignificant lifestyle.   It was nothing unusual or extraordinary.  I was content with being concealed in mediocrity.   I was living a rather mundane existence.   

In this sort of existence you start have your identity questioned.  Sometimes by others.  But mostly by yourself.  The world views you differently.  Your husband views you differently.  You view yourself differently.  How do you find the essence of who you truly are within the role of being a mother?

My youngest child is in his last year of elementary school.  It is excruciatingly sad to say goodbye to the young child and have them replaced with an older one that doesn’t really need you to do stuff for them. 

I found a pack of photos from about 10 years ago.  I don’t think I had even looked at them since they were first developed.  I had absolutely no recollection of taking them.  I just sat there looking at the photos of my children.  They were familiar ghosts of a past I don’t remember going away.  Who were these adorable little creatures?  It’s like they just disappeared off the face of the earth.  I never even had a chance to say good-bye.  Will this same thing happen in another 10 years?  Me looking back at pictures of my teenaged children and wondering where they are?

You can’t control life.  You can’t control your kids growing up.  You can’t control your neighborhood and where you are supposed to feel safe at home.  You can’t control time passing.  So either you fight against it and bristle in the face of it or you try to make peace with it and accept it.  –And try to find a way to live with it and some aspects of it.

A mother of young children is completely consumed with them and the identity of mother can fill many of the holes or gaps of your former self.  It’s so all consuming.  You go underground for years.  You are clearly devoted to motherhood and yet your children are secretly aging out of the intensive need. 

This is where I find myself now.  Forced to find myself.  I am suddenly looking around like I have woken from a coma saying, “wait!, where am I?  How did I get here?  When did I last do something important?  What now?”

I am full of loss but also seeking to find something.  I fell down a rabbit hole in my early 20’s and all of a sudden I am asking, “How the HELL did I get HERE?  What the hell happened to my body and my face???”

Sure, it’s magical and all that shit, but it’s a constant mind-fuck, identity crisis?  The result of my contentedness?  An uncertainty in what I have to offer.  My hiatus from ‘me’ resulted in a lack of confidence.  Doubt exudes from my pores. 

All mothers, working or stay-at-home, become frustrated by the loneliness of motherhood.  It’s classic to lose yourself in the petty details.  You get so caught up in the frustrations and pressures of daily life.  Small and insignificant things that really seem like no big deal, like sorting socks or folding underwear.  But they start to chip away at your soul.  This chipping away diminishs your ability to focus on almost anything else.  Bigger things, like ideas, or goals or dreams.

So Donna, why such a downer?  What do you learn at the end of the day? It’s so hard to put in a nutshell.  You learn to anchor yourself and know that somehow you are appreciated.  Accept where you are and accept yourself again.

I owe it to myself and my family to feel complete and believe in myself as being more than ‘just a mom’  and to not feel guilty from stringing the words ‘just’ and ‘mom’ together.  I yearn to have a bigger purpose. 

This is where Donna gets her Groove Back.  (Cue the music)