50 Shades of Grey

Fifty Shades Fungholery (Fifty Shades Freed: pgs. 51-100)

Hm. I thought the book Fifty Shades Freed ended with Anastasia Steele Grey’s down there resembling a sphynx cat. But apparently those are sentences that fill the 528 pages following pages 1 through 50, and while the sentences make little to no sense, Hugo assures me that they do in fact continue on with the story. Here is what happened if you missed my first recrap of this book:

Christian Grey and Anastasia S. Grey rubbed parts vigorously; sometimes against one another, sometimes against innocent bystanders. A barely functioning synapse fired in Ana’s head, and produced the thought “Crapdong.” Frogs rained from the sky and immediately began humping swarms of locusts.

You are caught up.

(For all recraps of this series, visit this page)

The Greys are still mooning over each other by mooning each other on their honeymoon. Christian wants to go pick out art for their new home. How can I buy art? Ana dumbs. First guess…with money? Second guess…with Cool Ranch Doritoes®? Christian assures her that they’ll pick what they like, and not worry about the art being an investment. So yes, the poster of the kitten hanging from the tree with the saying “I’d Hit That” is completely acceptable for the foyer.  Investment…jeez, Ana double dumbs.  Seriously Ana, what the funghole is your problem?

The art trip reminds Ana of Gia the architect Christian has hired to redo their house. We have not met Gia, but guess what? She drowned in a sea of drool when she set her sights on the overstretched gray fabric concealing the giant Grey dong. Ana hates Gia. Ana hates all women, but most of all herself.

On their trip to Saint-Paul-de-Vence, the couple are followed by security, but Ana feels comfortable “tucked under” Christian’s arm. How is that possible? Is she made out of newspaper?

They look at art and Ana has dumb thoughts–Did Christian destroy the box of naked photographs? Should I let him take photos of me? Has the security team eaten? Is E.L. James just writing whatever the fuck pops in her head?–and feels things in her groin where her brain is located. Guess what? The female gallery employee wants Christian and asks if she can hang a picture of his ball sack next to the Renoir.

At lunch Christian randomly reveals why he likes to braid Ana’s hair “The crack whore used to let me play with her hair, I think. I don’t know if it’s a memory or a dream.”

Awwww.

Wait, what the fuh did he just say?

“‘I like it when  you play with my hair.’ (Ana’s) voice is hesitant.” Then she drops the bombshell: “I think you loved your birth mother.” Christian is stunned and he has fathomless gray eyes. His twitchy fathomless mouth, however, is not speaking to Ana. She feels poopy.

But then:

“He gives me that look, down his nose, half amused, half wary, wholly sexy, then tucks me under his arm, and we make our way through tourists toward the spot where Philippe/Gaston has parked the roomy Merecedes.”

He examines the indentations the handcuffs left on her wrist. “It’s not sore,” Ana keeps saying and then thinks he can be savage some times. This is the greatest marriage of ever. Seriously if you are married right now, your marriage totally sucks compared to this one. Get divorced…jeez.

He buys her a bracelet and all better. The “stick thin” sales assistant stares at them like a jealous jerk face. My handcuff indentations looks so much rawer than hers, Ana thinks triumphantly (I might have made that up).

Ana really likes other women, can’t you tell?

In the car, Christian presses the button to activate the privacy partition and pulls Ana’s feet into his lap to examine the handcuff indentations on her ankles. He’s sad. She starts to give him a foot job. He’s happy.

His phone rings. “In the server room? Did it activate the fire suppression system?” Ana removes her feet. Christian doesn’t want the fire or police departments involved because his cock is on the case. Some more unrealistic one-sided phone banter–“Yeah, sounds like the argon is just as effective, worth it’s weight in gold”–and we learn there was a fire in Christian’s offices, but it was restricted to the server room and blooper ball bleaker bloom argon goldsticks. What I wrote makes just as much sense as anything E.L. James thinks up.

Ana tries to strangle herself. At least I think that’s what “My hand clutches my throat in fear” means, and she thinks what’s next.

Back on the boat Ana’s bored because Christian’s too busy to fiddle with her sex button. She wants to go shopping and take the jet ski. When she goes to ask him for permission (!) she thinks why do I feel like I’ve entered the principal’s office? Maybe because you’re asking your husband’s permission to engage in normal human activities. I understand she has to get written approval to do a number 2.

He lets her go, but she doesn’t say anything about the jet ski and her subconscious chastises her.  Taylor, Christian’s main henchman, admires Ana’s chutzpah or handcuff indentations, I don’t really know or care, but it’s pointed out that he gives her a constipated smile.

Ana thinks it’s ridiculous that she has three members of the security team with her even though she was strangling herself with fear two pages ago. She jet skis around the sea, and sees Christian glowering at her from the yacht.

Taylor relays the message that Christian’s pissed. Oh my poor pathologically overprotective husband, what am I going to do with you. Likely nothing and continue to live like a Madame Alexander doll kept on a mantle. But yo, check this, Ana doesn’t appreciate being scolded by Taylor because he is not my father or my husband. There are no words.

She shops. She buys a cheap ankle bracelet, and feels empowered or stupid or something. She calls Jose for advice on what to buy Christian because time zones be damned. Jose is chilly then stunned, and I am not stunned that I don’t care.

She buys Christian a camera because he likes nudey photographs. She presents it to him, and even though she can barely look him in the eyes, she says she’d like him to take beaver shots of her.

Christian doesn’t seem too happy about that and my subconscious glares at me like I’m a domesticated farm animal.

Christian says he knows he objectified women in the past by taking their photographs. All air leaves Ana’s body and she dies. Yay!

Oops, wishful thinking. Christian is unraveling. Ana thinks clearly for once, and notices how he keeps looking at her wrists. Oh, he’s upset about this and the fire and other craptwats.

She decides the best tactic is to take pictures of his alarmed face. “‘Well,’ Ana says. ‘It was supposed to be fun, but apparently it’s a symbol of women’s oppression.’ No Ana, that would be you.

They have sex. 

Did you guys hear me? I said they have sex.

Just to let you know I have a mangled ninja turtle and a headless barbie (thanks 1pointperspective!) waiting in the wings. And they can bang like nobody’s business.

After Christian blasts his hose into Ana’s loin fire, he confesses the office fire was arson. Someone is out to get Christian, Ana worries, but luckily seems to be just as dumb as Ana and Christian.

They head back to the States. Christian wants to carry Ana over the threshold. He’s pleased she’s put on weight. You love me even though I’m fat Ana teases through gritted teeth while she “fists her fingers” in his hair. How does one fist one’s fingers? Do Ana’s fingers each have tiny fingers that can be balled into fists?

Lunch at the in-laws. Ana’s in a funk. She’s upset Christian called her a fatty boom-ba-latty. She picks at her food. “I am going to take you to the boathouse and finally spank you in there if you don’t snap out of this mood,” Christian whispers. Christian penned the book Overcoming Depression: One Spank at a Time.

Later Christian tinkles on the piano, and the whole room stops when he begins to sing.

Apparently his family has never heard him sing before, and it’s just as exciting as that scene in the The Music Man when Winthrop busts out a verse of “The Wells Fargo Wagon” except Winthrop was 6 and Christian is a “grown” man.

Christian lets (!) Ana drive home. She grinds her vagina into the pedal, and loses the security crew. Urgent phone call to Christian. They’re being followed!!

Yeah, by the security crew.

No! By somebody else and the security crew knows this even though they lost Ana and Christian’s trail because they’re precogs or something.

Ana inserts the gas pedal directly into her super vag and takes off. I weave between the two lanes of traffic like a black piece in a game of checkers, effectively jumping the cars and trucks. What is this the Matrix? Can I take the blue pill and live in a fictional world where this book doesn’t exist? Please, Morpheus.

Ana swerves directly into the path of a tractor trailer and they are flattened like pancakes–be it highly erotic pancakes. Christian is able insert his waffle-shaped penis into Ana’s mail slot one last time and she takes her last breath climaxing.

Oops, wishful thinking again. They’re still speeding as we end on page 100.

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.

Fifty Shades Dumber (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 451-544)

This is it, gentle reader. The dark shade will be lifted and we can walk into the light together. Or at least go outside and stick a toe on a blade of grass and then run back inside and bathe in the light of the TV.

What am I blathering on about? I honestly don’t know because 10 minutes ago some fluid and brain bits streamed out of my ears when I hit the last page of Fifty Shades Darker: The Edge of Reason. I tried scooping some up and slapping it on my head, but I still feel really, really stupid. So what better time to wrap up this final recrap?

(For previous installments, click here)

Holy crap plausible plot twist! We begin on page 451 with the horrible news that Christian’s helicopter, the Charlie Tango, is missing! And it could have fallen down that well!

Ana is so upset that she can only muster a description of the flames in the fireplace as dancing and weaving “bright blazing orange with tips of cobalt blue.” She wishes she could rub her lady bits against Christian’s meat sword in front of that fire.

More reminiscing and flash-backing ensues:

We learn the many sides of Christian Grey: “control freak, CEO, stalker, sex god, Dom.” By all means, someone find him–fast!!

Then Christian appears. His family embraces him. He locks eyes with Ana and narrows them when he sees Jose holding her hand. Do you see how a near-death experience changes a fella?

We get the riveting helicopter story: fire goes bla-bloom and chopper goes wah-wah and bippety bop flop. Christian and his number 2, Ros, landed on an island with a smoke monster, and walk back to civilization. Walking was slow because Ros was wearing heels, that fucking bitch. Cell battery’s dead. Couldn’t stop to call because he figured Jose was raping Ana in his absence.

Everyone, but Jose, leaves when Christian pulls Ana into his lap like a baby.

Okay…um…weird. We’re out, Christian. Glad you’re safe, says Christian’s dad.

Jose decides to go to sleep when Christian starts thrusting his hands in Ana’s hair.  Christian wants to shower. Ana’s wrapped around him like a barnacle, and for some reason he cannot move because he’s holding his jacket. I can’t explain it, and I’ve read it three times. He won’t drop his jacket because he has the wrapped birthday present from Ana inside it.  He opens it, and it’s a key chain from Oriental Trading Company that reads “Butt Plug of the Year.”

“Turn it over,” Ana whispers.

On the back, it says “Yes.” Ana has accepted his marriage proposal, and it’s just as lame as expected. They head to the shower and talk about expectations as a married couple.

I’m joking. They bathe in their bodily fluids.

Christian remarks how the keychain is better than some signed kick boxer poster he has. Wow, what a compliment. I think I’ll tell my husband I like my engagement ring better than that Call of Duty™ throw rug I almost won at a county carnival.

Next morning Ana makes Christian breakfast. Jose is already there masturbating into his oatmeal. They have a normal conversation about Ana’s great love for Christian, and then Christian shows up and I’ll let Ana describe him:  “Holy fuck, he’s wearing only pajama bottoms that hang in that totally hot way off his hips.” I understand most of the general public wears its pants around its collective neck so that does sound hot. He swaggers around and freely sprays pee to mark his territory. Jose passes on breakfast after Christian pees on the omelette.

Christian asks about Jose’s plans. Jose is going fishing with his dad and Ana’s step dad Ray. Jose and Christian bond over men stuff like man caves and war. Ana thinks: “They’re talking fishing. What is it about fishing. I have never understood it.” Well Ana, fishing is a sport that entails the use of poles and bait to attract fish. Fish live in water. Humans live on land. Sometimes humans eat fish.

Jose leaves, and Ana wants to give Christian his other two present because “(t)he thought of my present is burning a whole in my consciousness.” That might need medical attention. That sounds like an aneurysm.  The second present is a toy solar-powered helicopter. He sets it in the sun and the rotors start to spin.

“Look at that. What we can already do with this technology,” Christian murmurs in awe. I have a feeling Christian would be impressed by one of those matchbook-sized sponges that expand into a full-size sponge when you dunk it in water. The things we can do with technology these days.

Ana wonders if Christian’s helicopter, the Charlie Tango is salvageable. Christian hopes so because he misses her. And Ana predictably feels jealous of a mode of transportation.

The next present is an eye mask, nipple clamps, a solar-powered butt plug and a key to the red room of pain. Christian asks if there’s anything Ana won’t do, and she says she wants no photos, eluding to the box of illicit photographs she found. The butt plug she chose was too big, another one is too small, but Christian’s pinky finger is jusssssssst right! Ana gasps “Fingers. . . there?” Yes a butt plug is just so normal, but a finger? Heavens to betsy!

Christian chooses a different set of nipple clamps, and Ana frowns thinking he knows just so much more than her. She only out bests him in cooking. Well dang, woman, you’re a woman. What did you expect? You might also be better at sewing and getting paid less, so buck up!

Ana notices all the canes have vanished from the room. She wonders if Mrs. Jones the housekeeper removed them to be polished along with the silver. Christian cuffs and blindfolds her.

He pours oil over her and has her suck on a pacifier-shaped butt plug that vibrates. He inserts the plug in her hoo-hoo and sticks his finger in her butt. They do it again and Ana has another epiphany of the many shades of Christian Grey. . . “the sweet, gentle persona, his rugged, I-can-do-what-I-fucking-well-like-to-you-and-you’ll-come-like-a-train Dominant side–his fifty shades–all of him.”

I’m beginning to see many sides to author E.L. James. The I-just-write-whatever-pops-in-my-head-and-people-will-lap-it-up-like-a-big-pail-of-dirty-butt-plug-cleaning-fluid writer and the shitty writer.

Lots of filler. Ana makes dinner. Christian thinks her skirt is too short. He calls Ray and asks for Ana’s hand. Ray is skeptical but thinks Christian is a nice guy and knows fishing.

And more filler. Christian asks Ana why she brought up taking photos before he greased her butt crack, and she mentions finding his stash of photographs. He said they’re for insurance so his subs won’t expose him. “The penny drops and rattles uncomfortably around and around in my empty head.” Explains so much about Ana.

She bakes him a cake. He says it’s evocative. Oh yes, the crack whore birth mom baked. How…nice?

They head to a birthday party at Christian’s parent’s house. Kate makes a beeline for the couple, and snarls she needs to talk to them. She has read the email Ana sent with questions about the BDSM contract. Ana is pissed at Kate for being concerned because she is in an abusive relationship lurve and that contract was, like, so two weeks ago.  Old news, yo. Kate actually apologizes to them. And to Christian twice because she is a terrible friend to question his desire to control Ana’s body, mind and spirit.

Party time. Elena’s there. And the blonde server who wants to serve up her vagina to Christian. Ros is there as well, but she is the only non-related woman who doesn’t salivate over Christian’s elephant penis…and that’s because she’s a lesbian. Yup.

Christian makes his big announcement:

Both Ana and Christian are pissed when his sister Mia asks about a ring and a date. Yes, what completely inappropriate questions. These two butt plugs are made for each other.

Dr. Flynn is there too with his wife. “Glad you’re still with us, Christian,” Dr. Flynn says. “My life would be most dull–and penurious–without you.” Does anyone else get the sense that E.L. James wrote this with a giant thesaurus on her lap? It just seems so..um..penurious? And..um…dum. I need to get a thesaurus.

Elena confronts Ana and begins to assume the persona of a police officer in a third-rate cop show. “Not so fast missy… You’re making a big mistake here lady.” When Elena calls Ana a “mousy little gold digger,” Ana throws a drink in her face. Christian turns up and Elena wants to be the only vaginal-ball-wearer in his life. Christian’s mom overhears the whole exchange and kicks Elena out. Ana makes a beeline for Christian’s bedroom and gathers up the courage to look at the photograph of his crack whore birth mother.

Phew! She is so not prettier than me, Ana thinks.

Christian finds her and they talk about Ana’s need to eat. Oh thank god, I was hoping that would come up again since it never comes up except all the time.

He takes her to the same boathouse where he angrily pounded her when she wouldn’t let him finger her at the dinner table. This time, the boathouse is filled with flowers and he gives her a ring.

It’s not the end though.

The whole book is from Ana’s first-person perspective, i.e., the penny rolling around in an empty head, but now we switch gears to third person from the perspective of a mysterious man who is clearly Jack Hyde. He is sitting outside the Grey mansion in his car.

Things we learn:

  • He tampered with the helicopter
  • Grey’s a prick and doesn’t know jack shit. (I think that’s a clue!!)
  • Mystery man was from the gutter end of Detroit
  • Ana’s a little bitch.
  • Mystery man’s ribs still hurt from the rib-kicking from the prick’s henchmen.
  • Grey is a mother fucker who will get it good.
  • I do not want to read the third book.

Fifty Mood Swings (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 401-450)

Ana calls Christian with the news of her promotion in the beginning of pages 401-450 of Fifty Shades Darker: Meet the Fockers. She worries that he pulled a few strings since he orchestrated the take over of the publishing company, but he is as surprised as the rest of the universe.  

(If you feel the need to torture yourself and want to know how we get to this point, click here)

Apparently Jack really rated me,” Ana tells Christian.

Do you mind if we pause for a second, gentle reader?

First, I don’t know what that means. Did Jack give Ana a movie review of two dongs up? Second, Jack was fired the previous night for trying to attack Ana. I’m just thinking that’s the reason based on the fact that Jack tried to blackmail Ana into sex and then Christian had him fired. Does anyone else find it strange that Jack’s opinion of Ana–oh excuse me, rating of Ana–would be influential in her promotion?

Well Bob, Jack gave Ana, like, five stars on that rating card. 

Hmmm you don’t say, Bill? Wow, that’s fantastic as crap. Who’s Jack again?

Bob, Jack’s the guy we just fired for attempted sexual assault.

Ooh, bummer, Bill, but I guess we should still take his judgement into consideration.

Let’s continue. Christian becomes frosty for one second then caring the next second then pissed the third second and then loving the last second. A toddler hyped up on pixie sticks is more even-keeled than Christian Grey.

Ana forgets she made a lunch date with Christian’s sister Mia. Kate’s brother Ethan turns up conveniently and Ana foists Mia off on him by giving him the “biggest-bluest-longest-eyelashed look.” How is this book popular? Seriously world. I’m giving you the biggest-stinkiest-hairest-eyeballiest hairy eyeball look.

Christian sends her roses and emails something insinuating he wants to fuck outdoors. Fantastic.

Next up is the meeting with Christian’s therapist Dr. Flynn. Ana is pissed that the female receptionist greets Christian warmly. Ana says the office has the atmosphere of a “gentlemen’s club” so I take that to mean strippers and sticky chairs and floor.

Ana wants to talk to Dr. Flynn in private, and Christian is very accommodating of that. Just kidding. He pouts and acts surly like he does 95 percent of the time.

Dr. Flynn explains he’s using the therapy SFBT–Super Fun Butt Teasers for the lay person. Christian has a lot to deal with like his haphephobia, Dr. Flynn explains. Ana immediately thinks Dr. Flynn is talking gay stuff and is relieved when she learns it means fear of being touched because she is the worst.

Dr. Flynn now addresses Ana’s central issue–her brain stem not connecting to her spinal cord Christian’s sadism.

People change, is basically what Dr. Flynn says. “After all what you’re asking for is not unreasonable,” he says. Ana flushes and thinks No, it’s not unreasonable, is it? I just slammed my head into the dining room table, gentle reader, but I’m okay.

Then she digs out this chestnut: “Part of me thinks if he wasn’t broken he wouldn’t want to be with me.” Yikes. Seriously, yikesville.

Before Dr. Flynn can sign Ana up for a year’s worth of sessions with Stuart Smalley, Christian comes back in glaring at both of them, and then perks up and says “Let’s go celebrate your promotion.”

She wants to drive to their celebration, and he doesn’t want her to, but she does want to and this fight goes on and on while the theme song from The Itchy & Scratchy Show plays on repeat in my head. She drives and then pulls over so she can look at him while they talk about Dr. Flynn. They fight and glare and smolder. Then Christian drives fightely.

We’re treated to this very necessary observation:

“Whoa. I’ve never heard him sing, not even in the shower, ever. I frown. He has a lovely voice–of course. Hmm…has he heard me sing?”

WhywhywhywhywhywhywhywhyThanks!

They arrive at a house. A woman opens the door and predictably flushes when she touches Christian. Were you aware that Christian Grey is the finest specimen of shit bag on the planet? Ana sees the “biggest rug I’ve ever seen.” Mmm. Tell me more. Ana looks out the window and my eyes begin to bleed into the cerulean sky as I read this: “Vermilion hues bleed into the cerulean sky, with opals and aquamarines, and meld with the darker purples of the scant wispy clouds and the land beyond the Sound.”

Dear E.L. James,

Never try to describe a sunset again. Just write: The view was neat.

Sincerely,

The earth

Christian wants to buy the house for them.  “Christian you had me at cock ring meadow,” Ana platitudes. Christian is so happy “his hands are suddenly thrusting into (Ana’s) hair.” What is it with the hair fisting and thrusting?

More celebrating at the Mile-High Club, which Christian owns, obvs. He tells Ana to take off her panties. She does in the bathroom while her inner goddess struts around in a pink feather boa, diamonds and fuck-me shoes.

Okay.

She sits next to him, and he alternates between rubbing his thighs and feeding her oysters. He refuses to touch her. This is “sexy.” Ana assumes the mating position by raising her rear quarters and unleashing a torrent of spray, but Christian still won’t touch her.

He wants her to eat. Surprise! She doesn’t want to because she’s hungry for some grey bologna.

She tries to seduce him by eating asparagus and having her urine smell musty, but he rips it from her hands. “(Ana) feels like a child who has been denied candy.”

Excuse me for one sec…I just need to puke a little.

When she finishes her plate, Christian says “Good girl.” Pause again. Just some stomach bile this time.

Then he finger bangs her in the elevator with a bunch of people around. It’s just dry heaves. I have nothing left to bring up.

Christian wants to cock bang at home, but worries they’ll only make it as far as the car. Ana wants to get the gear shift implanted in her butt, and Christian feigns horror at her audacity. And then this completely comprehensible exchange happens:

“‘I’ve never had sex in the car,’ I mumble. Christian halts and places those same fingers (ewwww) under my chin, tipping my head back and glaring down at me.

‘I’m very pleased to hear that. I have to say I’d be very surprise, not to say mad, if you had.’

I flush, blinking up at him. Of course; I’ve only had sex with him. I frown.

‘That’s not what I meant.’

‘What did you mean?’ His tone is unexpectedly harsh.

‘Christian, it was just an expression.'”

So that was normal, right?

Now they’re in the apartment. He’s about to plow, and she’s “aware that the usual vase of flowers is missing. Huh?” And that is so relevant because….um..

Then there’s just some good love making. He yells at her “Open your eyes!” and when she doesn’t comply quickly enough, he thrusts “sharply into (her) so that (she) cries out.”

“I blink my eyes open, and he stares down at me wide-eyed. Slowly he withdraws, then sinks into me once more, his mouth slackening and then forming an Ah.” For some reason, this scene reminds me of A Clockwork Orange:

This is “sexy.”

The next day, Ana thinks of another birthday present for Christian. She goes into his closet for one of his ties and finds a box of illicit photographs from the red room of pain. That woman with the genital clamp on her face is so much prettier than me, Ana thinks.

Vermilion ones bleed with cerulean zeros into a meld of words and sentences sent through the darkest purples of cables into the opal networks and aquamarine BlackBerry devices of Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele. Or they send each other emails.

Christian doesn’t reply to the last missive about whether one can really look at clouds from both sides now. Ana begins to worry, and worryingly has drinks with Jose and some other people.

I’m worried I won’t finish this book because of the vomiting.

Fifty Types of Butt Plugs (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 351-400)

We begin pages 351-400 of Fifty Shade Darker: Porky’s Revenge with author E.L. James’ favorite literary device–the email exchange.

(To find out how we got to this incredible email exchange, start here)

Ana and Christian email how much they want to boink each other, but then Christian starts to emphatically insist Ana use her BlackBerry to email rather than her work computer while he continues to send emails to her work email address. Normally I would ignore this in the same way I ignore references to Christian’s battering ram-sized pee-pee and Ana’s complaints about not being pretty–but this comes up later.

Jose calls to say he’s delivering Christian’s pictures of Ana and is looking for a place to crash. How will Christian like that? Ana wonders after hanging up the phone. Boooo.

Ana’s boss Jack Hyde is acting as if he caught his dong in a drawer. He snaps and demands coffee and breaks his “World Greatest Boss” mug.

Kate’s brother Ethan calls and asks how Ana’s doing. “A quick montage of images flashes through my mind–Christian kneeling, his revelation, his proposal, macaroni and cheese, my weeping, his nightmare, the sex, touching him.” Even better if the montage was set to the tune Hungry Eyes by Eric Carmen.

Ana sits in Starbucks, puts in her earbuds, hits repeat on the song “Smell Yo Dick” and ponders whether she should marry Christian:

He still needs to learn boundaries and little things like empathy, and to be less controlling, Ana thinks. Is that all? Then by all means, take the plunge.

She’s late getting back to work, and Jack’s eyes almost blaze a hole through her head. He growls at her to stay late. When she complies, he tries to attack her:

He delivers the type of soliloquy normally reserved for the villains in Scooby Doo cartoons. He talks about checking through her email and seeing emails sent by her to Christian Grey, but nothing sent back. Are you a spy? he wonders. He goes on to say he expected gratitude for giving her a job, and if Ana puts out, he won’t dig in further into how her boyfriend’s pulling strings, milking contracts or cashing in some favor from one of his Ivy League frat-boy sycophants.

Huh? When did this turn into an episode of Melrose Place?

What can I do? Ana wonders.  This news of Christian’s takeover of the company is embargoed for three weeks.

Wha?

I feel like I don’t understand English. What is happening exactly? Can’t he just attack her because he’s gross…what is with this faux intrigue that makes no sense?

“Listen you tight-assed cock-blocking bitch! I know you have the antidote, but it’s mine, you prick-teasing bitch. Mine! And if you don’t give it to me, I will detonate the dynamite strapped to your vaginal balls” he spits fire.

Okay most of that I made up except for the words in bold. Those are gems from E.L. James herself. Ana knees Jack in the crotch, runs outside and collapses on the sidewalk because she hasn’t eaten anything. Of course.

Christian and his man servant Taylor run up to her. And get this–Christian is pissed. She tells him what happened, the near rape and bad dialogue, and he is pissed. At her.

And then he gets pissier during this exchange:

“‘Christian, he has my emails.’

‘What?’

‘My emails to you. He wanted to know where your emails to me were. He was trying to blackmail me.’

Christian’s look is murderous.

Oh shit.

‘Fuck!’ he sputters and narrows his eyes at me.”

Have they not read the same emails that I have? They basically email how much they want to entwine their genitalia or about other things too dull to recall. How is this blackmail worthy?

She begs him not to be mad at her!?!

“‘I told you to use your fucking BlackBerry. Don’t talk to me about stupid. Get in the motherfucking car Anastasia–NOW!’ he snarls and a frisson of fear runs through me. This is Very Angry Christian. I’ve not seen him this mad before. He’s barely holding on to his self control.”

Better not let that one get away!

Jack leaves the building with his belongings because he was shitcanned. “And I woulda gotten away with it, if it weren’t for those meddling kids,” Jack tells the security guard.

Christian’s surly and pouty in the car and only talks to her when they enter the elevator. His “hands fist” in her hair (ow!) and he jams his tongue down her throat. “If anything ever happened to you…”

Psycho…I mean, *sigh*.

They eat dinner and Ana requests permission to see her friend Jose. Boooooo. More arguing because this is such a Sweet Love Story™.

Christian has to do some man work such as pushing a boulder or raping a chicken. Ana, bored without anything up her cooch, wanders around the house and into the red room of pain. She looks through some drawers and finds Christian’s stash of butt plugs. Of course, Christian shows up because he can hear a butt plug pop from 20 yard away. Ana worries again if he’s mad.

He sounds fun.

Instead he gives her a tutorial on butt plugs, anal beads and nipple clamps. Ahhh, takes me back to 6th grade health class. For complete coverage, click on the audio.

This tutorial makes dark desire pool in Ana’s groinal region. Granted pretty much everything including mayonnaise being spread on a hamburger bun makes dark desire pool in Ana’s fun tunnel, but she really wants to bang some butt plugs together in the red room of pain:

Christian can’t–his eyes cloud with cataracts (seriously, his eyes cloud all the time. That can’t be good?)–Ana left him the last time he flayed her skin with a belt while in the red room. Yes, it was the red room not his beating her that was the problem.  They take the spreader bar and spread ’em in the bedroom.

Lots of arrghhing and slamming.

Next day, Ana’s all worried about her job. Christian lets her drive her new Saab to work. Boyfriend of the Year, am I right ladies? He’s in the passenger seat because she’s a dame and if she gets her period she will attract bears and then possibly crash her car into a Baskin Robbins.

She arrives at work and is immediately called into Jack’s boss’s office. She thinks she’s going to be fired, but instead she is asked to fill in as Jack’s replacement because with being a recent college graduate, having one week job experience and spending the majority of that time emailing her boyfriend about sexy time though the company email, she is obviously the best fit for the job.

I think the words “shrewd mind” were used, and I laughed so hard my butt plug popped out.

A Pad of Rivals

I’m taking a momentary hiatus today from my Fifty Shades community service obligation to attend to an important issue. Don’t worry, gentle reader, I am almost certain Ana and Christian are happily poking things in their respective holes while I focus on something else.

So much has happened last night, and it would be amiss not to talk about it.

Bachelor Pad 3 premiered.

I’m going to give you a few seconds to let that sink in.

Wait–there was a Bachelor Pad 1 & 2?

Yes! But this one is waayyyyyyyyy more bachelorey. According to Doris Kearns Goodwin’s A Pad of Rivals, “(t)he sexiest, most outrageous and most controversial bachelors and bachelorettes in bachelor history are back.”

It’s true! There’s that guy who can open and close blinds, and the one who can sit contemplatively on steps. There’s the woman who has grown so much and the other who uses the word “frenemies” and looks like a bloated Paris Hilton. And then there’s that guy who drives up to the camera and says “I’m back.”

Okay, who are you exactly?

“I’m pretty sure America hates me,” he continues.

“I’m pretty sure I don’t know who you are,” says America.

This is him. Maybe you know him?

It’s me. I’m back! You know. Me. Right? It’s me. I’m that guy. Don’t you know me?

Wait…is that Ed Grimley?

Host Chris Harrison is standing in front of the mansion and he tells us for the ninth time that these are the most memorable people, which helps because I don’t remember anyone.

Now apart from the most memorable contestants in the history of this sentence, there are also some “lucky” fans who will get a chance to contract chlamydia from their most favorite bachelor reject.

There’s Paige who looks exactly like Ellie Kemper. “I’m so excited. Is this real life,” she says.

“No,” says Reality.

There’s Chris who is a SWAT officer and is shown shooting guns and tackling people. He loves The Bachelor franchise. He loves it so much that his judgement is clouded and he allows himself to be filmed watching The Bachelor. By himself. In a candlelit room. In his blue pajamas. Sipping wine so intensely I think his eyes are going to fall out.

Then there’s Donna. She parades around in bikinis. She believes The Bachelor was literally made for her, further cementing the truism that no reality television contestant knows what the word “literally” means. For further proof, check out my recap of Bachelor Pad 2. And yes, I lead a very fulfilling life while I watch this show in my Forever Lazy® guzzling my box of wine.

Then there’s David and he boxes and is literally four-feet-tall.

And finally, without further ado, I’ll lift up this latch and here’s Twin 1 and Twin 2. Now these twins are a hoot, they’re so so much fun, but to speak very plainly, they’re dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb.

The tension is mounting, someone unrecognizable says. I look in the dictionary to make sure “tension” still means the same thing.

First limo arrives, and it’s…the guy who can open and close blinds, Chris B. He’s here to heal. Sure.

Then it’s Lindsey and she was on that Bachelor starring the guy who looks grimier than John Mayer.

Ed arrives. “What am I doing here?” he asks Chris Harrison. He then sees Chris B. and Lindsey. “What’s going on here?” Hm. Does he really not know?

Then Nick shows up and he’s bright red and then there are so many people who are so controversial or unrecognizable.

Donna the fan arrives and she is all a-fluttery over Chris Harrison and shits herself when he says her name. Awww.

SWAT Chris takes a picture of himself with host Chris.

I seriously think these fans want to have a relationship with Chris Harrison. I would if I were on the show. He seems the most clean.

The twins become remarkably lucid upon entering the mansion. “I feel like so subhuman,” says Twin 1. “I honestly feel like I’m in Disneyland. I feel like I’m a robot.”

Ed, who still possibly might not know where or who he is, strips to his underwear and jumps in the pool.

Chris Harrison shows up to explain the game. The contestants pair up, compete in challenges. If you win, you get an immunity rose. Boys vote off a girl and girls vote off a boy. Some couple will win $250,000. No one leaves with their dignity intact.

First competition involves the couples cramming themselves like factory-farm chickens into these hearts. The hearts are suspended in mid-air and tipped forward every couple of minutes. Whichever couple stays the longest, wins.  This is “tense” and “memorable” and “exciting”.

The twins and boxing David win. Erica and her partner Unmemorable lose and immediately get one elimination vote cast against them. The Bachelor veterans are pissed because they hate the twins.

David and the twins go on a Bachelor-style date, and they reminisce about how much it reminds them of all these other Bachelor dates–Oh! This is like that date where Bentley gave Bloofely herpes!–…and jesus christ, young people. You know in my day, we kept our obsessions with reality television stars in the privacy of our own homes with our stalker shrines and vials of urine.

David strategizes with the twins. He thinks the fans should vote as a bloc to kick off Erica and Unmemorable. Not a bad strategy except he tells everyone–including Erica and Unmemorable.

This leads to a big confrontation between Erica and David where Erica speaks in a valley girl monotone that make her threats seem chillingly chill. “I think you’re an ugly loser and your plan is not going to work,” she drawls. “Who calls themselves a fan, like that’s pathetic.”

Another moment of lucid thinking.

People start campaigning as if they are Kelly Taylor vying for homecoming queen in an episode of Beverly Hills 90210. 

Rose ceremony time and SWAT Chris and Paige get kicked off. Donna is spared because of her giant breasts, David realizes his days are numbered and the twins stare off into space with their dead, dead eyes.

Upcoming challenge involves a spelling bee. Not to be missed.

Fifty Shocking Revelations!?! (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 301-350)

Holy cow!

Lots of revelations in pages 301-350 of Fifty Shades Darker: Bride of Chucky. Crap! I just soiled my pants again. Third time since I started this post. That’s because the revelations are just sooooo revelatory. It’s just like in the film The Sixth Sense when we find out M. Night Shyamalan will go on to make a series of terrible movies. Except that one where the trees cause people to stick knives in their faces…no, I’m sorry that was also really, really bad.

(For previous recraps, click here)

So strap on some Depends® because shit just got 60 shades darker. And I don’t even know what that means!?!

Remember Leila? And the “danger”? Yeah, I didn’t either, but holy crap suspense! She’s, like, in Ana’s apartment.

What?

No seriously, the phone call is coming from inside the house. Inside the house! So Ana goes to her apartment to pick up her roommate’s brother, and she gets buzzed inside. But it isn’t her roommate’s brother. It’s Leila.

And Leila’s got a gun.

I’ll give you a second to process that and also change into fresh pair of Depends®. You know what? You might as well forgo the adult diaper and just lay a piece of tarp on the floor to catch the freely flowing defecation.

You ready?

Ana’s hair follicles tighten with terror when she sees Leila. Ana might want to see a doctor because that is a very bizarre physiological reaction–if she survives this incredibly plausible ordeal. Oh my god! This is, like, so tense and crap.

Leila looks like the little girl from The RingShe speaks in sing song and wonders why Ana looks like her and “Why does Master like us like this. . . Master is dark.”

See? That’s why it’s called Darker Shades of Glop.

Christian bursts through the door, and Ana feels the “charge” between Christian and Leila and gets all jealous and refuses to leave because what if he kisses Leila and stuff?

And then Christian orders his man servant to carry Ana out and drive her back to his apartment, and Ana’s all like….Whaatttt!!! He loves Leila! Because she is clearly a giant, fucking idiot and has the emotional depth of a Hot Pocket®.

Ana instead gets her drink on with her roommate’s brother.

She finally goes back to Christian’s apartment for the showdown of the century. This is just as tense as the time Kim Kardashian got her butt x-rayed to prove it was a real butt.

Ana says “Look you clearly like stringy sewer rats and I’m not as good as that.” Christian says “No” and shakes his head and says “No” and clenches his jaw and says “No” and bends his knee and says “No” and squeezes his eyes shut so tightly that eyeball fluid flows down his cheeks.

And then he becomes a submissive.

Huh?

Just go with it, okay. It makes perfect sense.

It does?

Um…yes.

So Ana and her three brain cells have to get him back. She twirls her vagina in his face, but that doesn’t seem to work.

So she opts for confession:

“I just don’t get why (you) like me.”

So, so complex…if one was a 7th grader.

He snaps out of it because E.L. James needs him to, and he explains why he wanted Ana to leave him alone with Leila, which was understood by the rest of the planet when it first initially happened.

Big confession time. This is almost as earth shattering as the time that one Bachelor chose that one person on The Bachelor VIIMCII and everyone was, like, her?

“I’m a sadist, Ana. I like to whip little brown-haired girls like you because you all look like the crack whore–my birth mother,” Christian says.

Jeez, that’s going to make Christian’s sub/dom 2012 reunion super awkward, you guys!

Ana’s all like, does he think his crack whore birth mom is prettier than me?

Then he asks her to marry him.

Zzzzzzzz….

Are you even listening anymore.

Whoops! I meant to say, what?

Yup. And honestly what gal could say no to: “I like to beat girls who resemble my crack whore birth mother. Marry me”?

Ana says she needs some time to process. Christian asks if she’s hungry and his “eyes frost” when she confesses to not eating. I love the whole eating stuff, it’s just so stuff and stuff, you know what I’m saying and stuff?

He gets her to eat macaroni and cheese, which she calls “nursery food” because she’s an asshole. Then Ana decides she wants to know what Christian did with Leila.

He gave her a bath and packed her off to a mental institution. Ana freaks out about the naked bathness. This is the straw that broke the vaginal ball’s back. To hear it in all it’s crap glory, click on the audio: 

Ana goes to bed and then wakes up and thinks Crapballs then she hears Christian screaming. He’s having a nightmare. He lets her touch his chest and they rub genitalia.

Ana says she wants to talk to his therapist about Christian’s private therapy sessions. “Sure, why not?” Christian says.

Ana gets to work late and her boss Jack Hyde is a pissy shitbag.

And that’s where its ends. So much, so much to process. So much feces to clean up, thank god for the tarp, right?

Will Ana marry Christian? Will Christian be able to overcome his desire to beat brunettes who look like his crack whore birth mom? Will Ana get to work on time the next day?

Fifty Pages of Emails (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 251-300)

Halfway there gentle reader. Halfway there. Would it be problematic to say Fifty Shades Darker: Honey I Blew Up the Kids (thanks Angie) ends at page 300?

I think at this point we can guess that Christian Grey will fill up Anastasia Steele’s tank with high octane semen. They will send email that will make you wish humans were never given the gift of communication. And Ana will think thoughts that show she has the emotional maturity of a stinky fart.

For more stinky farts, check out these past recraps here.

Okayokayokayokay pages 251-300 here we go….Ana’s at work recuperating from a weekend of sailing and screwing. And now we get the emails that contribute nothing to the story but everything to the downfall of civilization.

So this goes on until archaeologists uncover my desiccated corpse in the year 3012.

Ana’s sleaze ball boss Jack Hyde sends her out for lunch, and Ana feels like she’s being watched–which she is, by Christian’s hench men. Love? Yeah, this ain’t it.

Christian gets all shouty in the phone because she’s not allowed to be in the open because of the “danger” posed by Leila.  And she’s like “poop” and hangs up. Jack says she has to work late and looks at her lecherously because every man wants Ana. Is that not clear? Try to keep up.

They work late. Jack tries to “accidentally” smoosh his body into hers.

So they continue to engage in realistic dialogue for adult human beings, and he says “You like your boyfriend?” And Ana’s vagina engorges just at the thought of Christian’s Twizzler®-like fingers poking into her. “I love him,” she breathes.  “What’s his surname?” Jack asks using terminology that normal adult human beings employ in normal conversations. Of course Ana flushes because she has a fire in her pants and says “Grey, Christian Grey.” And Jack puts his erection away and dissolves into a puddle. “I’m melting,” he shrieks. “I’m melting.”

Ana leaves work and gets into a car with Christian. They breathe and mutter and anger at each other. They then hump in the elevator:

If you would like to experience the elevator grind in greater detail, click on this audio:

Now they’re in Christian’s apartment. They say boring things and suddenly Christian’s man servant announces Elena is on her way. Elena is surprised to see Ana there and I like unsweetened tea, which is just as relevant to the story as anything else.

She’s there because she’s being ransomed.

Sure, why not?

And that is what happens. Ana eavesdrops. Christian goes on and on about how she’s his future, but he’s unworthy. And I once had a cat named Raffles and when he died I got a second cat and named him Raffles the Second.

Ana goes to sleep and wakes up and finds Christian playing a melancholy song on the piano. I feel like this has happened before, maybe 400 other times, but it’s still really powerful. Or not. Not at all, actually.

Hey guess what? They pound the piano keys whilst pounding into each other. Christian says something really creepy about not letting her come because she argued with him or some such grossness.

Ana feels like she doesn’t know much about Christian. Like, she doesn’t know if he would, like, drink tea at night or stuff. And then, like, I realize I don’t know, if, like, my husband would do that either. And I’m like whoa.

She tries to get more info out of him with some stealthy questions. “Do you have any happy memories of your childhood?”

“I recall the crack whore baking.”

Betty Crocker–I think you found your next marketing slogan.

Fifty Pages of A Lot of Nothing (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 201-250)

Christian Grey buys Anastasia Steele a Saab to replace the vandalized Audi. If you want to know how the Audi was vandalized or who the bleep are Christian Grey and Anastasia Steele, click here.

They eat seafood chowder, drink beer and blather about topics no human is interested in at some pub on the marina.

They sail in Christian’s yacht. They drop anchor in a secluded bay and bang in the master bedroom.

They head back to the marina and eat dinner at a little Italian bistro next to the pub. Ana orders risotto. We don’t find out what Christian orders–Fuck! That’s going to be driving me crazy all day. More great conversation:

They drive back to Christian’s apartment. Christian’s tense because he’s worried about Leila still. They grind in the elevator. Ana flirts with Christian’s man servant Taylor and Christian sulks in the corner and sucks his thumb. They bicker about Ana going to work because of the “danger”.

They play a game of pool in the billiards room, and make a bet. If Ana wins, she gets a romp in the red room of pain. If Christian wins, he gets to do whatever. Christian wins. He spanks her with a ruler, and sticks his flesh pool cue in her flesh billiard pocket.

That’s all that happened, and somehow E.L. James manage to stretch that out for 50 excruciating pages, pages 201-250 to be specific. There is a conversation about car models and car colors. There is a lengthy passage describing the interior of the yacht. Everything is “all pale wood” and there are doors and steps and walls and air and atoms that become molecules and deep, fucking despair on my part. You would have to read it to believe it.

And that’s why I made you this. This audio track takes an excerpt from pages 213-216 if you want to follow along with your copy. Just to give you some background, they’ve taken six years of my life to get on the goddamn yacht named The Grace and now are finally fucking sailing it because jesus christ, who gives a shit:

https://speaker7.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/fiftyshadesdarkerpg213.m4a

Mother, May I Sleep with Fifty Shades? (Fifty Shades Darker: pgs. 151-200)

Jeezus cripes, gentle reader. What can I say about pages 151-200 of Fifty Shades Darker: Freddy vs. Jason that could possibly be better than this:

akt by Rainer Augur

This is “art” inspired by Fifty Shades. I’m not sure if the green swirly stuff in the groin area is suppose to be Ana’s face, a member of the Na’vi tribe or Nickelodeon slime. I had to edit out the erect peen because this is a family-friendly blog (it is?).

I was going to end the recrap here, but then you would miss out on this sentence:

“Leila–the girl who looks like me–that’s the most startling image my brain conjures for conjecture, that and her eerie presence in Christian’s bedroom.”

Say what, now?

Okay, let’s get through this. Lemme first down an entire bottle of Benadryl. If you wish to understand my pain, you can start at the beginning.

Christian and Ana are in Christian’s childhood bedroom. He ties Ana up with his bow tie and spanks her. Let’s forget that Ana hates spanking because character consistency is, like, so crap. She “comes and comes” and then they clam dive. They return to the charity event just in time for the auction dance.  Dance dance revolution. The man who engaged in the bidding war for Ana’s addled brain asks for a dance. Turns out it’s Christian’s therapist Dr. Flynn.

Why not?

Ana’s nervous because she’s afraid he will diagnose her with erythrophobia–pathological blushing.  I don’t mention it in every recap, but Ana blushes furiously, bites her lip, and looks at her hands or fingers every three sentences. Christian curls his lips, flashes or mists his eyes and extends his talon-like fingers every four sentences.

Ana thinks big thoughts: “Why is Christian so fucked up? Why did (Flynn) bid on me? That’s the only thing I want to ask him, but somehow that seems rude.”

Okay.

They have a weird conversation because everyone in this book is a giant weirdo.

The ethical doc says he cannot tell Ana about Christian. “Besides, we need until Christmas.”

Ana gets all blushily huffy: “You’ve just confirmed what I’ve been saying to Christian. . . that you’re an expensive charlatan.”

I probably don’t need to point out that she has never said anything remotely like that to Christian.

I’m beginning to wonder if the author E.L. James has ever had a conversation with a real human being or has she gleaned her knowledge of human interaction from viewing Ed Wood movies and marathons of The Real Housewives of New Jersey?

Potty time. On the way there, Ana runs into a masked stranger who desperately wants to talk to her. Let’s just forget that a crazy woman is after Ana and a team of security guards are watching Ana’s every move and let this interaction take place, ‘kay?

It is Elena, Christian’s former dom.

Another bizarre interaction. Christian loves you, Elena tells Ana. “But what I want to say if you hurt him again, I will find you, lady, and it won’t be pleasant when I do.”

Wha the fuh?

This is starting to resemble a big Lifetime Original Movie. Ana’s in lurve with a mysterious, wealthy man she knows little about. She’s in danger!?! Crazy exes are threatening her!?!

They head home. Christian wants Ana to get some sleep so her down there is well rested for its gynecological visit the next day. Ana sulks.

“‘Its my body,’ (Ana) mutters annoyed that he hadn’t asked (her).

‘It’s mine, too’ he whispers.”

*swoon*

They arrive and–oh no!–someone’s slashed the tires and thrown paint all over Ana’s car. The security team fears the person is inside Christian’s apartment. Christian enters against the security team’s wishes to fight off the intruder with his giant green-swirly peen. Nothing happens except it’s really, like, tense and stuff. Or not.

Later, Ana wakes up disoriented and think she sees a figure at the edge of the bed. She finds Christian. They want to penvag and head back to the bedroom and–oh no!–the balcony door is open. Nothing happens except it’s really, like, tense and stuff. Or not.

Ana and Christian hightail it to a hotel. They register under an assumed name. The female hotel clerk is so turned on by Christian, her hands shake. She inserts the card key into her vag and hands it to Christian. That last bit didn’t really happen, but it’s just as believable.

Ana makes an insightful observation seeing a women in the lobby feeding a tiny dog. “So, the hotel allows pets? Odd for a place so grand!”

Not unnecessary at all.

So, they screw in the hotel room? Odd for a book filled with pointless screwing!

Christian watches Ana sleep in an Edward Cullenesque way. The obgyn comes and berates Ana for stopping the pill, and says she could be pregnant. My mind is very foggy, but I think Ana started taking the pill 10 days ago and Christian wears condoms and I don’t care.

She’s not pregnant, but she’s pissy and sulky and won’t tell Christian what’s wrong and is all passive aggressive about it until she finally tells him and I don’t care.

“My natural inclination is to beat it out of you, but I seriously doubt you want that,” he says.

What a guy.

They splooge.

Christian says he’s nothing and I don’t care, but Christian’s in lurve with Ana and I don’t care.

“It’s such a liberating realization, as if a crushing millstone has been tossed aside,” thinks Ana.

What the fuck?

Ana has transformed him with her ice-cream vag and sophisticated lexicon (“fart blossomy crap nugget”).

More thinking Arby’s®.

And zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.