Let’s Finish this Twat so I can be Fifty Shades Freed (pgs. 501-548)

This is it, gentle reader.

The end.

It took some time getting to this point. My brain has shrunken to the size of a vaginal ball. I no longer recognize how sentences are properly constructed. And I’ve begun to call the wart on my left thumb “my inner goddess.” I sometimes dress it in cheerleading outfits.

Since we’re at the end, I would like to let you in on a little secret:

I fucking hate this book more than I fucking hated the other two.

The other two sucked an electrified butt plug, but this book is the king of the shitheap hill. There was no reason for it–no reason for any of them–but really no reason for this other than for E.L. James to make a bazillion more dollars.

Let’s get this over with. We left off with Ana saving the day with her lima-bean-sized brain and gun-firing skills, her in-and-out-of consciousness in the hospital and Speaker7 praying for an early demise.

Christian remembers that his foster mother called him “baby bird,” and suddenly Jack Hyde’s ransom note makes sense.

I’m glad it does for you, Christian, since I have never seen or heard anything about it. This from the author who included Christian’s BDSM contract verbatim. TWICE!

Baby bird is from the book Are You My Mother? Christian explains. Jack knew he loved it.

Will you tell the police? Ana wonders.

Okay, stop. Let’s stop. What the fuck is going on? Why is this relevant? Anybody have a theory?

Thanks Hugo. Fair point well made ol’ chap.

Ana wants to bang, but Christian wants to talk about Mrs. Robinson raping him.

Awesome.

As a teen, Christian did yard work for her so he had money to maintain his drinking habit. Good thing that’s cleared up since he drinks daily.

He made some smart-ass remark and Mrs. Robinson slapped him. Then she kissed him and slapped him again like some cardboard heroine from a 1950’s movie.

“‘Well naturally I was confused and angry and horny as hell. I mean, a hot older woman comes on to you like that–‘ He shakes his head as if he still can’t believe it.

Hot? I feel queasy.”

Way to keep perspective, Ana. Yes this is the exact moment to get jealous.

Mrs. Robinson made the world make sense until Ana turned everything upside down with her super vagina and commendable lip biting abilities.

More blather about loving her so much and her being the greatest thing since the hot dog dicer. He then explains his dickish actions when she told him she was pregnant. He left to see Dr. Flynn, but Dr. Flynn was running the bake sale or some such made-up shit at the local school so he went to the salon to talk to Mrs. Robinson.

They split a bottle of wine since Mrs. Robinson was the one who got Christian to stop drinking. She made a pass at him and he was like ewww.

Ana wonders if they kissed.

Christian said he thought about junior Grey having relations with an adult, and realized maybe it wasn’t all hunky dory.

Christian tells Ana he wants to be the center of her universe, but knows that’s over once the bun is cooked in her oven. Ana platitudes bullshit about children loving their parents unconditionally. Um…other way around, tootsie roll, say all parents of teenagers.

A day passes. Ana’s horny. She decides to dress sexily and brush her hair sexily. She wants scrambled eggs for breakfast and this greeted as surprising news by all, except for me because I’m scraping a fork against my eyeball.

Argue-time over whether she can go to work. Then she sees he’s wearing pajama bottoms. I don’t know if they’re hanging off his hips in that way. Are they? Are they??!?!??!?

He’s staying home too to keep Ana under guard so she won’t get into trouble like put a fork in an electrical outlet or get into the cleaning supplies under the sink.

Christian starts to feel up her leg with Mrs. Jones in the room. Banter about wanting to screw, and Mrs. Jones is trying to hide her smile, according to Ana. I really don’t think Mrs. Jones gives a fuck, but okay Ana, it’s from your addled-brain’s point of view.

They go to look at the boring house renovations and have a boring picnic in the meadow. Uh-oh–phone call from Welch. Mrs. Robinson’s ex Linc was the one who bailed out Jack Hyde!

Holy shit! Wait–who the fuck is he? And why the fuck do I care? And fuck?

Christian will destroy him. Awesome. This is as compelling as if I learned Noah Logan was behind it all. Remember him? Yeah, I don’t either, but at least he made an appearance on one page in this book unlike the super villain Linc.

The bankrupting of Linc gets them all hot and bothered and they screw. It’s the same-old, same-old. Some hair fisting, teeth clashing, inflaming loins. Christian pokes his fingers through her panties, which causes them to disintegrate. (?) Guess what? Ana’s wet. Like always.

Two more days pass, Christian is playing his dopey piano, but not the usual sad melody, something upbeat “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Ana uses this time to compose a stupid email and sneak off into the playroom. End, goddammit! End.

Oh, it’s the epilogue – May 2014.

Everyone’s dead.

Unfortunately no. For some reason we go back to the time in the playroom, and they do it. Why this needed to be a flashback is something that will require me to travel to the year 2014 and flashback upon.

Back to the future again. Ana’s pregnant with second child, a daughter. She tells Christian that the baby is dancing and makes the completely appropriate remark: “I think she likes sex already.”

*cue the montage*

Then Christian says this gem: “I’m looking forward to the taste of breast milk again.” I’m so glad they’re able to find a use for their babies in their sexual escapades. That seems so….fuck.

They play with their boy Teddy, and the end.

Wait a second. . . I’m at page 548, and what is this shit? Shades of Christian? Oh no, no, no, no, no. Nope. You do not get to tack on your writing exercises at the end, E.L., for me to slog through after I just read 4,000 pages of your potato scrapings. No thank you. NO. No I do not need to read the first flippin’ book again from Christian’s perspective. Guess what, y’all. It still sucks. What’s next? From the perspective of the pencil sharpener?

Shades of a Pencil Sharpener

Holy cow, these two are fucking idiots. You’re damn right! Who said that? It’s me, your inner pencil sharpener. What’s up, dawg? You want to go sharpen some pencils so we drown out these morons’ hissing and muttering and arrghhing? Word.

(To go to the beginning of my decline, click here)

 

Fifty Shades Neverending (Fifty Shades Freed: pgs. 451-500)

Once upon a time, there was a little Speaker7 who desperately wished she never heard of Fifty Shats of Grey. But heard she did, and now as she clings to her last functioning bit of brain and the anti-freeze digesting in her stomach, she dreams of a mostly bleak future when Fifty Shats Freely will be finished.

Two more recraps after this one. Two more, her inner hellbeast thinks while its razor-sharp teeth cuts through the cardboard cut-out meant to represent Ana Steele Grey’s inner goddess. (For more brain-damaging fun, click here)

Now we’ve just experienced a litany of plot twists that makes me surmise E.L. James had no idea what to write between the clinking of genitals. I had you vote on what you thought would happen next, and the majority voted for Speaker7 drinks a fourth glass of wine. I wish, gentle reader, I wish. But alas that was not the correct response.

You must be wondering which one was correct. Or like me, don’t give a shitball of shit. Well I won’t leave you guessing too long. There is a Pad of Bachelors I need to recrap after all.

So there’s a kidnapping and Ana is trying to get $5 million dollars rounded up. Should I just stop here and say this is the worst plot twist ever? Or is that shooting myself in the foot because in the next 50 pages, Ana will be flying to Tibet to rescue the Golden Child from evil sorcerers?

Ana’s at the bank. She has Leila’s gun tucked in the waistband of her jeans. I will laugh so hard if she gets arrested.

The bank teller gives her an “insincere smile” which earns her the clever moniker “Miss Insincere Smile.” Hate. I’m feeling such hate at this moment. Miss Insincere Smile arches an even more insincere eyebrow, and what the fuck is that? What is that? How is that done? Miss Insincere Facial Features asks sarcastically “You have an account with us?”

FUCK THIS BOOK.

This does not happen. Maybe in the cafeteria of some 1980’s teen movie where the nerd can’t sit at the cool table, but then gets a new haircut and a pleather jacket and suddenly has an all access pass to Popularityville.

Ana’s vagina answers “This is the human encasement for the mighty Grey schlong.” Miss Insincere Gimmick gets all flustery and pees a little, and rolls out a tiny red carpet just big enough for a ruby-encrusted vaginal ball.

Ana gets passed along to the manager and there’s back-and-forth over this withdrawal being highly irregular, and I’m sorry the time this takes? Yeah Mia is dead. You had two hours, Ana, not two years. I guess the manager calls Christian when he leaves for the 18th time and Christian thinks Ana is leaving him and wants his money. He hisses at her to “take it all,” which must be hard because there are no sibilants in that sentence.

Nine more years pass, and Ana finally gets the money, but sees her security detail in the lobby. She is able to evade them by holding up a finger and mouthing “wait.” Seriously? She calls Jack Hyde and he says he has a car waiting for her. She goes out the back and it’s. . .

Da-da-dumbbbbbbbbbbbbbb!!!

Elizabeth.

Wait, who? I don’t know who this is. It’s Elizabeth from the office, Ana thinks. Still not helping, and I refuse to go back through any of the books to find a reference to her so let’s just gasp and say “Holy craptwats³!”

Elizabeth asks for Ana’s cell phone and throws it into the garbage. Who is this woman Ana thinks. Okay, so you don’t know either. That makes me feel better.

Oh wait, Ana does know her, but doesn’t understand why she’s helping the Scooby Doo villain.

Does Jack have some hold on you, Ana asks. Elizabeth slams the brakes and Ana goes crashing into the headrest. I’m starting to like Elizabeth.

They drive to an abandoned building. Jack is there wearing a suit, and “oozing arrogance and hatred.”

He beats Ana up. She hits her head on the concrete. Ana pulls her gun out and shoots Jack in the thigh and passes out to the sounds of car tires screeching and Christian’s voice. She eventually will be in and out of consciousness. *DingDingDing* This is the correct answer in the plot twist poll. Congratulations eight voters!

The hospital sequence is one million pages. Or it feels that way. She comes in and out of consciousness, catching snippets of conversation. Most of it is about how remarkable Ana is #bullshittheories.

We get to hear her stepdad Ray saying “If you don’t take her across your knee, I sure as hell will. What the hell was she thinking?”

Wha? Sure Ray is a piece of plastic wrap, but he was a little normal. Now he’s like Christian?

FUCK THIS BOOK.

Finally Ana comes to because of her need to pee. There’s a whole thing about Ana being grossed out by her catheter. For fuck’s sake. Then she doesn’t want to pee in front of Christian, and the nurse argues with Christian, and Christian eventually picks Ana up and plops her on the toilet. She can’t pee with him standing there. Well Christian isn’t leaving….and this goes on forever. And I just don’t relate. If I have to pee to the point of bladder burstment, I’m peeing. I don’t care who’s there. In fact I’m peeing in my pants right now.

There’s some blathering about “I love you” “No, I love you” and the ordering of chicken soup. It feels as boring as an actual hospital visit except you don’t get to distract yourself by occasionally glancing up at the Wheel of Fortune episode playing on the TV.

Christian enjoys watching Ana chow down so much, he begins masturbating. He relates how he knew something was afoot when Taylor called and said Jack made bail. Please continue to forget that Jack was remanded with no bail.

“I don’t know how Sawyer found me,” Ana dumbs. Um. . . because everybody knew you were at the bank?

Ana wants to know why Christian went to see Elena.

Christian crawls into her hospital bed (!) and promises to talk about it tomorrow. The nurse comes in and frowns to see Christian in the bed. Ana says “Don’t be a stinker, be a thinker.” (not really, but it’s believable, yes?) Christian mumbles in his sleep “Don’t touch me. No more. Only Ana.” There are so many levels of shits I don’t give at this point.

Ana wakes up, and Christian is gone. Her father-in-law peeks in, and they have this charming exchange, and by charming I mean I want to scrape my knuckles against a cheese grater a bizallion times.

“‘He’s a little mad at you, as he should be,’ Carrick smirks. Ah, this is where Christian gets it from.

‘Christian is always mad at me.’

‘Is he?’ Carrick smiles, pleased–as if this is a good thing. His smile is infectious.”

FUCK THIS BOOK.

Dear Every Character in this Book,

Please succumb to some flesh-eating virus.

Love,

Speaker7

Christian brings Ana breakfast and his peen hardens when she wolfs it down. Why so hungry little bird? Because I’m preggers you big dope. Ooh, the non-elephant in the room. They whisper and hoarse-talk–which is different then horse talk because there’s less neigh–about being frightened about becoming parents. You know who should really be frightened? Your child.

Christian wonders if butt plugs can substitute for pacifiers, and Ana says the child will love Christian unconditionally–unless Christian acts like he has this entire series.

Ana is given the all clear to leave the hospital, and Christian actually checks on the sexing status with the doc. Awesome.

At home, the enormity of the stupid plot twists finally hits Ana and she “keens quietly” again. That is amazing.

Christian picks her up like a child (actual description) and they take a shower together–let us all pray to whatever sky deity we pray to and hope that E.L. James no longer means the child analogy because holy fuck gross shitballs butt plug. Christian unveils why Elizabeth helped Jack. They had a sex tape together. He taped all his sexual acts. I don’t get this because usually that kind of thing lands you a reality television show in this country.

Christian also leans the connection between him and Jack. They were at the same foster home. Um…okay. Did he do this because the Greys adopted you and not him, Ana wonders. Sure, why not?

Ana thinks Christian should talk to his parents so he invites them over and it turns into a big party. Before I leave you, I want to illustrate how remarkable Ana is with this passage:

“(Mia) looks fine. Impeccably dressed in tight black jeans and a pale prink frilly blouse. I’m glad I’m wearing my comfortable wrap dress and flats. At least I look reasonably presentable”

Yeah, she’s remarkably awful.

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 New Plot Twists (Fifty Shades Freed: pgs. 351-400)

I have dreams, gentle reader.

My dream was to finish the literary anal fissure that is Fifty Shades Freed before my return to work on Tuesday.

But alas, this dream is dead as so many have gone before it. Why did this happen?

Because this book is too long and my brain is too worn-out like an overused vaginal ball. (For previous recraps, click here)

But let’s carry on because I will have to watch my child at some point. I know Hugo and Goofy are anxious to continue, right guys?

That’s the spirit.

For three sentences, things seem sunshiny in Ana Steele Grey’s narrow world of stupid. But then holy crap plot twist, fifty shaders, Ana receives a call from José’s  father that her stepdad Ray was in a car accident and lying in a coma of contrivance.

Ana does a few things that are pretty amazing in the sense that they are impossible. First she can’t reach Christian so she groans silently with frustration. How does one groan silently exactly? Then she “keens quietly” in the backseat. What will she do next? Scream peacefully? Hiccup voluntarily?

Christian finally calls and says he will have to meet her at the hospital because he’s hammering out some made-up business deal with the Taiwanese. Why do I know nothing about this? Ana thinks trivially. Because the only hammering you care about, Ana, is the peen kind.

She arrives at the hospital, and mutterly screams in her head about the last time she was in the ER for twisting her ankle.  She shudders at that memory. Yes, that seems really awful. I’m sure the guy in the ER who’d been stabbed multiple times really felt for you.

She asks for Ray Steele, and the nurse says let me check Miss Steele. “I nod, not bothering to correct her.” Wow, what an asshole to even have this thought. Ray’s lucky you’re here, Ana.

She sees José and Mr. Rodriguez, also named José (very inventive, E.L.), in the waiting room. José Senior said the car they were driving in was hit by a drunk driver. Christian arrives, and his face darkens when he sees José holding Ana’s hand. Oh for fuck’s sake.

He’s all up in her bizness about eating. The doctor arrives. “All the blood disappears from my head as I stumble to my feet” Ana dumb thinks. This actually explains quite a bit about Ana. And then she thinks this gem: “Under any other circumstances, I would have found the doctor attractive.” The doctor addresses her as Miss Steele. Mrs. Grey, Christian corrects because his penis is enraged.

The Josés leave, and Ana sits on Christian’s lap in the waiting room. Hmmm…that seems normal.

Ray’s out of surgery so Ana and Christian go see him. The nurse predictably gets wet at the sight of Christian Grey’s stupid face, and Ana has the generous thought of “Incongrously I’m thinking blonde is not her true color.” Can the drunk driver just crash through the hospital room now?

They check in at the Heathman, the setting of their first twisted encounter. Christian’s shaken because he normally sees Ana as brave and strong. Really? When? I want some muther fucking page numbers, y’all.  Because I’ve never seen it, and I’ve read over 1,300 pages of this twat rot. Oh dear christ…I’m going to go jump off a building.

The next day is Ana’s birthday. She is 3 in dog years. Christian gives her a charm bracelet, and I shit you not, one of the charms is an ice cream cone, a shout-out to the ice-cream-in-the-vag bacterial nightmare. She later thinks “Ben & Jerry’s & Ana” and I gouge my eyes out with blowtorch. He also buys her a sports car, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed that the brake line will be severed.

They reenact some of their finest Heathman moments. She uses his toothbrush. Gack.  She reminisces how she was just a 21-year-old butt plug then and now she is a 22-year-old prostate massager. She toots “I’m getting old.” Fuck you.

In the infamous elevator of tongue-jamming, the duo get all hot and bothered and jam tongues again.

After visiting with Ray, Ana meets Christian in the waiting room. He looks angry and is speaking a completely implausible one-sided phone conversation.

They go to lunch. Ana suggests the restaurant where they got back together in Fifty Shades Darker. “Do you think that supercilious fucker is still waiting tables?” Christian asks. God I hope he spit in your food.

They get ready for dinner and get on the elevator with two other women. The sight of Christian Grey causes the women to lose all their vaginal fluids. They also hate Ana. Yes ladies, he’s mine. Fuck fuck. That’s all I have just fuck fuck.

Christian has arranged a surprise birthday party.

At the hospital again, the staff encourages Ana to talk to Ray about her life to get him to snap out of his coma.

With Ray awake, Ana finally feels like really doing it, and yuck connection. She’s so turned on she even thinks Why are his feet so hot? Christian ties her to the sofa, and orders her to feel herself up. He bellows “Come on Ana!” and she does on cue.

And that’s where I leave you, fifty shader. Incongruously, I’m thinking this book is shitballs.

Fifty Shades Freed is Unreadable (pgs. 301-350)

For previous installments, click here. 

Dear E.L. James:

Ugh, this goddamned book.

I’m sorry I didn’t mean to start with a vulgarity, but I just read the worst 50 pages of sentences  you clearly shite directly out of your bottom onto a piece of paper.

This speaks volumes because I read Fifty Shades of Grey  in its entirety and the ice-cream-in-the-vag monstrosity in Fifty Shades Darker. I’ve been slogging my way through Fifty Shades Freed, the shittiest of the trilogy, since the beginning of August. Now my grievance is not that you are a terrible writer–you are–but that you have created the two worst fictional people on the planet.

Ana and Christian Grey are just…ugh. They are just ugh. The only way this book can be saved is if they drown in their own bodily fluids. Does that happen? Please say it does.

I understand this began as fan fiction. You were reading Twilight and masturbating with a  marbly, sparkling snow globe, and basically created sludge from santorum-like source material. Doesn’t excuse all the butt pluggery behavior of your two protagonists.

So I started pages 301-350, and Ana, Christian and their worshippers are at a club, and this is what I read:

And I just fill up with hate. I feel like there should be some type of reciprocity, like you should be forced to read the play I wrote in German in 12th grade or all my city council meeting newspaper articles.

Mia, Christian’s sister, wants to dance and “throw some shapes.” Yeah, that’s not a saying. Maybe in Britain, but not here, and if it is a saying in Britain, this is why America declared independence. Ana wobbles out onto the dance floor because she’s drunk the equivalent of four bottles of wine and weighs 80 pounds. Ana’s surprised she can suddenly dance since she spent the first 20 years of her life in a dog crate reading books.

Ana dumbthinks she can dance because Christian has stuck numerous objects in down there. Never let Ana be a dance teacher.

She feels hands on her and thinks it’s Christian so she grinds her butt into his groin. Nope, not Christian, just some random meathead. Ana screams and slaps him. The guy backs off and then Christian punches him after the fact. Unfortunately he is not arrested for assault.

Ana dumb wonders why she did it, and we get this chestnut:

Christian’s still mad, but he does some sensual dancing. They do everything, but peen-stick on the dance floor and Christian makes the loving declaration “No one touches what’s mine.”

Awesome.

E.L., you do realize that owning people is not considered cool? Like if any man ever said that to me, I would first laugh because obviously he had to be joking, and then I would leave because…gross.

Ana’s drunk. They leave. He takes off her make-up. They “joke” about watching her pee and I die. She’s mesmerized by his pajama bottoms.

He’s not going to bury himself in her tonight but he orders her to sleep. “‘When I come back to bed, I’ll expect you to be asleep.’ It’s a threat, a command. . . it’s Christian.” Jesus christ. Hate. Hate right now searing in my brain.

He buries himself in her later when they go through a rape fantasy sex game. Really, the worst 50 pages. Afterwards, Christian says something totally normal. “You confound me.” No one talks like this, E.L., no one. It doesn’t make him sound poetic or smart, it makes him sound like you’re a terrible writer.

At breakfast, Ana surreptitiously watches Christian walk outside with the help. He picks up a bamboo stick and swipes it. Oh…she farts out of her brain. Is this anything? Is he going to cane her or are we just wasting my goddamned time? I’m expecting the latter because you write as if you are recording the day to day events of dildos.

Ah wonderful! The motherfracking email exchange! And it’s like we’re actually at work with Ana. We get to experience her assistant coming in. Should we go over your schedule? Yes, cancel my 10:30…oh excuse me the phone is ringing. Hello? Oh hi Roach. Yes I’ll come up to your office in 20 minutes. She farts into a chair. You realize you can condense all this into: Ana goes to work. It doesn’t need to be seven pages.

Then more emails and at first I was really confused–oh excuse me, confounded— because they’re talking about events that I haven’t read about and then I realize this is how you’re showing the passage of time, and it’s just not necessary. No one gives a shit about any of this. He emails about some good time with vaginal balls at some Dipshit Association dinner, and other sexual innuendo that makes me believe you, E.L., do not understand innuendo. Pointless.

Then we get a visit from Leila the ex-sub who tried to kill Ana, and Ana’s like “What’s up dawg?” And Ana’s all confused that Christian has a list of people forbidden to see her. Really? I’m not. I’m just surprised Ana’s not stuck in some cage in his basement. The Leila visit is uninspired, and Ana has immature jealous thoughts through the whole thing and compares herself to Leila, and E.L., I’m sorry your world is so small. Lovely women exist in the world. I’m sorry you can’t see that.

Christian’s all angerball. He angrily murmurs and strokes his face with his slim-jim fingers, and pfftt. And you try to pass it off as him just wanting Ana safe. No, E.L., he’s an abusive prick.

Ugh.

Just ugh to it all.

With searing hatred,

Speaker7

P.S. Why is this book so mutherfracking long? I know it’s neat when you learn how to cut and paste, but that doesn’t mean you should cut and paste huge chunks of paragraphs and try to pass it off as something new. If I have to read one more time how Ana is spent after a bout of boring peen-sticking, I’m going to fly to England and hit you in the head with a sack of vaginal balls.

Fifty Shades Grossed Out (Fifty Shades Freed: pgs. 201-250)

Ah yes, pages 201 to 250 of Fifty Shades Freed, how I hate you.

Heads up, gentle reader. This was the expression I had almost the entire time I read this passage:

Fucking hell?

The only time I was not making this face was when I was rolling my eyes. Yeah, you heard right Christian Grey, I was rolling my eyes. I’d like to try to see you spank me.

Another thing, gentle reader, I’ve given poor Goofy and Hugo a break this recrap. They have yet to fully recover from actually reading part of the book. Or it could be they are hidden away in a storage container while strangers traipse through the house we’re trying to sell. For some reason, a half-man puppet sticking Play-doh vaginal balls into a blue bunny is not a strong selling point.

We left it at Ana promising Christian she would entertain her friend Kate at their apartment while he’s out of town. (For previous recraps, please visit here) And that’s what she does.

Sike!

Kate swings by, scoops Ana up in a “Kate hug”–whatever the fuck that is–and they go out to drink their weight in strawberry mojitos.

Ana, of course, hasn’t eaten all day because she subsists on the scent of Christian’s body wash.

Ana brings her security team, Sawyer of the first name Luke and “Miss Belinda Prescott.” I am unsure why we are being introduced to the character in this fashion, but it’s great and by great, I mean I would like to squeeze my neck in a vice.

Kate mentions the additional security is driving the rest of the Greys crazy. Ana’s all like “The what, who now?” Ana’s been kept in the dark. This is because of Jack Hyde, Kate explains, and then they have a completely incongruous conversation.

“‘What about Jack? I thought he was just after Christian,’ I gasp. Jeez. Why hasn’t he told me?

‘Since Monday,’ Kate says.”

Huh? Ana’s not the only who doesn’t know what’s going on.

What should we do for dinner?

Since Tuesday.

Ana surges with anger as she learns from Kate that this all hinges on information on Jack’s computer. She gets up to go angry-pee and Miss Belinda Prescott follows disapprovingly behind. Ana mutters “wordlessly” how she hasn’t been out on her own since the wedding, to Miss Belinda Prescott. So I guess she muttered it in the manner of a Charlie Brown teacher. “Wah-wah wah. Wah-Wah. Wah-wah-wah.”

They drop Kate off. Ana figures Christian knows about her broken promise, and will be mad, but relishes the thought of him punishing her:

Yep. Making this face. Right now.

Christian has called five times and sent her an email:

 

She texts him back: “Kate kept me on my leash and I did not dig in the neighbor’s trash can like last time. Please don’t be mad. LOL.”

When the elevator doors open, Ana knows something is wrong. The foyer table is overturned and the flower vase is broken. Now this is significant because in Fifty Shades Darker, Ana noticed the vase of flowers was missing, and now it’s here and broken so…yeah I’ve got nothing.

Do you think it means something that the vase was not there, but now it is?

Since Monday.

It’s a Code Blue people. Holy fuck! A Code Fuckin’ Blue. Security guy Ryan has knocked Jack Hyde unconscious. Ana also doesn’t know Ryan’s first name. Fuck! Code Blue, people. Ana doesn’t know something!

Ryan noticed Jack on the service elevator and gave him access to the apartment. Huh? That makes no sense. “That way I knew we’d have him.” Um…okay. What if he happened to have a bomb strapped to his body? Doesn’t matter.

Ryan needs something to tie Jack up, and Ana offers up some cable ties and then wants the floor to swallow her up. Me too, sister.

Jack brought a gun and roll of duct tape with him. Ana wants to call the police, but the security is waiting to hear from Christian via Taylor. Ana tries to call Christian and leaves a message, telling him first not be mad at her (!) and that everything’s okay. And then she demands they call the police.

Detective Clark barks questions at Ana. Ana feels sad. She wants “to crawl into (Christian’s) lap.”

Ooh yes. The face is back.

She sleeps in his T-shirt and on his side of the bed because it smells like an abusive sack of douche.

She wakes and sees Christian sitting in a chair by the bed. He’s weirdly rubbing one of his Twizzler-fingers back and forth over his lower lip. He’s pissed with a capital BOO.

“I am way, way beyond mad.”  Aw! So cute.

They go back and forth. “Don’t be mad” I’m mad” etc. She crawls into his lap, and my face takes on a familiar expression.  He smells of whiskey, body wash and a stuck half turd.

“‘I want to punish you,’ he whispers. ‘Really beat the shit out of you.'”

Awwww….wait, what? Seriously, WHAT?!?

Yo! Now would be the time to get off that mutherfucker’s lap and go pack!

“‘I know,’ I whisper as my scalp prickles.”

Ana goes back to sleep, comforted by the notion the he might hammer her skull in while she rests. She wakes up and Christian is there in a tank top damp with sweat from likely murdering a random woman and disposing her body somewhere. Oh, and he’s still mad. He is a fun dude.

He showers and Ana jumps in. She tries to rev his engine, but he warns “Don’t.” Ana thinks he doesn’t want me anymore. And Jesus Christ, this goddamned book™.

She begs him not to overreact. Overreact, he snarls, someone tries to kidnap my wife, and it wasn’t me?!?. . . “And all because you can’t follow a simple, fucking request.” I don’t know how Jack’s break-in is connected to Ana’s night out with Kate, but maybe that’s because I’m not a fucktwit.

Later that morning, she tries to go into his office, but he has set up an invisible fence, and she gets shocked, turning away dejectedly.

She leaves for work, whispering “Don’t hate me.” Too late. Oh, you were talking to Christian. He doesn’t hate her, and then forcibly grabs her face and jams his tongue down her throat. After extracting a tonsil stone, he pushes her away and calls for security.

At work, Ana begins to wonder if Christian flew home early because of the break-in or because she went out with Kate. If it’s the latter, he’s a fargin psycho, she paraphrases. “Okay, I’m glad he’s back so maybe that’s irrelevant.”

Goddamnit! For two seconds, you almost sounded like a normal human being. Then you go and ruin it because “Hallelujah my man has returned!”

She emails Christian to find out what time he decided to fly back, and he’s all cagey, and by cagey, I mean a stinky fartface. She finally emails him a long diatribe saying she’s not a child–apart from the crawling in his lap, asking for his permission and behaving like a child in all manner and ways–and she’s pissed too.

When she arrives home, she sees Christian wearing his red-room-of-pain jeans, and Ana’s mouth dries out like my will to live. He’s still mad. So-weet! He’s mad she “defied him.” Whole bullshit thing about how he worried he would hurt her and she knew he never would, and where is it? Oh yes:

This is the man women are pining for? This guy?!?

Ana gets him to divulge a bit about the information contained on Jack’s hard drive. Files about his family and borrrinnnngg. Enough talk, Christian pricks, have you eaten? Of course not, but she did huff his underwear this morning so that carried her through the day. He decides to blindfold her and feed her. He spits wine into her mouth (yum?) followed by bits of lamb and humus and it’s sooooo…fucking unnecessary.

He refers to himself as “Fifty Shades, baby” when she describes him for the umpteenth time as mercurial. And yes, the face is happening even as I type this.

They go into the playroom–and Jesus Christ this recrap is long–and he nails her to the cross. Oops, I mean he handcuffs her to the cross in preparation for nailing. She’s blindfolded again and naked. He tweaks her parts until she’s about burst and stops. She mewls.

I’m two seconds away from dry heaving.

He keeps doing that, bringing her to the edge of climaxing and then stopping. After the tenth time (and believe me, we experience all 10 times), it dawns on Ana he’s doing this to punish her so she says the safe word “twat taco” and starts sobbing.

He’s like “My bad.” He says orgasm denial is a standard tool…and doesn’t continue. A standard tool committed by major tools? She said he has to stop trying to treat her like his submissive. He’s like a-derp.

That’s it for now. I have permanent wrinkles from my continual scowl.

Fifty Shades Freed: The Twatsausage edition (pgs. 151-200)

Ah twatsausage.

Does that sum up pages 151 to 200 of Fifty Shades Freed? Because it should. It’s a sheep-intestine casing stuffed entirely with pig anuses, chicken bladders and rat feces, and although it is served with fried peppers and onions, it still tastes like the worst book ever written.

(For previous segments of twatsausage, click here)

Let’s carry on.

Ana’s still pissy about the name change conversation. She pouts in the car on the way home. She notes Christian has “floppy sex hair.” Oh my god, I can’t even… She mutters he needs a haircut and stomps onto the elevator.

Why you mad baby? Christian mutter croons. Because I gave in to your demands like I do every time only this time I’m going to stay upset until you stick your fingers inside me and order me to come on command, Ana says. She downs a glass of wine.

“‘Don’t be mad. You’re so precious to me. Like a priceless asset, like a child,’ he whispers, a somber reverent expression on his face.”

Instead of saying WTF did you just call me? I’m either a thing or a baby? You are a sick motherfucker, Ana gets distracted by the words “precious” and “like a child” and thinks Christian is up for making a baby. I just split my head open with an ax.

They need to stop talking because Gia, the whore architect, is stopping by with her whorish designs for their new house. Christian says if she’s still mad, she can take it out on him in bed. What? Bed? How? Ana dumb-thinks. Here is my suggestion: smother him to death with a pillow made out of butt plugs.

She prepares for Gia’s visit. Her inner goddess gets out her harlot-red nail polish. I don’t believe Gia can see that, but okay. You go grrll and other meaningless platitudes. Ana plops her boobs out of her shirt, puts on lots of mascara and brushes her hair vigorously so it’s a “chestnut haze” around her head. It doesn’t say, but I’m guessing Ana also dropped some acid.

She meets Christian in the “great room” (great description E.L. James. Is the “little room” next door?). Gia shows up. She yowls and rubs her lady bits against the couch and pees outside the litter box. Ana sprays her with a squirt bottle, and loops her arm around Christian’s waist, giving his ass a squeeze.

There is some stupidness about Ana feeling she and Christian are on a team versus Gia and her exposed perineum. Ana’s inner goddess even gets in on the action, donning a gladiatrix outfit. If only Gia were an actual lion and ate them. While Ana’s getting Gia a glass of dry white wine–Shit! Sauvignon blanc–that’s dry white, isn’t it? Ana dumbs–Gia touches Christian’s arm. GASP! Christian flinches because childhood trauma, and Ana pretends she doesn’t like Gia because she makes Christian uncomfortable rather than because Ana hates the entirety of womenkind.

Christian’s henchman Taylor needs Christian for some urgent made-up business, leaving Ana alone to have some words with Gia over her “eye-fucking” Christian. She is so empowered. Keep your hands off my man, ho, Ana waves her finger in Gia’s face. She throws a chair and is restrained by Steve, the big burly security guard on The Jerry Springer Show. Gia begins stuttering and floundering and yeesh. Ana relaxes for the first time, and My inner goddess is celebrating her inner bitch.

Insert sound of record scratch.

I’m sorry. . . her what, now? Ana’s inner goddess has an inner thingy too? It’s like Ana’s a Russian nesting doll.

This…I… uh..I…yeah, okay I’m done.

…

Oh Jesus, you guys are broken. I’m so so sorry. We just have a few pages left. I’ll take it from here.

Christian leaves for New York. Ana plans to go out with Kate although she feels a piece of her is missing. Yes that would his dong constantly in your vag. He calls to say he got in okay, and wonders what she will be doing with Kate. He wants her to stay at the apartment chained to the radiator. Please let (!) me go out! Ana dumb-thinks. He says “No. Finish your homework and no watching TV after 7 p.m.” She acquiesces because she sucks.

Stay tuned for the next helping of twatsausage.

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.