Fifty Shades Freed: The Final Countdown (pgs. 1-50)

Okay, I have procrastinated long enough.

It was a struggle, gentle reader. I’m not going to lie. I did pretty much anything else to avoid picking up and reading the first 50 pages of Fifty Shades Freon. I cleaned the house. I went outside. I watched my child.

I wasn’t the only one who tried to avoid this unpleasant task. Goofy tried to escape the premises, but ran into a small snag:

I’m pretty sure Hugo tried to commit suicide:

But here we all are, ready to behold the crapness that will undoubtedly permeate every page of this turdpile called a best seller. (If you are new to this blog and would like to read other recraps, please visit this page. I accept no responsibility for your misery)

I feel before I begin, I should point out that the main characters Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele are actual human beings. They are not, in fact, a grey hot dog stuck inside a gooey clam shell. It may seem they are those things because they do not talk or behave like human beings, but that’s just because they are giant a-holes.

So the grey hot dog and gooey clam shell are on their honeymoon in Monaco. Ana thinks, Crap, but with some kind of European accent.

They continually refer to each other as Mr. and Mrs. Grey, which is in no way tedious or makes one want to scrape at one’s eyeballs with a carrot peeler. It’s so very ass face adorable in the way that John Wayne Gacy’s clown paintings are adorable.

Here take a gander:

They almost sex it up on the beach. She runs her teeth along his jaw. People do that? Maybe clams do. He throws her in the sea and she gets back at him by taking off her bikini top while he swims. We are treated to flashbacks of the proposal and the wedding.

Christian is very insistent that he is the only one to take off her wedding dress so she cannot change before they leave for their honeymoon. Ana’s mother’s like “What the fuh, dude?” and Ana shrugs because poop.

She thinks about the terrible fight they had over her refusal to keep the obey part in the vows.

Sorry ladies, he’s taken, but don’t worry O.J. Simpson might get paroled in 2017 so you can snag your own psychopath.

On the plane all the women blush and blink rapidly at Christian. Are they on bath salts? Nope, they just love them some Grey. Ana wonders if she’ll ever get used to the Axe-Body-spray-like reaction Christian provokes, but instead “I smile kindly at her. After all–he is mine.” Awww. What a condescending asshole she is.

On the plane, Christian wants to talk about their trip through Europe, and see where Ana wants to go. I’m just kidding. They bump bits. Throughout the whole ordeal, he keeps saying “mine” about her breasts and her “sex” which is E.L. James grown-up language for vagina. It’s very erotic. I should probably stop huffing glue because I am starting to say some crazy shit.

Back to the present and Christian’s mad because Ana turned over onto her back during her slumber and all the world can see her titty ta-tas. His eyes blaze, he huffs, he stomps, he farts angrily.

He yells about his security team checking out her boom-booms. I’m pretty sure they’ve seen everything since the two are joined at the vulva. Ana thinks Crap so many times, I fear she’s broken.

Christian brings up the paparazzi because tabloids are just jonesing for pics of guys involved in mergers and acquisitions. Oh my god guys, do remember that story in Us Weekly about Brian Blackman discussing Molycorp’s third quarter earnings? That was insane. His body is definitely not beach ready.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Ana whispers like she does every three sentences.

Christian whistles for Taylor and the two French security guys Weirdly they are identical twins, Ana ponders. Weirdly I don’t give a shit. Always Ana thinks stupid things.

He drags her onto a jet ski. She is the only one who wears a life jacket, and Christian checks it like I check the straps on my 2-year-old’s life jacket. A small crowd has gathered to watch because they are so fucking amazing, and he zooms around the water like a douchebag. Now he’s fine. Yippee.

They get on their yacht:

Ana thinks she’s going to be punished, and she kinda wants to be. Give me one second, I’m now going to stick my hand down the garbage disposal. She cannot tell if he is still angry so she employs her patented distraction technique™. I don’t have any clue what she’s talking about, but the US government should revoke that patent. She asks him something inane like “Do you do the Dew?”

We get another flashback to a prenup conversation that took far too many years off my life and far too long to say no prenup.

Back to present, and Ana is making nut jokes as they pass nuts back and forth. Drink up cuz we’re going to fuck, says Christian, but using more words. He tells her not to pee. Nice, and she will so dig that urinary tract infection. The look he gives her could be responsible for global warming, Ana dumbs.

He takes her in the bedroom and shows her handcuffs. They feel solid, Ana thinks.  Um, yes. Surprisingly they are not liquid or gaseous. He has her pick a safe word–beef curtain–and he handcuffs her wrists to her ankles so she can’t bend her legs. “I’m going to fuck you till you scream,” he says. And he does. And while he bangs away, he asks really hot questions like “Why do you defy me.”

I tried to get visuals, but I don’t think Hugo’s or Goofy’s heart is in this process any longer:

You guys are supposed to be crazy bangin’.

Later Ana discovers Chritian gave her hickeys all over her boobies so she will not be able to wear a bathing suit. She throws a hairbrush at him. He admits he did it because she took her top off.

I want to shout at him, but I refrain–I don’t want to push him too far. Heaven knows what he’d do, Ana thinks. Sounds like a prince, am I right ladies. Raise your hand if you’re the wettest of the group.

They eat dinner and Ana has deep thoughts: Will I ever understand this man? Hmm- this creme brûlée is delicious. Some other nonsense ensues that makes me wish I was born an amoeba that died two seconds later.

Flashback to the honeymoon time in London. We learn Ana shaved off her pubic hair. Christian laughs, and then examines the job. Of course I hadn’t done it to Mr. Exacting’s high standards, Ana thinks. Ugh.

He decides to shave her. Not in the tub, but on the bed. That cleaning staff is super lucky.

When he’s done with the trim, he has a special treat for her:

Actually he finger bangs her, but I thought this was more lovely.

You’re welcome.


      1. We will have our day in the sun. We may crumple and burn like vampires, but we will have our day.May we not crumple and burn like a pair of vampires.

    1. Goofy and Hugo have basically given up. They have been very uncooperative and keep lolling about rather than maintaining the craptastic poses I place them in.

      1. Who can blame them? I mean, they were VERY good sports for nearly 1000 pages of absolute crap. I don’t know if we can, rightfully, expect them to cooperate for another 500+.

        However, I will assume that you’ve learned something from the illustrious Mr. Grey in how to make them submit to your every whim so that we can continue to enjoy their antics alongside your recraps.

      2. I’ve been working on my eyebrow arching and lip pursing. I’ve also tried to stretch out my fingers so they’re as long as his. I believe his are the length of foot-long hot dogs.

  1. Are you taking submissions yet for other crappy books you could write Cliffsnotes for? Because I don’t know what I will do with myself once you finish 50 Shades.

  2. It’s sad that Goofy and Hugo re sleep-walking through this. They’re supposed to be professionals! If we have to read it, the least they could do is try to pretend that they’re into it. I’ve got half a mind to give their parts to an old Ninja Turtle figure with the partially chewed leg from that puppy, and a headless Barbie.

  3. lol, you forgot that one gem of a quote when Psycho… errr, I mean Christian takes off Ana’s bikini top and says “next time I will staple these on you” cringe.. I mean swoooon :-/

    1. Ah yes, that gem. What a prince, am I right, ladies? I like when he threatens her with violence. That causes deep desire to pool in my belly or maybe that might be seething anger.

  4. Great. Now I’m going to have Europe stuck in my head all weekend. I’m not sure which is worse– that melody or the idea of a pubestache. I’m leaning toward the latter.

  5. Okay, I know this whole trip is more for the female gender than it is for a guy like me, but somehow I was in just the right mood to read your recap of “50 Shades of Forever” right now, and I really enjoyed it. My best laugh came from the photo on the yacht captioned “I’m the butt plug of the world!!!!” Still grinning as I think about it… But for me, there has to be an honorable mention for the pubestache, because yes, it was a lovely and also very funny ending!

    1. Chris,
      This whole trip is for the entire destruction of the human race so it’s for both genders to equally abhor…er…I mean, enjoy. You have my blessing to bellow “I’m the butt plug of the world!!” on any boat. It’s very liberating.

      1. Thanks for making me feel welcome to take a front row seat for the entire destruction of the human race, S-7. Your version is far more entertaining than that other one that I’ve been watching nightly on CNN, which often makes me feel angry, depressed or both, so this is much better. And now since you have encouraged me, I might just take that liberty and do some bellowing about my own claim to butt plug world fame, the next time I’m on a boat. Because hey, just as they say about that shoe, if the butt plug fits, then… uhm, never mind… not sure I like where this anal-ogy is going!

        But here’s what I’d really like to see… Maybe you’ve heard about the guy who is so filthy rich, that he can actually afford to make his dream a reality – which is to build a fully functional, full size replica of the Titanic. I think that HE should be the one to recreate that scene with DiCaprio standing on the bow of Titanic, because after spending who knows how many millions of dollars on such a great and noble cause, to recreate one of the greatest symbols of tragic human hubris ever, HE is the one who can truly claim “I’m the butt plug of the world!!!!”

  6. After being subjected to the real E.L. James work I have two things to say:
    1. Your recraps are worthy of the Nobel Prize, or the Mark Twain Humor prize or at the very least a bag of chips.
    2. If anything I write makes it to the best seller list, I may cry. It can only mean I royally suck as a writer if James is my equal.
    That being said, Hugo and Goofy deserve to be paid. After all, don’t most porn stars?

    1. 1. Thank you. The most likely is the Nobel Prize, but I would settle for a bag of Lays
      2. Sometimes fantastic writers make the best seller list. When you do, you will be one of those fantastic writers.

      Hugo and Goofy are artists. I believe their fulfillment comes from creating art. I guess I could share the potato chips with them if I had to.

    1. Did you not see the pubestache? That was an amazing plot twist. Oh wait. I made that part up. So to answer your question, no nothing happened. And it’s just the beginning.

  7. I want to shout at him, but I refrain–I don’t want to push him too far. Heaven knows what he’d do, Ana thinks. Sounds like a prince, am I right ladies. Raise your hand if you’re the wettest of the group. My hand is up. Can you see that my hand is up? 😛

    1. I feel I should though just so you can get the right picture. He had her sit up and bend her legs then cuffed her wrists to her ankles so she was stuck in that position. It was very “erotic.”

      1. Have you been trying to insert it into everyday conversation. For example “Did you catch the game last night? It was a total craptwat.”

  8. That song is now running through my head. For what it’s worth, once you make it through this one, you will feel the most amazing and joyous sense of freedom from it all. . .

  9. I am on the verge of emailing EL James to ask her to write three more books of this vacuous twaddle, just so you can read them and say more funny things. Would you hate me? You’d bring joy to so many people! (Although Goofy and Hugo might try and murder you in your sleep.)

    1. Guaranteed Hugo would murder me in my sleep. He’s already insinuated that with his burning look. I flipped to the end to see if they die or something and there’s an excerpt of the story told from Christian’s viewpoint so you just might be in luck and I might have to lop off my head.

    1. I can’t help if you are sucked in by the subtle use of “double crap” and the way characters are described arching and pursing their noses and other facial features. That is some good double crap right there.

  10. I am so starting my Halloween costume shopping right now. I want to be the first to show up at a party with a pubestache.

    Fame has not been good to Goofy and Hugo. I can see them appearing on celebrity rehab in the future.

  11. How have you managed to refrain from stabbing yourself repeatedly while reading this dreck? You’re a better woman than I am. I had myself voluntarily committed after only one chapter of the first book.

    I’m still surprised that Christian didn’t just subject Ana to a super sexy Brazilian wax. But then we would have missed out on the pubestache, and we all would have been the worse for that.

    1. I do stab myself repeatedly. In the face with a bottle of crisp, cool Pinot Grigio just the thing those two dim bulbs drink every other paragraph.

      The pubestache will be huge this fall. You will see Posh Spice or whoever is supposed to be a fashion icon sporting one on her/his face at some very important awards/fashion show.

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