Month: September 2012

Casting Ana Steele

Who will play Ana Steele in the upcoming Fifty Shades of Grey movie?

This is a very powerful role. Ana is the most beguiling, charming, strong, intelligent, and ambitious woman on the planet.

Wait…what the fuck did I just write? (Thanks Le Clown for freeing me)

Christian Grey says those adjectives a bajillion times in the trilogy, but in no instances do we ever see these qualities in Miss Steele. (To read my recraps, click here) Instead we know that Ana is always “wet and ready” and she can come on Christian’s command, and she reads, and she is a brunette, and, she thinks “Holy crap” ad infinitum, and she judges other women, and she thinks Christian only likes her because he’s “fifty shades fucked up” and she sometimes walks around with vaginal balls in her “down there.”

A couple of names have been tossed about. (For Christian casting, click here) I believe they are all Emma or Emily, and I believe they have last names that distinguish them. But frankly, they will never do the part justice.*

*Full disclosure: I searched for Ana Steele casting on the Internetz and I fell asleep so I’m making most of this up.

Ana responds to commands and Scooby snacks quite well. It makes one surmise that maybe this actress should take the part:

You are right, Lassie. You actually save people–and not with your magical dog vagina.

A dog is a good choice, but perhaps one that is more slobbery and dum. Like Odie from the comic Garfield. Odie continually gets kicked off the table by Garfield, but always comes back for more.

Sorry Odie, no offense.

Maybe the ideal candidate is one that is not actually life-like, but truly encompasses the essences of Anabella Steele.

Here are my top five picks

5. A wet piece of bread.

What can one do with a wet piece of bread? Nothing.

Totally nailed it.

4.  A pair of holey underwear.

Many times, Christian pokes his fingers through Ana’s underwear and they disintegrate (the underwear, not his fingers). This seems like ideal casting. The underwear is partially gone. It chaffs one’s ass. It’s annoying as lasagna-eating cat. It has no value.

Bingo.

3. A used tissue

Yup.

2. The watery stuff that shoots out of the ketchup bottle that makes one curse because it’s gross and who the fuck wants that slimy shit on one’s hamburger.

I call this Ketchup Spooge. The same thing I call Ana Steele.

1. E.L. James

Yes, Dr. Frankenstein, you have created a monster. A monster you should play. A monster, I think, you want to play. Have at it, you gajillionaire hack.

Next up: brain transplants.

Casting Call: Christian Grey

Who will portray the venerable protagonists Ana Steele and Christian Grey in the upcoming Fifty Shades of Grey movie?

This has been quite the guessing game with such actors like Matt Bomer and Ian Somerhalder being bandied about for the part of the dashing and enigmatic Christian Grey. Frankly I don’t think either will do the part justice.*

*Full disclosure: I have no idea who either person is.

I feel I know Christian intimately from reading all three books in the trilogy (for recraps, click here). I know he smolders. I know he curls his lips and arches his brow. I know he wears his pants off his hips in just that way. I know he likes to stick his fingers in various holes to check Ana’s humidity.

To portray Christian Grey, one must possess the charm of Girls Gone Wild magnate Joe Francis, the brawn of performer Chris Brown and the soul of former Hogwarts’ student Voldemort.

I think it’s obvious that Hugo is the clear choice to take on this role.

Unfortunately Hugo is busy with other projects. He is starring as Mrs. Pearce in a local production of My Fair Lady.

But there are still several other worthy candidates to delve into the fifty shades of fuckupity that makes Christian Grey so fascinating.*

*Full disclosure: I do not know what fascinating means.

I present my top five choices:

5. Mr. Potato Head

First of all, try to name someone hotter. Didn’t think so. Second, he possesses the capabilities of being able to raise his eyebrows and curl his lips by the simple act of inserting the correct pieces. His arms have Christian’s talon-fingers-like quality. And B, when he wore pants, it would make sense that Ana comments on this fact 5,346 times (in the first book alone) since the pants would swim around his blue shoes.

4. Mr. Peanut

Mr. Peanut is wealthy as evidenced by his sexy monocle. He is an icon in the peanut industry much in the same manner Christian Grey is an icon in his bullshit made up company of nonsense. He also tastes salty, and I’ve just been informed by Ana that is exactly how Christian tastes. And he’s nuts. Just envision the tagline on the movie poster: Is Ana’s magical vag strong enough to crack his shell?

3. A bottle of Axe Body Spray

Ana is always stupiding about Christian smelling like Christian-smell. I interpret that to mean Axe Body Spray. Commercials have led me to believe that women cannot resist the smell of cheap cologne mixed with sweaty desperation, and nearly every woman (except the lesbians) in the books go limp in the panties at the sight of Christian Grey. My only quibble is that the bottle should be completely gray. Get it? Get it? Yeah, I don’t either.

2. Ted Bundy as played by Mark Harmon since Ted Bundy is dead

I think it’s pretty obvious that Christian Grey hates women, yes? Oops! I mean he loves them. *Sigh* He is so dreamy especially in the way he abuses loves Ana. I do think there’s a 98% chance that he’s likely killed a few of his submissives “accidentally,” for example accidentally dropping the cattle prod into the bathtub. But I’m sure he did it in a really charming, sexy way so no biggie. Tee-hee!

1. Nosferatu

He is the total package. He’s rich. His fingers are actually claws–not just talon-like. He is as sexy as a package of Necco wafers coated in asbestos. He sparkles. . . wait I’ve just been informed that is not a characteristic of real vampires. And he kills people. This is Christian Grey, people. Sign this man…er…monster up. That’s a wrap!

Next up: Who will portray the grease stain that is Ana Steele?

Last Le Duel in the Le Blog Le Duel

For some reason, WordPress’s reblogging button is proving to be as stubborn as a catheter in retirement center orgy. This sentence will make more sense when you read the glorious post by Sips of Jen and Tonic over on Le Clown’s blog.

This is what I tried to reblog:

The last entry in the Le Blog Duel and it’s a duel-zzy. You have to understand, Jen and Tonic is a diabolical mastermind genius person and this post is a masterpiece of diabolical mastermind genius personism. Please click on link and LIKE with a big L.

Click here.

Dueling Furries

Dearest Reader,

This is the moment I need you the most. Today is my day in the glorious duel of dueldom or something that makes more sense. I need you to visit Le Clown’s blog and click “Like” on my post even if it sickens you, even if it’s the worst piece of shite you’ve ever laid your eyes on, even if you did not drink enough coffee this morning.

I read Fifty Shades for you. This is how you can repay me.

If I win this duel, I might even consider recrapping the g-d Fifty Shades movies. If I lose, I will never write again. No pressure.

I love you,

Speaker7

Canadica or Bust!

I have a new post up at Canadica, the longest undefended blog in the world. I had meant to publish it Wednesday, but am still figuring out the mystery that is calendars.

Wow, they are amazing, aren’t they? With their dates and their days with the different dates instead of the same date like I thought so that’s why this was published on the wrong date.

Yes, I teach children.

Let’s Finish this Twat so I can be Fifty Shades Freed (pgs. 501-548)

This is it, gentle reader.

The end.

It took some time getting to this point. My brain has shrunken to the size of a vaginal ball. I no longer recognize how sentences are properly constructed. And I’ve begun to call the wart on my left thumb “my inner goddess.” I sometimes dress it in cheerleading outfits.

Since we’re at the end, I would like to let you in on a little secret:

I fucking hate this book more than I fucking hated the other two.

The other two sucked an electrified butt plug, but this book is the king of the shitheap hill. There was no reason for it–no reason for any of them–but really no reason for this other than for E.L. James to make a bazillion more dollars.

Let’s get this over with. We left off with Ana saving the day with her lima-bean-sized brain and gun-firing skills, her in-and-out-of consciousness in the hospital and Speaker7 praying for an early demise.

Christian remembers that his foster mother called him “baby bird,” and suddenly Jack Hyde’s ransom note makes sense.

I’m glad it does for you, Christian, since I have never seen or heard anything about it. This from the author who included Christian’s BDSM contract verbatim. TWICE!

Baby bird is from the book Are You My Mother? Christian explains. Jack knew he loved it.

Will you tell the police? Ana wonders.

Okay, stop. Let’s stop. What the fuck is going on? Why is this relevant? Anybody have a theory?

Thanks Hugo. Fair point well made ol’ chap.

Ana wants to bang, but Christian wants to talk about Mrs. Robinson raping him.

Awesome.

As a teen, Christian did yard work for her so he had money to maintain his drinking habit. Good thing that’s cleared up since he drinks daily.

He made some smart-ass remark and Mrs. Robinson slapped him. Then she kissed him and slapped him again like some cardboard heroine from a 1950′s movie.

“‘Well naturally I was confused and angry and horny as hell. I mean, a hot older woman comes on to you like that–’ He shakes his head as if he still can’t believe it.

Hot? I feel queasy.”

Way to keep perspective, Ana. Yes this is the exact moment to get jealous.

Mrs. Robinson made the world make sense until Ana turned everything upside down with her super vagina and commendable lip biting abilities.

More blather about loving her so much and her being the greatest thing since the hot dog dicer. He then explains his dickish actions when she told him she was pregnant. He left to see Dr. Flynn, but Dr. Flynn was running the bake sale or some such made-up shit at the local school so he went to the salon to talk to Mrs. Robinson.

They split a bottle of wine since Mrs. Robinson was the one who got Christian to stop drinking. She made a pass at him and he was like ewww.

Ana wonders if they kissed.

Christian said he thought about junior Grey having relations with an adult, and realized maybe it wasn’t all hunky dory.

Christian tells Ana he wants to be the center of her universe, but knows that’s over once the bun is cooked in her oven. Ana platitudes bullshit about children loving their parents unconditionally. Um…other way around, tootsie roll, say all parents of teenagers.

A day passes. Ana’s horny. She decides to dress sexily and brush her hair sexily. She wants scrambled eggs for breakfast and this greeted as surprising news by all, except for me because I’m scraping a fork against my eyeball.

Argue-time over whether she can go to work. Then she sees he’s wearing pajama bottoms. I don’t know if they’re hanging off his hips in that way. Are they? Are they??!?!??!?

He’s staying home too to keep Ana under guard so she won’t get into trouble like put a fork in an electrical outlet or get into the cleaning supplies under the sink.

Christian starts to feel up her leg with Mrs. Jones in the room. Banter about wanting to screw, and Mrs. Jones is trying to hide her smile, according to Ana. I really don’t think Mrs. Jones gives a fuck, but okay Ana, it’s from your addled-brain’s point of view.

They go to look at the boring house renovations and have a boring picnic in the meadow. Uh-oh–phone call from Welch. Mrs. Robinson’s ex Linc was the one who bailed out Jack Hyde!

Holy shit! Wait–who the fuck is he? And why the fuck do I care? And fuck?

Christian will destroy him. Awesome. This is as compelling as if I learned Noah Logan was behind it all. Remember him? Yeah, I don’t either, but at least he made an appearance on one page in this book unlike the super villain Linc.

The bankrupting of Linc gets them all hot and bothered and they screw. It’s the same-old, same-old. Some hair fisting, teeth clashing, inflaming loins. Christian pokes his fingers through her panties, which causes them to disintegrate. (?) Guess what? Ana’s wet. Like always.

Two more days pass, Christian is playing his dopey piano, but not the usual sad melody, something upbeat “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Ana uses this time to compose a stupid email and sneak off into the playroom. End, goddammit! End.

Oh, it’s the epilogue – May 2014.

Everyone’s dead.

Unfortunately no. For some reason we go back to the time in the playroom, and they do it. Why this needed to be a flashback is something that will require me to travel to the year 2014 and flashback upon.

Back to the future again. Ana’s pregnant with second child, a daughter. She tells Christian that the baby is dancing and makes the completely appropriate remark: “I think she likes sex already.”

*cue the montage*

Then Christian says this gem: “I’m looking forward to the taste of breast milk again.” I’m so glad they’re able to find a use for their babies in their sexual escapades. That seems so….fuck.

They play with their boy Teddy, and the end.

Wait a second. . . I’m at page 548, and what is this shit? Shades of Christian? Oh no, no, no, no, no. Nope. You do not get to tack on your writing exercises at the end, E.L., for me to slog through after I just read 4,000 pages of your potato scrapings. No thank you. NO. No I do not need to read the first flippin’ book again from Christian’s perspective. Guess what, y’all. It still sucks. What’s next? From the perspective of the pencil sharpener?

Shades of a Pencil Sharpener

Holy cow, these two are fucking idiots. You’re damn right! Who said that? It’s me, your inner pencil sharpener. What’s up, dawg? You want to go sharpen some pencils so we drown out these morons’ hissing and muttering and arrghhing? Word.

(To go to the beginning of my decline, click here)

 

A Pad of Extinction

So Bachelor Pad 3 ended recently.

The winner was this guy:

He is the love child of the weird creepy guy from Poltergeist II.

And fire marshall Bill:

Other stuff led up to this moment, which host Chris Harrison called “The most memorable finale of the most memorable season of the most memorable bachelors created by the most memorable eggs and sperms of the most memorable humans.”

I wanted to see this whole season through so that’s why I’m writing this now. I’d rather be plotting how I’m going to win a blog duel, but here I am.

Bachelor Pad 3 loser Jamie wore this:

Pad fav Michael Stagsomething defended sticking his tongue in some other person’s mouth and not really meaning it. He has a recording of terrible songs you can download on iTunes.

Host Chris Harrison puts Jaclyn on the “hot seat” next. Was it hard to be betrayed by your fake best friend, Chris Harrison propels out of his anus.

Blakely is hot-seated next. She blathers about something, and then brings forward the guy who likes her vagina. His name is Tony. He proposes on national television because why not?

Now the two couples in the finale get their last moment in the sun. Rachel cries at Michael about the former tongue-sticking with no future tongue-sticking in sight. Her partner Nick looks like he enjoys this exchange thoroughly.

Pad douchebag Chris B. says his dad thought Chris acted like a dick on the show, but Chris was just so hurt from his previous attempts at fake love on The Bachelorette.

They lose.

Rachel and Nick win votes from the other cast members. Now they must decide if they will share or keep the $250,000. If one chooses share and the other keep, the latter keeps it all. That’s what Nick does.

I guess they made a deal to split the money, but Nick changed his mind because he is awful. . . like everyone on this show.

So that’s it. It’s over. My herpes has cleared up and I can continue on. I guess I would care more that Nick screwed over Rachel if I actually had the capacity to care. But I don’t. I’ll let Jaclyn feel shock for me.

Alexander Hamilton Ain’t Got Nuthin on Me

Okay here’s what’s happenin’.

I’ve been forced into a blogging duel by a maniacal clown.

This, apparently, is me:

You realize there is no possible way to say no to a clown. That’s why they continue to perform at children’s birthday parties even though everyone hates them.

I’m ‘spose to square off against a team assembled by a half-man/half-dog, at least I think that’s what he is. And the “great” thing is the reader gets to choose what I write about. Awesome, right? Except what if some “funny” guy says “Write about butt plugs.” That’s offensive to my lady sense-a-ma-stuff.

Oh wait. . . I write about butt plugs all the time. I might actually win that one.

But what if the “funny” guy says “Write about poetry” or “Write about your feelings” for christ’s sake! I don’t do emotion. I bottle that shit up until it pours out my orifices like wastewater treatment plant sludge.

So this is where I need your help. Go comment on Le Clown’s blog and give me some workable topics, i.e. topics I’ve already written about so I can just plagiarize an old blog post.

Here is an acceptable list:

  • turds
  • fleece unitards

I realize now that Alexander Hamilton lost in that duel with Aaron Burr. This does not bode well.

Addendum: My fellow duel mate Madame Weebles made me this medal to acknowledge the sacrifices my brain has made in processing the garbled sentences contained inside Fifty Shats of Grey.

To honor her, I plan on using someone else’s brain to write a post that will kick some serious down there in the upcoming duel.

A Pad of Sad

Holy chlamydia!

Tomorrow we will discover which couple wins Bachelor Pad 3, but can one ever really be a winner on Bachelor Pad? (Answer: no)

I’ve realized I’ve shirked my responsibility of offering up a timely recrap of the previous episode and you’ve likely thrown my immunity rose into a paper shredder, but I want you to know that the connections we made and this journey we’ve gone on has been the most amazing experience of my life™.

Four couples remain as we open on a shot of a groundskeeper spraying disinfectant on a puddle of spooge by the pool. I don’t know if this really happened–it’s been awhile since I watched this–but it feels right.

Chris B. has survived another round, and is giving an inspiring pep talk to the remaining contestants who all hate him.

Partners drunkenly ramble to each other about “stepping up our game” and “needing to be on the same page” and “is there any more vodka? I’d like to chug some through my anus?”

Host Chris Harrison shows up and platitudes nonsense about their amazing journey without realizing I trademarked that phrase. He will be hearing from my sock puppet lawyer Hank. In the next competition, the winning couple will not receive immunity roses, but will have “a lot of power in their hands,” Chris Harrison lames. I’m wondering if they will receive the key to the liquor cabinet.

The four couples head outside and see four seats suspended over the pool. One partner sits on the seat while the other partner answers questions about Bachelor Pad 3. Every time the partner answers a question wrong, a rope holding up the seat will be cut. At some point the partner will lose the seat entirely and will have to hang on an overhead bar until his/her arm strength gives.

It’s as boring as it sounds.

Chris B. and Sarah win. They get to choose which couple will leave Bachelor Pad 3 immediately. Couples are given a chance to state their case, and Tony actually says he’s on the show to make his son proud of him. Oh vey.

Chris B. clearly enjoys his moment in the sun, and decides to bitch at all the people who have been meanie mean-means to him.

He chooses Blakely, his former partner, and Tony to go home. They weep with the intensity of someone about to be sent off to battle and climb into the limo of despair.

The three remaining couples are not even given a second to do the 10th jager bomb before they are summoned to the next challenge that will decide which two couples will head to the finale.

The limo pulls up to a theater. They see their names on the marquee. The saddest crowd of “fans” has gathered to greet them. I swear I’ve seen more people at a city council meeting on sewage. But the padders take it in stride and pretend they are actually celebrities.

In the theater, a bunch of old guys in wigs are playing instruments. It turns out it’s Knight Ranger. They launch into their seminal song “Sister Christian” while the contestants look drunkenly bewildered. It just shows that fame is a fleeting bitch, man. You’re on the top of the world in the 1980s, doing coke off a number of willing backsides. And then 30 years pass, and you’re performing for barely functioning reality TV contestants.

Each couple will perform the song “Sister Christian.” Knight Ranger will be the judges, and choose one couple as the winner. Each couple is given a vocal coach somehow connected to the show Glee, and 24 hours to practice. The practice session takes up the majority of the two hours. They are all predictably terrible.

Performance time. Rachel and Nick are first, and they’re terrible. They receive a standing ovation from the judges for some reason. The next group is Ed and Jaclyn, and they forget the words and keep asking for “do-overs” in drunken slurs. They then start dry humping.

Sarah and Chris B. are last. They are terrible, but know the lyrics. Sarah runs around the stage and then starts thrusting against the floor as if she were trying to thrust the last remaining dignity out of her body. The judges seem to dig it.

The judges pick Nick and Rachel for sucking the least so they will be heading to the finals. Sarah wins honorable mention for providing new mastubatory material for the judges. Nick and Rachel get to decide which couple will join them at the finale. Jaclyn says Rachel is her best friend so she knows she’s golden. Oh Jaclyn. Haven’t you ever read Aesop?Never count your genital sores before they hatch.

Nick convinces Rachel to pick Sarah and Chris B. since all the other contestants will vote on which couple will receive the $250,000. Everyone hates them, Nick reasons, so that will guarantee he and Rachel win.

At the final rose ceremony, Rachel breaks the bad news to her bestie. Jaclyn is pissed.

In the limo of sad, Jaclyn declares Rachel dead to her.

And that’s it. Aren’t you excited about the finale? Yeah, I’m not either.