Coltish hair-tosser Kristen Stewart has some choice words for her haters (us) in Vanity Fair‘s July cover story, and they support her description of herself as “a weirdo, creative Valley girl who smokes pot.” Well, at least that last part, anyway.
On the topic of her critics in the media, the sentient flannel had this to say:
“I have been criticized a lot for not looking perfect in every photograph. I get some serious shit about it. I’m not embarrassed about it. I’m proud of it. If I took perfect pictures all the time, the people standing in the room with me, or on the carpet, would think, What an actress! What a faker! That thought embarrasses me so much that I look like shit in half my photos, and I don’t give a fuck. What matters to me is that the people in the room leave and say, ‘She was cool. She had a good time. She was honest.’ I don’t care about the voracious, starving shit eaters who want to turn truth into shit. Not that you can say that in Vanity Fair!”
That’s at least four different uses of the word shit, each time with a slightly different meaning. She also uses it later in the piece to refer to couture clothing lent to her by designers. She really is creative, after all!
On the reals, though, I don’t actually hate Kristen Stewart. The worst thing I can say about her is that she seems kind of boring and normal, and that I’m tired of reading about her all the time. This is more the fault of the media than anything, as she certainly isn’t publishing articles about herself. I don’t think she’s even necessarily ungrateful for the opportunities she’s been given, as most of her negativity has been directed towards the side effects of a successful acting career (i.e. fame and haterz), rather than, say, Stephenie Meyer. Nevertheless, it might behoove her to employ a bit more tact when doing press for her movies. There’s a fine line between “keeping it real” and just being downright terrible at one aspect of your job.
You also have to remember that Kristen Stewart is still quite young, and not everyone is naturally blessed with the gift of PR skills. I’d flesh out this lukewarm defense, but there’s a big, tasty chunk of shit in the fridge that’s simply screaming my name.
(Via Vanity Fair)