Fifty Sighs of Relief (pgs. 451-528)

It’s here, gentle reader.

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

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

Let’s end this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He uses many implements:

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

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

Big discussion time.

Ana: I don’t like the spanking.

Christian: Well I do.

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

So he beats her with his belt. Romance!

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

Ana cries and leaves him a glider model kit:

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

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

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

Fifty Shades of Ewww (pgs. 401-450)

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

Please do not dispose of your tampons in toilets.

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

Why am I bringing this up?

Just wait…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s so creepy hot and sweet!

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

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

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

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

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

Only one more recrap to go!

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

We’re almost at the finish line.

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

That’s really hot!

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

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

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

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

Christians leaves for a second and returns with a box:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Till next time, gentle reader.

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

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

As many as the dominant says it takes.

Bada-bing. I’ll be here all week!

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

Don’t look me in the eyes.

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

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

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


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

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

Too soon?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ana’s subconscious reacts:

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

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

Holy crap farts!

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

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

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

But first a word from our sponsor:

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

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

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

Here is Ana’s:

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

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

And more sexing:

And even more sexing:

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

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

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

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

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

Fifty Shades on Repeat (pgs. 201-250)

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

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

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

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

There’s some lip biting.

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

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

Questions remain about certain provisions of the BDSM contract:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fifty Pages of Gobbilygook (pgs. 151-200)

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

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

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

Let’s carry on!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only 314 pages to go!


This is the Sexy Part? : Fifty Shades of Yawn (pgs. 101-150)

Bam chicka bam bam.

Oh yeah. Things are getting really holy cow now, dear reader. It’s, like, almost as hot as that bachelorette party I attended where a guy showed up in a Domino’s Pizza uniform and shook his pepperoni stick, if you catch my meaning.

You don’t? Well in the next 50 pages, Christian and Ana get it on like a couple of glowering, muttering, feeble-minded, two-dimensional paper towel holders, and those things can f*** hard. If you wish to know how these characters got to this point, you can read my previous recaps here and here. These will be of no help.

Before Christian’s cartoonishly large penis can penetrate Ana’s down there (E.L. James’ vivid word choice, not mine), he shows her his red room of pain:

E.L. James describes this room as a big uterus that smells of Pledge® (slight paraphrasing). I hope my picture does her description justice.

Christian also hands Ana this:

Crap sausage, Ana thinks. I’ve gotta read something that’s not British literature!?! Poop schnozzle!

“Is there anything you’d like to add?” Christian asks, taking a sack of frozen dog poop out of the refrigerator to defrost.

Holy dog crap! Ana thinks and chomps on her lower lip causing blood to spurt all over the walls. “I haven’t gotten jiggly wiggly with anyone.” Christian smashes a crystal goblet against the fireplace. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me,” he growls (actual line from the book).

Christian decides to rectify the situation by making love to her lower lip and other parts of her body, specifically the down there part where the thing goes in and then goes out and then goes in again. Is it getting hot in here? I’m going to go open a window. Jesus Christ! It’s 95 degrees outside.

So yes, they do it and she gets tied up in her bra a bit–and fine–and he nibbles and fingers and jerks and leans and moans and growls and she responds with pirate noises. Seriously, she says “Arrgghh” a lot. Not as much as “crap” though:

He “pour(s) himself into” Ana a couple of times and then it’s beddie-bye bye. Ana wakes in the night to the sound of Elmo playing his out-of-tune piano. This is to signify that Christian is “sad”.

Next morning, Ana makes breakfast. Christian insists she eat the skillet and spatula along with the pancakes. Then with nowhere else to go, the author decides it’s sexy bath time. Ana impresses Christian by being able to insert his entire body in her mouth.

They continue the romp-in-the-hay in the bedroom. This time Christian ties Ana’s hands together with his grey tie.

Holy crap, you guys!! Did you realize his name is Grey and his tie is grey and this book is called 50 Shades of Grey. What do you think it all means?!?

I guess I’ll find out when I slog through another 50 pages. I need to rework  my Hard Limits for next time. This daily flogging is really taking a lot out of me.

Fifty More Pages of Pfftttt (pgs. 51-100)

Clearly I’m a masochist.

This explains why I was able to slog through nearly 50 more pages of Fifty Pffttt. The experience has been…what’s the word I’m looking for…twaddle waddle? Sure, that seems about right.

If you missed my first installment, click here. I don’t have the strength to rehash the beginning. The only thing I can tell you is that “crap” is a noun, verb and adjective. You are now caught up. Holy crap on a biscuit!

So let’s continue…

Christian Grey had just told Ana Banana that he is not the man for her, and her subconscious thinks Crap show. She receives a package in the mail. It’s a bunch of old Teen Beat magazines. It comes with this note:

She deduces it’s from Christian. She sends her subconscious a note asking if Christian likes her. Check the yes or no box. Her subconscious writes back Fuck you.

She tries to get him out of her mind by drinking herself unconscious at a bar. That sounds so good right now.

She ends up drunk dialing him.

Christian’s all pissed and demands she divulge her location. “Crap stick,” she mutters and hangs up. Christian arrives just when her male friend Jose tries to eat her chin. Ana spews everywhere. “Dios mio,” Jose stereotypically yelps.

She passes out to the sound of Christian sneering “Fuck” and wakes up in a hotel bed.

They sneer and mutter and blush and gasp at one another. Now it’s breakfast time. Christian is all up in arms about not wasting food and I get hit in the head with a very big foreshadowing hammer.

At various times, Ana’s subconscious wears half-moon specs and a red hula skirt.


So she’s scarfing down food and then blushes and then stops to bite her lip. This sends Christian reeling.

Christian wants to stay away, but he can’t because he likes the smell of her blood the way she chomps down on her lower lip. They make plans to have dinner later in Seattle as he escorts her to the elevator. Once they board, the ions react with his Axe body spray and cause loins to start lubricating and Christian to speak inexplicably in weird staccato sentences.

Off the elevator, Christian is impassive and calm and cold and clinical and Ana is confused and confounded and confuddled and concrapped.

He takes her in his own private helicopter and flies her to his home in Seattle. They talk about control and soaring and concentration and I get another blast by the foreshadowing hammer and I say “Thank you sir, may I have another?”

His house is big, like really big, like, big like a big house that has big rooms in it. Before he can, in his words “fuck hard,” he wants Ana to sign a document.

And that’s where I leave you today. I’m going to go locate that hammer.

50 Pages of Meh (pgs. 1-50)

Holy cow!

I just read the first 50 pages of 50 Shades of Grey and I’m blushing furiously. Crap! Get it together Speaker7 my subconscious sneers at me like a frothing jackal hopped up on bath salts. I slap it brutally and continue with this sentence.

There. I feel better getting that out.

Now I know a lot of people have read this book–more than 25 I think–and have spanked themselves with a lint brush while doing so (my friend, not me), but maybe you, dear reader, have not had the nonpleasure of immersing yourself in the lives of Anastasia Steele and Christian Grey.

This is why I’m here so you don’t have to suffer. It’s really, really poorly written, almost as if it was translated from Chinese into English by a 13-year-old girl who does not understand Chinese or English. There is an 85% chance I will not pick up the book again unless I’m ordered to by the sock puppet I’ve labeled “Sock Monkey Christian-Edward-Jacob”.

So hold onto your riding crop and clench down on your ball gag because now: Speaker7 Wearily Proudly Presents a Cliff Notes Version of 50 Shades of Grey with Pivotal Scenes Reenacted by Hugo, the man of 1,000 faces, and Goofy, the recently named blue bunny. 

Crap, thinks Bella Ana Steele with her brain-like brain, as she navigates a grill brush through the mop of hair she calls a hair mop. I need to study for finals and write essays and curl up on a couch and read British literature, but crap-on-a-stick! I have to go interview a non-interviewed-lots tycoon because my strawberry-blonded tenacious, gamine, demanding, intense, confident, beautiful, assured, runny-eyed, flu-ridden roommate is besieged by flu-ridden germs which have given her the flu. Ana knows dick about this dude and is incapable of typing his name into a Google search engine so she’s, like, crap prepared.

Ana stumbles into her car. She’s very uncoordinated due to her exposure to fetal alcohol syndrome. Driving ensues. She arrives at a glass building that is all white, all steel, all cold, all clinical and all blonde-haired-staff like. Elevator’s fast. Some waiting and inner monologue, e.g. Crap! Holy Cow! Fart Blossom, and our two protagonists meet. . . well Ana takes a face plant into Christian Grey’s office:

Although Christian’s 10 feet away, he is able to pick her up with his freakishly long fingers and shocks her with the electromagnetic field surrounding his body.

Sparks fly literally:

Christian appears to suffer from Tourette’s. He cannot stop his mouth from quirking up and curling down. He tilts his head and arches his eyebrows incessantly. He rubs his kebab-skewer-like fingers across his lips in the style of cartoon characters who are demonstrating another cartoon character’s craziness.

Ana questioningly questions him:

At times, Ana cannot keep her schizophrenia at bay. The voice in her head makes her think certain things then reprimands her for thinking them. She slaps herself in the face while Christian looks on impassively, curling a lip, arching an eyebrow, then extending a finger to press an elevator button 60-feet away. He wants her to stay, but she’s like, crap. So she leaves. Double crap.

Ana works at the hardware store. Then goes home. Then works at the hardware store again where she is besiegedly besieged by do-it-yourselfers. During a lull, Ana feels a steel-grey gaze and looks up and locks her eyeballs into a steel-grey gaze that is coming from the steel-grey eyeballs of steely eyed Christian Grey.

He smirkily buys stuff. They talk huskily, breathily and mutterly about cable ties, masking tape and rope.

Ana’s face is as red as a stop sign recently repainted even more red, like, think really, really red, like, so bright you would think “Wow, that’s definitely not green!” She gets Christian to agree to a photoshoot for her roommate’s article. Craptastic! her subconscious sings.

Glamour shots.

Christian invites Ana out for coffee. It his opportunity to turn the tables on Ana and ask her questions. “What would you like to drink?” he murmurs, eyebrows arched in a mysterious manner. He then admits to finding her mysterious. On the walk back, Ana almost gets run over by cyclist.

Christian saves her at the last possible second. How did he move so fast? she thinks, could he be a vampire?!? “Holy cow crap,” she breathes into his marbled long-fingered arms. I want to chew on his mushy mouth, she breathily thinks. Kiss me, crapdammit!

And that’s as far as I’ve got. I don’t know, maybe they might meet up again?

I need to go lie down now.