Month: July 2012

Fifty Euphemisms for Sexy Time (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 101-150)

These recraps are becoming way too long. I normally write 500-word posts, and these recraps of Fifty Shades Darker: Return to the Blue Lagoon are topping 1,000.

I need to find some way to condense the fingering, swirling, licking, thrusting, uncurling belly desire, nipple-tugging, hissing, argghhhing, wetness-identifying, and sightless climaxing into a couple words.

Splooging? Clam diving? Turtle dancing? Thinking Arby’s®? Penvaging (a combo of penis and vagina)? Hmmm…I’m not feeling it. Please let me know which is your fav in the comments or if you can come up with something better, I will send you this autographed picture of Hugo. This recrap summarizes pages 101-150. If you want to read all the previous times of turtle dancing, click here.

I would like to include a fantastic summary of the second Shades book that was left in the comments by Jo Eberhardt of The Happy Logophile, a great blog that is not about turtle dancing:

“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?”


Christian brings Ana to his house so she’s safe although that is the very place Leila  turned up so…good idea? She gets a haircut from a stylist named Franco. He speaks with an Italian accent: “My work ‘ere is done.” Hmm. I’m guessing he’s from the same part of Italy as Eliza Doolittle?

Ana’s mad. About what, I don’t know, because now I’m drinking. Not alcohol, mind you, Windex®. Ana pouts and acts in a generally childish manner, and I begin to wonder if E.L. James hates Ana as much as I do. Oh, she’s mad about the whole privacy invasion. Christian does background checks on all his submissives. He has a dossier with her birth certificate, social security number, employment records, etc.,–your normal boyfriend stuff. Romance!

But Christian gets Ana to lighten up by grinding his genitals against hers and this goes on so long that 16 years have passed and my son has graduated high school and I miss it. I give him this sad little “You go, sport” balloon in the shape of a football, and he takes it and says “Who are you?”

Other highlights:

Ana draws on Christian in lipstick to signify the no-touch zones on his back and chest. He doesn’t like to be touched there because his crack whore birth mom’s pimp used to extinguish his cigarettes on Christian. Then they think Arby’s® because nothing gets a girl hotter than child abuse:

Christian drops his semen-filled condom on the bedroom floor.


Ana and Christian dress to attend a fancy schmancy charity event at his parent’s home. Christian wants Ana to wear vaginal balls. He gets out his Play-doh factory to make some. It’s a masked ball so the vaginal balls have little masks that make them resemble Angry Birds®.

At the ball, Mia, Christian’s pomeranian-puppy-like shrieking sister, introduces Ana to her friends. Most of the women are mindless, one is a total bitch–like all women, fellas. Am I right? Up top.

We get the whole fucking menu. The whole fucking menu!

Jesus christ, we get the entire list of items to be auctioned off too? Awesome.

What, we don’t get which person got which coat check number? Bummer.

The balls roll around in Ana’s down there. She wants to splooge bad. She asks Christian to escort her to the porto-potty for some hot, smelly clam diving, but Mia takes her instead. Ana delivers the vaginal balls into the toilet and tapes a segment of I Didn’t Know I Had Vaginal Balls, a spin-off of TLC’s  I Didn’t Know I was Pregnant Until the Baby Plopped Headfirst into the Toilet.

During the auction, Ana makes the winning bid on a weekend stay in Christian’s sex shack in Aspen. Christian’s pissed because women be thinking too much. *actual line coming up* “I don’t know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you.”


Ana, horny as a clam-diving turtle, opts for the latter because she is still numb from the vaginal balls and scraping her salad fork in her nether regions did not result in her release.

Uh-oh. It’s still auction time, although this auction resembles more of a livestock auction. Women are auctioned off for milk production abilities dancing. Most women go for a couple thousand, but not Ana Rose Steele. Christian gets into a bidding war with some unnamed character and buys Ana for $100,000. The bitch girl from before says bitchingly “What the fuck?” Ana’s like I’m all that and a bag of vaginal balls.

Meanwhile, the ghost of Susan B. Anthony punches a hole in a wall at her historic home in Rochester, NY, freaking the fuck out of a couple of tourists.

Ana and Christian leave the dance floor to commence with penvaging and that’s where it ends.

890 words…must do better.

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.


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.


But wait! She has a concealed gun permit.

All right.

Listen! She wants to kill Ana!?!


For reals, yo.

It’s Getting Dark in Here (Fifty Shades Darker, pgs. 1-50)

So you better be pulling up some shades…like maybe 50 of ’em.

What the hell do I mean? At this point, I don’t even know.

In my last post, I included a poll about whether or not I should continue recrapping the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy. Here are the results:

For a second, I thought soup was going to take it. Soup is mmmmmm good. I really, really wanted soup to win and not because I have a Christian Grey food obsession, (Eat the soup!!! Eat it!! I say my eyes hooding in a darkening glower way of a darkened shade), but because these books are the opposite of soup. If I’m not being clear, I think these books are, to use a favorite phrase of Anastasia Steele’s, crap.

This is a democracy (is it?) and the public wants more interspecies mingling between Hugo and Goofy so I am continuing. Your kind, kind comments on the first series of recraps almost made me feel something in my dead, dead heart and even deader soul. For a second, my soul sparked like a lighter low on lighter fluid and then snuffed out. It was glorious yet odd feeling because it has been so long since I’ve felt anything.

This weekend I purchased the second book Fifty Shades Darker: Electric Boogaloo and took some over-the-counter anxiety medicine–the only one I could find was for dogs–and read the first 50 pages.

Oh reader…oh gentle reader…it was like I never left Seattle or Portland or Vancouver, wherever this book is supposed to be set. The setting is kind of a fluid thing like a blob of K-Y® Brand INTENSE®.

When we last left our heroine, Ana and her stinging bottom and clenching down there left the steely-eyed, impassive, lost, impossibly beautiful, long-fingered, flogging machine known as Christian Grey.

It is Ana’s first day of work as spanking machine test subject publishing assistant for a man named Jack Hyde, whose name is in no way suppose to make you think of a combination of Jack the Ripper and Jekyll and Hyde. Incidentally Jekyll “Ripper” Hyde wants to jack Ana:

Ana is, like, feeling quintuplet crap because it’s been, like, five days without seeing Christian curl and purse his lip. Everything reminds her of Christian. She breaks down when she tries to eat enormous bananas or passes by the dog collar display at the local pet store:

Christian tracks down her work email and sends her a message about attending Jose’s photography exhibit. “Do you still want to go? Clench your down there once for yes, twice for no,” it says.

This results in the most fascinating email exchange in all of email history. E.L. James could have written “We decided to still attend Jose’s show like we planned” but then you would miss out on this:

It’s show time. Ana hops into Christian’s car, and he is as amazingly pleasant as one could expect. He scowls and scolds and reprimands her for not eating and glowers and smolders and glares and any other synonyms for pissy.

Oh the eating! How I missed thee. Thank god you showed up in chapter 1 or else I wouldn’t remember Christian has a serious hang up about the contents of Ana’s stomach. She jumps into his lap as one would expect, and inhales his “Christian” smell, an intoxicating aroma of Boudreaux Butt Paste, Sex Panther, and the brand of cologne O.J. Simpson likes.

They get into an elevator where dark, deadly desire pools in Ana’s groin and electricity sparks from Christian’s “bright” hair. Lip biting ensues. They arrive at the helipad. Christian straps her into a harness and remarks how much he enjoys it, and I feel a strong sense of deja vu, like I read all of this before.

Because I did. Last week. When I read the first book.

Ana is in awe of the romantic things Christian says, and her inner goddess wakes up from her Ben & Jerry’s stupor:

At the gallery, Christian pees a circle around Ana to mark his territory. Christian glowers at Jose when Jose steps over the circle to embrace Ana. Throughout the evening, Christian refers to Jose as “boy”. The female gallery owner wants to hump Christian like all women do and tries to attach her groin to his leg. Ana notices that people are staring at her too. Wha? Crap? Triple holy cow craptasm! What the crap in crapville is crapping on? Ana thinks and then craps a bit in her pants. Jose, a self-professed landscape photographer, took portraits of Ana surreptitiously and now is seeking to make money off of them, which seems ethical:

Christian pees all over them and for added measure buys them so no one can ogle Ana’s stringy hair and too-huge eyes. Yes, digital photographs are very hard to reproduce so brilliant move on Christian’s part.

Christian throws a tantrum. “I wanna go now, Ana! Now! Waahhhhhhh.”

Because Ana is also mature, she tries to make Christian jealous by flinging herself at Jose. On their way out of the gallery, Christian pulls Ana into an alleyway and murders kisses her violently with tongue thrusts.

He then takes her to a restaurant because it’s been two paragraphs since food was mentioned. Relationship conversation time! “Why didn’t you shriek the safety word when I was shredding your ass with a belt?” Christian asks. “I told you I wanted it to be ‘turd nugget’ so I could remember it,” Ana says through her lashes that now work as a mouth. “Well then it’s your fault,” he cries. “Okay,” her down there says. Ana is all down with the “kinky fuckery” but not so much the total control of mind, body, and spirit, and the beatings with belts. “Fine,” Christian glowers. And presto! They’re back.

I predict no future problems.

Oh and Christian was beaten by his crack whore mom’s pimp. She killed herself, and it took four days to discover Dexter Christian and the body. They then order dessert.

What else? Ana received an iPad from Christian filled with songs about their relationship:

Kinky emailery. Ana is about to attend happy hour with work colleagues at a bar called Fifty Shades of Grey. I’m kidding.

It’s called Fifty’s. I’m not kidding.

And presto! We’re back.

Fifty Sighs of Relief (pgs. 451-528)

It’s here, gentle reader.

The final post of Speaker7 Wearily Proudly Presents a Cliff Notes Version of 50 Shades of Grey with Pivotal Scenes Reenacted by Hugo, the man of 1,000 faces, and Goofy, the recently named blue bunny. If you missed out on the first nine posts then you were born under a lucky star. If you enjoy torment and the overuse of the word “crap”, click here. Incidentally these recraps might be turned into a Hollywood movie with the part of Speaker7 being played by the reanimated corpse of Rin Tin Tin.

It seemed like only yesterday I read the holy craptastic description of Christian Grey pouring himself into Anastasis Steele the first time. But that was a week ago, and the pouring of his seed continued to crop up every third page. It happened so often I expected to read of something growing out of Ana’s down there, like a holy-cowing swamp monster.

Let’s end this.

Ana and Christian go gliding. They try to exchange bodily fluids in the plane, but are thwarted by the plane’s design and gravity. Christian humps Ana’s leg a little after they land. Ana thinks Holy fuck! 

They eat at IHOP because we can never go for more than two pages without Christian’s food obsession cropping up. The waitress begins drooling and blushing the minute she sees Christian because, why not? Why have one woman be normal in this book, right? Christian demands Ana eat all of the pancakes in the restaurant and then the restaurant itself.

Christian has a work “situation” he must attend and flies back to Seattle. Over the phone, Ana senses his eyebrows are arched in a I’m-kinda-mad-and-stuff way. Oh crap noggin’ Ana breathes and farts loudly.

She decides to email him. Wow, this is new! Oh wait, this has been done 4,321,245 other times.

Ana’s phone rings. She breathily answers “Crap?” and learns she has a job as a vaginal ball model publishing something or other. “Crap, yes,” she murmurs into the phone and does a few gleeful kegels.

She flies back to Seattle. Christian’s man servant drives her to Christian’s home. When Christian sees her, he blasts her with a fire hydrant’s worth of semen. He still seems kinda pissy though.

Before Ana can murmur or mutter “What’s up, dawg?”, he has her head into the Red Room of Pain for sexy time.

There Christian blindfolds her, restrains her to the bed and turns on Insane Clown Posse’s Greatest Hits at full blast. How do fucking magnets work? Ana wonders as she listens to the music, and her down there muscles clench and shrug and vibrate and expand.

He uses many implements:

They leave the red room of pain and do it again–maybe, I don’t honestly remember, but I have a 90% chance of being correct. Ana wakes up and finds Christian playing a solemn version of “I’m Sexy and I know It” on the piano.

Ana brings up the contract. She still hasn’t signed. Christian doesn’t think that’s necessary as long as she follows his rules:

Big discussion time.

Ana: I don’t like the spanking.

Christian: Well I do.

Ana: Okay, spank me as hard as you can because…uh…why now? Let me think. It will change him. Yes!

So he beats her with his belt. Romance!

For three seconds Ana is not a used-up tissue and says “Holy cow. This sucks. Bye.” Christian glowers and murmurs and taps his elongated fingers together and sneers a lip.

Ana cries and leaves him a glider model kit:

She surrenders herself to her grief. And we are done!

Now I’ve been going back and forth with my broken soul whether to continue on and recrap the second book Fifty New Uses for Anal Beads.

I leave the decision to you, gentle reader, as a good Submissive should.

Fifty Shades of Ewww (pgs. 401-450)

I’d like to begin this post about pages 401-450 of Fifty Shades of Grey with a public service announcement:

Please do not dispose of your tampons in toilets.

I know you might be in the heat of the moment, about to bang on the floor of the bathroom, but please dispose of your tampons in the trash receptacle. Or if you’re banging in a public stall, please use that little trash container that resembles a mailbox.

Why am I bringing this up?

Just wait…

So we left off with Ana hightailing it to her mother’s house in Georgia to get away from Christian’s log ride so she can think about their arrangement with some clarity. If you need to know how we got to this point in the story and hate yourself, you can click here to read previous installments.

Ana’s exodus results in heavy email action. When I read this, I felt like I do at work when someone sends out a mass email about something non work-related like joining a volleyball league, and everyone who replies back hits “reply all” rather than “reply sender” so I have to sift through 45 emails about “I’ll do it” or “Fun! What time?” or “I’d like to volley your balls.” And you feel like replying back “Can you not reply to all of us because no one gives a shit about your smiley emoticons,” but you don’t want to be that person, the one that causes that mass email “Jeez, what’s her problem?” to be sent out, and then you have 65 more replies to sift through. And they’re all filled with frowny faces.

I could just summarize and say they email back and forth about how much they miss one another and how much Christian wants to penetrate Ana’s down there, but then you miss out on the suffering, and that’s what this BDSM relationship is all about, gentle reader.

Christian signs off, saying he has to meet someone for dinner, and Ana deduces it’s the woman who made Christian a sex slave when he was 15. Ana calls her “Mrs. Robinson” because she is clever…wait, I’m sorry, I meant the opposite of clever, which is stupid buttface.

She finally decides to Google Christian’s name, which leads to the best line thus far: Holy Cow! I’m on Google! 

Yes that is sooo very difficult. That’s why I only got 185,000 hits on a search of images for projectile vomit. You know what’s difficult? Not being on Google.

While out for drinks with her mom, Ana decides to send some more emails (!?!) about her dislike of Mrs. Robinson and how it impacts her down there:

Christian instantly replies “I see London, I see France” and it turns out the reason he can see her underpants is because he has flown to Georgia and is presently in the exact hotel bar as Ana and her mom.

That’s so creepy hot and sweet!

They murmur and pout and grit their teeth and look at their hands and arch eyebrows and glower, and sulk and tap dance and help a Nigerian prince secure freedom, and eventually head upstairs to Christian’s room to add their genital fluids to the walls of the bathroom.

Ana’s on her period. God, I’m so fortunate to know this. Aren’t you? And that’s when Christian pulls out her tampon and flings it into the toilet. Please refer to the PSA at the top of the post.

They then commence the banging. Before he mounts, he likes to say “I’m going to have you ______” and then adds the location. We learn that his member is covered in her menstrual blood…that is my little early Christmas gift to you. Now I’m going to throw up off the porch and have someone snap a picture so it can be added to the projectile vomit archive. Holy cow! I will soon be on Google!

After all the sexing, Ana feels she needs to get to know Christian better. “What’s your favorite film?” she really asks him.

The section ends with them about to go gliding–hopefully directly into a ravine.

Only one more recrap to go!

Fifty Types of Vaginal Balls (pgs. 351-400)

We’re almost at the finish line.

Are we? I feel like I’ve been reading 50 Shades of Grey for 16 years enclosed inside a torture cage in one of those CIA black sites.

That’s really hot!

Shut up, Ana. Not everything is hot. For example, my life force. It’s nearly depleted. And mild salsa. That just tastes like tomatoes.

Okay, we are at pages 351-400, and so much has happened. You can read vivid recraps by clicking here or I can give a very short summary of the events thus far. Ana bit her lip; Christian arched and pursed his lip eyebrow; a well-endowed train slammed through a moistened tunnel; a rocket blasted into space and fucked a black hole with vigor; a clam shell was cracked open by a fire hose; an addled sock puppet said “crap” and “holy cow”; and Christian made Ana watch Love Guru as punishment.

The doltish duo returns from a night of eating food at a family dining table and screwing in a family boathouse. Ana wants to touch Christian, but he says “Ew. Girls have cooties and I’m 50 shades of fucked up.”

She says “What’s up, dawg?” He purses his lip and his eyes burn a hole in his pants. “I’ll let you spank me, if you tell me something painful from your painful childhood, dealsies?” Ana says.

Christians leaves for a second and returns with a box:

He sexily pumps the Play-doh Factory’s arm up and down.

Christian uses the special Play-doh shoe-horn to insert said vaginal balls:

Guess what? They don’t have sex, but instead use the vaginal balls to play a game of marbles.

I’m kidding. They do have sex because that is all they ever do. Afterwards Christian retracts his penis and says “My birth mother was a crack whore. G’night.”

The next morning they have desk sex in Christian’s office:

Ana meets Christian’s housekeeper Mrs. Jones. Christian asks Mrs. Jones to tidy up his collection of vaginal balls and Play-doh implements. Ana leaves to get ready for her two interviews. At one of the interviews, the boss’s penchant for cocking his head and arching his eyebrows remind her of Christian. Uh-oh could this boss possibly interfere in this fantastic relationship? I can’t wait to find out or I can wait to find out and spend the rest of my life never knowing. Yes the latter feels as right as a well-placed set of vaginal balls.

Ana leaves for her flight to Georgia to see her mother and think things out away from Christian’s gigantic member. She walks through the metal scanner. It buzzes. She deftly removes the vaginal balls and tries again. When she gets up to the check-in gate, she finds Christian has upgraded her ticket to first class and requested she receive a full body cavity search from the TSA. Ana is pissed about the upgrade.

To move the story along without all the sexy, holy-crap fucking, Christian and Ana sexily email one another:

Ana sends Christian a stream-of-consciousness email about all her deep penetrating thoughts about crap and stuff:

And that’s it. . . so many interesting plot twists, so many unanswered questions. Will Ana sign the dominant/submissive contract? Can Christian change and let Ana lick his chest hairs without cringing? What color will his cock ring be?

Till next time, gentle reader.

Fifty Ways to Truss Your Lover (pgs. 301-350)

How many submissives does it take to insert a butt plug?

As many as the dominant says it takes.

Bada-bing. I’ll be here all week!

Before this goes any further, I would like you all to address me as “Sir” in the comments. Or “Lord Voldemort” or “Rubberface Gimp Monkey” or “Chunkstyle”…you know what? Just forget it, I’m too wishy washy to make it as a dominant.

Don’t look me in the eyes.

In this installment of 50 Shades of Tears I’ve Shed, Christian and Ana revisit the red room of pain. To read how we got to this point, click on these recraps or do something pleasurable instead:

Before Christian can chain, truss, knot and braid Ana’s pubic hair, he first lets her visit a lady doctor to examine her nether regions and put her on the pill so he does not have to order elephantiasis-sized condoms from Oriental Trading anymore. The doctor tells Christian to look after Ana as one would a sweet, brain damaged dog. That is, like, so crap sweet.

Now it’s riding crop time! “He’s just sex on legs,” says Ana.


Ana’s inner goddess has picked up a couple of pom poms and borrowed a cheerleading outfit from the set of Glee.

Christian peels off Ana’s clothes leaving her clad only in panties, and makes her kneel–eyes downcast of course–in the corner. No one puts baby in a corner says the ghost of Patrick Swayze.

Too soon?

Christian changes into acid-wash jeans (Holy fuck hot! Ana predictably thinks). He peels off her panties and sniffs them vigorously. I wish I was making this up, but alas, I am not:

He chains her up to a William Sonoma® pot rack and smacks her “down there” with a riding crop. Of course, this causes explosions to rocket through her body:

Throughout this panty-sniffing, Ana desperately wants to lick Christian’s chest. Hot, right? Sure.

Christian is not finished with Ana. He knocks her down like a piñata from the pot rack and secures her wrists with a cable tie. He takes her to bed and has her grasp onto the bed post. He tells her she has a “sexy ass.”

Christian takes Ana, panties-less, to meet his family for dinner. The Grey house is all wood floors and antique rugs with sweeping staircases. That sounds…weird. There’s no furniture? They mutter and murmur at each other. Christian’s sister Mia is a bit different in that she chooses to shriek her remarks. She is not a pomeranian puppy to clear up any confusion, but a full-grown adult woman.

Apparently there is a dining room table. They all sit around it and eat corn dogs–except Christian:

Ana’s subconscious reacts:

Christian becomes enraged when Ana tells his dad she might go see her mother in Georgia. He clamps his hand like a genital clamp on Ana’s thighs. “C’mon I wanna show you my spanking hand…er…rowing trophies,” Christian glowers and seethes. He takes Ana to the boathouse to have his way with her:

I can’t tell you how much this reminds me of the time I first met my husband’s family…well except for the rowing trophies part.

Holy crap farts!

50 Whacks with a Wooden Spoon (pgs. 251-300)

Okay where are we? Pages 251-300. Just let me hit myself in the face with a frying pan and I’ll be ready to go.

If you are new to this series, you can read the other recraps to catch up or you can go outside and enjoy yourself:

But first a word from our sponsor:

Oh yeah, gentle reader, this is where things get…um…what’s the word I’m looking for? Crap? No, not crap…um…constipated? Sure let’s go with that.

So Ana has agreed to be Christian’s submissive. He comes over her house to go over the soft limits, e.g. butt squeegees, anal handcuffs, etc.

He gives her a new Audi and “fists” her hair when she doesn’t seem that pleased. Then it’s the sexy time part with the sexing and the timing and the thrusting and the licking and the grunting and the arrghhing and the inner goddess–wait a second. I should really pick out a character to represent the inner goddess. She is in this story an awful lot with the emphasis on awful. What is an inner goddess, you may ask? I have no fucking clue. My inner goddess is now weeping.

Here is Ana’s:

I should also pick a character to represent the stern, disapproving, ho-calling subconscious. She is one mean mo-fo.

Okay with that out of the way, let’s get to the sexing.

And more sexing:

And even more sexing:

Christian then wants to know when Ana will next menstruate. Crap sausage, that’s personal Ana thinks as Christian’s condom narrowly misses her face. They have some conversation about something…I don’t know…box scores, rat traps, Pepsi vs. Coke? I don’t know, but Ana rolls her eyes and Christian says it’s time for the spanking. That is so…troubling hot.

Christian leaves Ana with the advice to take two Advil. What? Yes, Advil, you can run your ad again:

Ana is all bummer in the summer. She’s blue, but her ass is red. Crap, this sucks. I’m double-crapped sad crap boo-boo, she thinks. She emails Christian:

He comes back, gives her Advil (not again, Advil) and spends the night. The next day, he sends her a BlackBerry at work:

I peeked ahead. Next section includes a gynecological exam. Crap, that’s hot. Where’s that frying pan?

Fifty Shades on Repeat (pgs. 201-250)

Ana agrees to be Christian’s submissive in the latest 50 pages of Fifty Ways to Describe Crap. For previous recraps that will not make you beg for more, click here, here, here and here.

This could probably have been completed in one paragraph–heck, one sentence even. I will show you.

“I’ll do it,” Ana says looking at her hands then biting her lip. Not the best move, glowers her subconscious, pushing her half-moon spectacles onto her face. Tra-la-la trills Ana’s inner goddess, churning her arms in the style of the cabbage patch.

I was wrong. It does take more than one sentence when you have to consider Ana’s multiple personality disorder. It takes three, but E.L. James manages to stretch out this decision for 50 pages.

There’s some lip biting.

There is murmuring and muttering interspersed with utterances of crap, holy crap and holy shit.

Eyes are flashing and hooded and unreadable and intense and grey-colored.

Questions remain about certain provisions of the BDSM contract:

There are moments when Ana feels as if her body is being electrified by Christian, which makes me wonder if he is actually an electrical socket rather than a person, and she is constantly being shocked when she sticks her tongue into it. That would make a much more interesting book, and explain Ana’s brain damage.

A bear shits in the woods. It doesn’t say that specifically in the book, but that has to happen, right?

There is the gnashing of teeth to break down food into particles for quicker digestion and then remarks of “Eat” and “I’m not hungry” and so forth. See:

So much of the same themes we’ve seen in the previous 200 pages, which is why this book would make the greatest drinking game of all time. Here let me show you:

That’s pretty much it. I do want to include a picture I took today of Hugo and Goofy since I posed them outside and I am 100 percent sure my neighbor was watching. Ana graduates with a bachelor’s degree in lip-biting. Christian, a huge benefactor of the college (the name of which I’m too lazy to look up), is conferring the degrees. This is where she agrees to be his submissive:

For the next 50 pages, I will be following the 50 Shades of Grey Drinking Game.

Fifty Pages of Gobbilygook (pgs. 151-200)

It can’t all be humping and genital wax (is that a thing?). Sometimes you’ve got to take a step back and do a little expository writing to move the “story” along.

This, gentle reader, is what happens in pages 151-200 of Fifty Shades of Glop. Christian does tie Ana up and cause her to explode and break into pieces simply by blinking his eyes (like all men can), but for the most part, in this section we get some insight into the nature of their soon-to-be “relationship”.  We get a full-length legal contract (HOT!!!) and an IT house call (HOTTER!!) and emails (HOT CRAP!). For previous installments, click here, here and here.

Today a stray cat got into my car when I left the driver’s side door open and headed back into the house. I first thought it was a squirrel, but then realized it was a cat. Normally this would provoke a reaction. Maybe a startled gasp or a “What the fuckity fuck fuck!!!!” but I felt nothing. This is what this book is doing to me. I am losing the ability to feel.

Let’s carry on!!

Christian has a mommy. She shows up post-orgasm. Christian has “just-fucked hair” observes Ana. They murmur at each other. Ana pees on the floor (maybe).

Christian drives her home. E.L. James spends some time pointing out that he has Mariner baseball caps in the glove compartment. Great. Now I know everything.

They stop to eat because Christian has a little issue with food (BOOM! says foreshadowing hammer). He orders wine. Ana pouts because she wanted Diet Coke. “Stop biting your lip,” he orders. “Poop on you,” she sasses back. Or something. In between murmuring and hooding their eyes (whatever that is), Christian discloses that a friend of his mother’s made him her sex slave when he was 15. Then they get appetizers.

Christian drops Ana off and she begins to feel despondent about being apart from a man who can simultaneously curl and arch both eyebrows. It also appears that Ana hears multiple voices because now there is an inner goddess who bickers with Ana’s subconscious:

Now Ana has time to ice her down there and also read Christian’s BDSM contract.

There are appendixes! Holy toaster strudel! moans my inner goddess.

The deal breaker for Ana is Appendix 4 which lists the acceptable foods to eat. The giving-up-complete-control-of-mind-and-body is no biggie, however. She is fantastic! Craptastic even! Feminism for all!

Christian buys Ana a laptop because she lives in 1994, and is the only person under 25 who doesn’t know how to use a computer. The computer comes with an IT guy to set it up, and he’s a dickhead so for the first time something rings true in the book (sorry any readers employed in the IT field. You are wonderful and I love you).

She sees she instantly has an email from Christian. We luckily get to see their correspondence in full:

A little while later, Ana sends a joke email giving Christian the kiss off. This makes lots of sense because Christian is not the slightest bit humorless or devoid of any emotion.

He shows up at her apartment, and they have a rational conversation about expectations and guidelines about their pending relationship. I’m joking. They f*** hard because…um, why else would anyone be reading this?

Only 314 pages to go!