Last week, we were just starting to feel sorry for Robert Pattinson, upon whose screen-printed face sat far too many synched-up, undoubtedly menstruating females. As if that weren’t enough to deal with, RPattz has (begrudgingly) begun his lengthy New Moon promotional hike, for which he’s given an interview to Vanity Fair. So far, this is my most favourite excerpt:

Rather than working his way through supermodels, Pattinson, who’s been living out of three suitcases for the past year, has been feeling overwhelmed, self-conscious, and guilty. “I’m trying not to drown,” he says in his hotel room at the San Diego Hard Rock Hotel, which is littered today with beer bottles, old scrambled eggs, a half-eaten Twix bar, and a dirty pair of jeans on the living-room floor. And he notices that he hasn’t made his bed. “Oh, God. Sorry about that.”

“I’m unbearably self-conscious about stuff,” he admits. To the point where, while filming scenes before the army of New York paparazzi that has been following him around, he is terrified that his “ass crack is showing.”

Oh, RPattz crackage would be a veritable paparazzi goldmine, and this sort of fear is actually rather endearing to read. Unfortunately, the interview also predictably highlights the clichéd sentiment of a bloke who despises fame so much that he’d rather hang out with a bottle of booze. Or, as Vanity Fair phrases it, that RPattz never goes clubbing but, instead, “would prefer to curl up with a good book.” Now, this specific tidbit was specifically engineered to send female nesting hormones into overdrive. It actually reminds me a lot of the “imagined intelligence” element of the Jordan Catalano (Jared Leto, who used to be hot too) phenomenon, which I once discussed at Pajiba:

High school crushes often do base themselves on how a guy leans against his locker and how he closes his eyes a lot, like it hurts to look at things. After Angela pines for months over her version of Jordan, she is dismayed when his reality doesn’t even come close. Jordan doesn’t say anything even remotely romantic when he’s about to kiss her. Instead, it turns out something like this: “You know those guys … up in the mountains? Who make snow, like, like, as their job? I would really like to do that.” Jordan also writes a song called “Red” that sounds as if it was written for Angela, but it’s really about his car. Hell, Jordan can’t even spell Angela’s name correctly. Jordan Catalano is perfectly in sync with the gorgeous yet brainless type that appeals to so many girls.

You know, I wonder if RPattz has sparklecrack. I guess we’ll never know, but here are some scans from the December issue of Vanity Fair, which feature RPattz doing (among other things) the patented Jordan Catalano lean: