crap

Fifty Shades Buzzed (Fifty Shades Freed: pgs. 401-450)

Okay, gentle reader. I begin this recrap with a couple caveats. (For more recraps, click here)

First, I don’t know what caveat means.

Second, I’ve drunk two glasses of wine and am seriously considering a third because I am reading pages 401-450 of Fifty Shades Freak after all so the likelihood that this will be coherent is as likely as E.L. James writing an interesting book with non-butt pluggish main characters.

We begin with Ana curled up in Christian’s lap while he sends emails.

Just go with it. I feel it looks “artsy.”

Detective Clark wants to interview Ana about that fucker Hyde, Christian mutters through his clenched peen.

Detective Clark shows up. Ana blushes when she sits down on the hotel couch covered in her vaginal fluid. Clark tells Ana that Hyde said she sexually harassed him, and she told lies to get his job. He also said you were a stinky face and had cooties, Clark continues. Ana continually gives Christian charley horses throughout the interview to prevent him from beating Clark about the face with his testicles. After, Ana says Christian is very “sweary” and I’m very tired. More wine, garson!

Contrivance Ray is moved to a rehabilitation center in Seattle. Ana shows up to be weird and call him “Daddy” which he says he likes and…yeesh. While she leaves, she hears her name being called. It’s Dr. Greene, the roaming gynecologist. Ana’s missed four appointments and like Dr. Greene does with all patients, she’s tracking Ana down to say “Whas up, yo?” Ana’s scalp prickles so we know nothing good is coming. Dr. Greene just miraculously can do a pregnancy test even though I have to call 4 months in advance to schedule my regular check up, but I don’t have a Cadillac vagina. Ana’s preggers.

What? No. No. No. Fuck.  I’m imagining these are the thoughts of the fetus upon realizing the identity of its parents. Or it could Ana. E.L. James has purposely left it vague. Or she sucks as a writer.

Dr. Greene, of course, has time for an ultrasound. Why not? Does Ana want a vaginal facelift too?

“‘If you’ll just slip off your skirt, underwear, and cover yourself with the blanket on the table, we’ll go from there,’ she says briskly.

Underwear? I know, weird right? I always wear 10 layers of underwear during my gynecological visits. Don’t trust her Ana!

Ana’s worried about Christian’s reaction. “I’m fat and awkward, heavy with child. He paces the the long hall of mirrors, away from me, the sound of his footsteps echoing off the silvered glass, walls, and floor. Christian. . . “

Ana goes back to work. There are emails.

Christian collects her like Star Wars action figure later that night. She is wary. Christian demands to know why she is not as wet as normal. She also hasn’t eaten. “‘Do you want me to add ‘feed my wife’ to the security details list of duties?'” Christian bores.

They visit Ray. Christian and Ray talk about baseball, fishing and ejaculation–men topics. Ana says she’ll see him tomorrow That’s provided Christian hasn’t locked you away . . . or worse. Wha? I mean, I’m drunk, but even in inebriation I can tell that’s fifty shades of fucked up. Oh my god, do you see what I did there? I don’t either.

Ana finally confesses to the pregnancy, and Christian acts like a Newt Gingrich would about his 10th mistress. He snarls, his brow furrows, he says “fuck”, he closes his eyes, he has an anger force field, his “eyes burn so many emotions.” Then he leaves.

He comes back drunk. He sniffs her hair. He calls the baby an invader. Ana’s scalp prickles and she uncovers that he’s been with Elena, Mrs. Robinson, when she sees a text from her.

Yup.

So he’s a dick and she’s a wet piece of toast for 12 or so pages. Then we get the 125th plot twist of stupid. Jack Frost has Mia. Ana’s scalp prickles with ridiculousness because even her scalp is like “The fuck?”

So the “prick-teasing” gold-digging whore” has to pay some ransom or Mia bites it. Let’s not remember that Hyde was remanded with no bail because boo.

Jack wants $5 million, vaginal ball. No one can know or he will kill Mia and yawn…no more wine. I can’t drink anymore. That is the serious tragedy here, people.

Ana has to evade her security team and I just don’t want to read anymore, but what a vag-tastic (™sweetmother) plot twist.

What do you think will happen next?

Fifty Shades Frogurt (Fifty Shades Freed: 101-150)

I have no strength to write a crafty opener to introduce pages 101 to 150 of Fifty Shades Frogurt, but let’s be honest have any of my openers been crafty? More like crappy, amirite. Up top, subconscious. (For previous recraps of crap, click here)

When we last left our “heroes,” they were being followed by some random car. They still are. Christian Grey is being kept up to date on the car’s location by his henchman Sawyer while Ana floors it. Ana is confused because Christian keeps saying “Luke.” Ana’s all like “Wha?”

“That’s his name.”

“Luke Sawyer?” Ana dumbs, and at this point even Christian hates her. Then Ana dumb-thinks How did I not know his first name?–during a high-speed car chase no less. Christian refrains from grabbing the wheel and driving off a precipice out of irritation and instead directs Ana to a parking garage. He points to a space, and Ana dumb-thinks Shit! He wants me to park it. Crap! What does she normally do? Stick it in neutral and jump? Jesus christ, this goddamned book.

They lose their pursuer, and that makes them want sexy-time so Christian fills up Ana’s tank. After, Ana feels drained and she “mewl(s).” Ugh.

The Greys learn their pursuer is female. Any moment, I expect to read how Ana is jealous of her. Christian sets his mouth in a thin, angry line and Ana tries to give him a hand job. He stops her hand because he doesn’t want to have an accident. Cool, calm, authoritative. . . My Fifty. And for the first time in a while he makes me feel like a wayward child. Gentle reader, do you mind if we pause?

Ana says she feels like a child because she can’t continue her hand job.

They arrive home. Christian wonders if he should fuck Ana on top of the car when a sleek BMW pulls into the garage. A young guy gets out and Ana says he looks like he works in media. What is he wearing a fedora with “PRESS” tucked in the brim? Media guy, who introduces himself as Noah Logan and who cares, flushes when he shakes Ana’s hand. Why is no one normal in these books.

Christian tells Ana she has another admirer–derp–and Ana rolls her eyes. Uh-oh, spanky time and I really think the majority of the punishment is being meted out on me. Ana wants it rough.

So now we’re in the red room of pain. Ana notes its Pledgy-vagina aura. For some reason E.L. James thinks it’s necessary to describe Ana listening to Christian set clothes and shoes on the floor…seriously, she spends a whole paragraph on this. It is hot as fungus. Speaking of fungus, Christian sticks his fingers in Ana, spreads their mix of bodily fluids all over her butt and then sticks his fingers inside her again. There is a reason doctors tell women to wipe from front to back. We will not get into it here because I love you.

Then Christian puts a plug up her butt.

After, Ana wonders who cleans the butt plugs. Either Christian or Mrs. Jones. I would have liked to see how that was broached with Mrs. Jones. “Mrs. Jones, I like my coffee black and my butt plugs sparkling. When can you start?”

We learn Ana and Christian have had a past argument about Ana returning to work. Ana is now an editor rather than acting editor, which makes sense since she was an acting editor for little less than a month before taking a three-week hiatus to get married. I got married during my stint as a reporter and my bosses made me Queen of the newspaper during that time. It came with a sash and everything. She’s not changing her name at work and hasn’t told Christian yet. That should go over well.

Ana uploads pictures from the new Nikon camera she bought Christian and discovers he’s taken thousands of pictures of her sleeping. That would make a great slideshow of their vacation. Here is Ana drooling. Now here is when Ana farts a few times. Here’s Ana sucking her thumb (and that actually is true. I enjoy how E.L. James constantly infantilizes Ana, and by enjoy, I mean I wish I could gargle Drano). She becomes overwhelmed by her feelings for Christian and thinks about all the stupid implausible plot points E.L. James has shoved between the acts of butt plugery and has to see Christian immediately. She bursts into his office while he’s on the phone trying to get security tape enhanced so he can see who set fire to the server room. Ana knows who it is: Jack Hyde.

Da-da-dumb!

Christian is jealous that Ana recognized him from the “line of his jaw,” and seriously I’m kind of with him because what the fuck does that mean? The guy on the other end says they still have the contents of Jack’s hard drive. Ana wants to know what’s on it. Something about Christian, but he won’t tell her what because he’s a withholding butt munch. 

They eat dinner–some twaffle waffle about Ana being barefoot in the kitchen, but Christian hopes not pregnant because he doesn’t want “to share her”–they bore me with architectural plans, and now watch TV, which Christian hates and I didn’t think it was possible to dislike him more. Ana wants to make out. Christian never has, and then creepily wants a complete accounting of all the guys who felt up Ana. I would rather read a detailed history of the Crusades.  Jesus, dude, she married you, okay, and has agreed to be your living Barbie Doll. Lighten the fuck up.

He sticks his fingers in her and makes her taste it. Awesome. “I’m like a starving man at a banquet when it comes to your touch,” he cheeses. He hauls off her top. Ana’s naked beneath it. Seriously? You mean she’s not wearing 400 undershirts? Jesus christ, this goddamned book. I would not be surprised to read My body involuntarily eliminates waste. 

They do it.

Next day, Christian drops off Ana sans butt plug at the publishing company. She encounters her assistant Hannah who is “tall, slim and ruthlessly efficient” so Ana basically hates her. Hannah gets Ana a latte–“the only coffee I let her get me.” Honestly, why is this in here? This offers nothing and I know that pretty much every word in this book offers nothing, but I’m getting a little upset by these meaningless asides of stupidity. The tablecloth in my dining room is yellow.

Ana gets an email from Christian since it’s been three minutes since he’s taken her rectal temperature. He knows she is going by Steele rather than Grey. She emails she’ll explain everything later. And that should be enough to placate him, right?

Wrong, he shows up at her work, shooting her “a blazing look” of douchery. He ssss the Steele in her name like Harry Potter speaking in parseltongue (Oh J.K., I miss you). He farts something about his assets needing rebranding. I am not a freaking asset! Ana yell-thinks, but doesn’t say because, god forbid, she shows a backbone. It goes on for an eternity. Ana tries to reason with him saying she had no idea he would buy the company she worked for and now it makes things a little squiggly for her since she’s married to The Man. He wants everyone to know she is his and the wedding bands and wedding butt plugs are not enough.

He says: “I want your world to begin and end with me.” Yeah, I wouldn’t be surprised if this book ends with a murder/suicide; Ana’s murder, my suicide.

Here’s how that whole name-change discussion went down between me and my then fiancé.

Me: I’m keeping my name.

Mr. Speaker7: Okay.

Me: On second thought, I’m going to take your name.

Mr. Speaker7: Okay.

Blah, blah, blah Christian is going to change the name of the company to Grey Publishing and give it to Ana so that will make it weird since her last name is Steele, he makes up on the spot.

But I’m not a shitbag like you, Ana says. You read, Christian counters. And then Christians wants to stick his shitbag dong in her and Ana cringes “Not here. You can fuck me seven shades of Sunday this evening.”

Jesus christ, this goddamned book.

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 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.

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.

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?”

Yup.

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.

Ew.

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.”

*sigh*

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.