Fifty Flavors of Ugh (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 51-100)

I’m beginning my recrap of pages 51-100 of Fifty Shades Darker: Money Never Sleeps with a public service announcement. This is something I had to do before, when Christian Grey pulled out Anastasia Steele’s tampon and threw it in a toilet.

So here it is:

Please do not put food in your vagina. Or if you do not have a vagina, please do not put food into someone else’s vagina.

I understand the labia is sometimes referred to as vaginal lips. I understand that inserting a penis into a vagina can be referred to as getting the “hot beef injection” (Bender, John, perf. “The Breakfast Club.” 1985. DVD.).

But the vagina is not a mouth. It is not meant to be invigorated by the latest amuse bouche.

Why am I bringing this up?

Patience, gentle reader.

If you would like to read how we got to this point, click here.

Ana is getting ready to meet her coworkers at the Fifty Shades theme bar where ladies drink free if they go through the spanking machine. “Miss Steele? Anastasia Steele?” Ana turns her head and sees Alex Forrest from Fatal Attraction. Alex laughs maniacally and looks at Ana with eyes that are brown, like bourbon, but flat (this is the actual description in the book).

“What do you have that I don’t?” Alex asks. Alex reaches over and turns a lamp on and off, revealing a white bandage around her wrist. She leaves with a “You should see what I can do with rabbits.”

What the crap, crap? Ana thinks, but soon forgets about the mysterious woman when she starts slamming beers at the bar. Ana’s boss Rapey McRapelstein stands too close to Ana and tries to ensnare her with his groin.

The lights flicker on and off. Everyone’s hair stands on end. Christian Grey has entered the room. All women’s down there become moist as sponge cake. All men’s testicles shrivel up into their necks.

Christian and Jekyll Hyde engage in a pissing contest because every man wants Ana just like every woman wants Christian. They are the most beguiling, mysterious, witty, intelligent, amazing couple in the universe even though everything they do and say show they are as annoying as shit.

Christian immediately begins doing push ups with his penis. Jack Ripper shows off his own penis prowess:

Ana and Christian leave to commence with the non kinky fuckery at Ana’s place. Christian asks if Jack is a good boss because if no, his ass is grass. Ana figures out that Christian has bought the publishing company where she works.

“I’m mad,” she yells.

“Well, I’m smiling my boyish smile,” he retorts, his eyes hooded and blazing and sparkling. “I must protect you at all times. Did you see the changes to the health care plan Vaginal ball extraction is totally covered.”

“Now I’m not mad anymore,” she breathes into her down there.

Sexing time. The usual stuff: grunting, licking, moaning, argghhing etc. It gets very repetitive and mind numbing hot. Christian likes to offer encouragement to Ana, which sounds very similar to the encouragement one gives a dog at obedience school.

It continues on for infinity, and I begin to wish it could be broken up by one of their banal email exchanges:

They stop and talk nonsense…I don’t know, maybe about whether Pinky or Blinky make the better Pac Man villain, I’m just so tired…and then Ana asks if he wants dessert. “I have vanilla ice cream,” she says blushing furiously.

Christian basically spoons Ben & Jerry’s ice cream all over her.

And all I can think is how much I hate when ice cream drips on my hand and arm, and now it’s all over the bed and sheets and yuck.

He then puts some in her pubic hair and vagina and licks it out. Mmm. I bet that tasted really good since she just had two spermicide-covered latex condoms in there.

I don’t understand why Ben & Jerry’s hasn’t capitalized on the Fifty Shades phenomenon by releasing a flavor inspired by the books. This one’s a freebie, boys:

Okay, gentle reader, this is where I’m going to refer you to the PSA at the top. I don’t think it’s the best idea to put sugar-based foods into one’s vagina.

Look what I found from a simple Google search of “Should I put ice cream in my vagina?”

I think it has something to do with screwing up the delicate balance of bacteria. Dr. Oz did a show on this once:

Ana mentions she needs a shower, but it is unclear whether she takes one–and this from an author who spent six paragraphs on the small talk between Ana and Claire the receptionist.

She falls asleep in the sticky sheets–oh dear christ–and dreams she is the pale, unwashed   ghost woman who confronted Ana on the sidewalk. She wakes up screaming and tells Christian about the encounter. It turns out the woman is Leila, one of his former subs. She showed up on Christian’s doorstep when he was with Ana in Georgia, and slit her wrist in front of the housekeeper Mrs. Jones.

“How does she know about me?” Ana whispers

Christian surmises Leila saw the one photograph of them online. Let’s ignore that in that photo Ana was unidentified.

Next day, Ana wants to get her haircut. Christian takes her to a salon where all the blonde employees seem to know him. Ana wonders if he’s screwed all of them, which is a healthy thought and a sign of a strong relationship. Nope, he just owns a chain of beauty salons.

Okay.

His co-owner is the woman who made him a sex slave at 15, and surprise she’s there. Christian rushes over to her and whispery whispers.

Ana’s like Crap, this sucks a big crapnugget. She’s, like, so prettier than me…er…I mean, she hurt Christian…but she is so way prettier than me. That sucks cow teats.

Christian returns to Ana’s side, and she wants to leave because of the over prettiness of Elena. They fight and fight. Christian’s cell phone rings, and it’s serious emergency time, you guys. Leila left her husband and took up with some guy who was killed in a car accident a few weeks ago.

Okay.

But wait! She has a concealed gun permit.

All right.

Listen! She wants to kill Ana!?!

Huh?

For reals, yo.

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33 comments

    1. Thank you although I think you mean keep up the crap work. I’ve just begun reading my next chunk of 50 and it’s uhhh….it’s just ughhhhh and more bleat….and pfftttt..

  1. ooooooooh, goddamn it. goddamn it. i mean, this is so funny i had tears running down my face. i read the whole thing out loud to wifesy and almost had an asthma attack while reading it. i’m not kidding. i love the psas. and the 50 flavors of clam?!!! no, no, no. and the whole ice cream in the vag. i’m telling you, you must keep going with this. it’s the best thing i’ve read in ages. tears, you had me in tears. ugh. xo, mother

    1. Thanks for the sweet comments, sweetmom. I understand ice cream in the vag can help with asthma attacks because you become so distracted by the yuck that you forget you can’t breathe.
      On another note, you soon-to-be T-shirt empire is incredible. I would be beyond honored with a 50 flavors of clam T-shirt.

    1. I felt she best represented the armless iciness of Elena. I don’t know if Elena has arms in the book since E.L. James hasn’t gone into great detail about the length of her arms like she has the length of Christian’s Twizzler-sized fingers.

    1. Thank you. I know you’re still on the first…I imagine reading these really make you want to finish the first book quickly and jump right into the second. Or possibly you will never ever want to read this schlock again.

  2. Okay, still in stitches here. I need to lie down. I’m so glad you brought up the fact that they are the most irresistible, beguiling couple known to man and ice cream kind alike. Because we all start blatantly salivating and pupil dilating when we see someone who’s hot.

    The Dr. Oz part was HILARIOUS, and the Little Person Mrs. Robinson is PERFECT. That’s exactly how I picture her. Ana and Christian are made from cardboard.

    1. It’s hard for me to write these recraps because I’m constantly drooling over their awesomeness. I’m drooling even now just thinking about Christian’s talon-like fingers. Arrghh.

      I’m beginning to think that Goofy and Hugo are too life-like and complex to accurately portray Ana and Christian

  3. I just can’t believe someone would write such a poorly written book… And why would someone publish such a poorly written book? Why would people not publishing sarcastic blog posts about a poorly written book, read a poorly written book?

  4. Hold on. I actually just feel the need to clarify the plot of the book. (besides the obviously craptastic sex, I mean.) So… Leila wants Christian (like all women), but he kicked her to the curb. So she left her husband, hooked up with another guy, the other guy died in a car accident, so Leila went to Christian’s place to slit her wrist, failed to die, saw an unidentified photo of Ana on the internet, used her psychic powers to track Ana down, picked up a gun and a concealed weapons licence from a box of cereal, and now plans to kill Ana?

    You’re right. Vampire baseball is WAAAAAAAY more plausible.

    1. There’s more. I couldn’t get everything in because I had to spend a lot of time on the 67 times they banged, but Leila wanted more from Christian when they were having their sub/dom relationship. He didn’t. So she left, met someone else and got married. Then left that dude and you know the rest.

      It makes way more sense now right?

  5. Oh my god, I totally had that doll with the blue dress, yellow hair, and a platform instead of legs! It gives me such pleasure to imagine that doll now every time that “character” is mentioned.

    This development is the most excited I’ve been about the books so far.

  6. I very much appreciate the 80s references in here (Breakfast Club, Fatal Attraction, Pac Man). I only wish you’d next time find away to also work in MacGyver’s mullet. I’m certain that somehow you could fit it into all the sexing recaps.

  7. You said you were beginning the recap with an announcement, bunt I think you made a typo. I think you meant to say “pubic service announcement”. Anyway, keep these up—they’re hilarious. They kind of soften the blow of these books being the “hot new thing”.

  8. Hypothetically ‘speaking’, if Christian Grey existed and my ‘down there’ doesn’t become a moist spongecake in his zappy, craptastic presence… does that mean I’m not a woman? (No, my subconscious is not asking this, I am. She’s too busy laughing)

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