As you have probably heard, we are in the end times.
In just a couple of days the world will be once again bothered with another Fifty Shades book, as EL James goes even more Single White Female on Stephenie Meyer and releases her own terrible version of Meyer’s thankfully aborted Midnight Sun. Yes, it’s 2015 and the thing is still not going away. At this point the Fifty Shades franchise is rather like being in a relationship with its hero; you can kick and fight and scream NO! at the top of your lungs, but it’s still going to keep happening.
However, I will not be reading this book.
I admit, I’m curious, but I’ve been curious about a lot of things in my life, including buttchugging, heroin and the Young Conservatives. Curiosity is a good thing, but in some cases you have to let your sanity speak louder and just walk on by. Eavesdropping on the gross mental perambulations of a dollar store Patrick Bateman is definitely one of those times.
I’ll be keeping an eye on reviews; it’s going to be interesting to see how the critics respond to a romantic hero who fantasises about sexually assaulting the heroine within the first five pages and openly admits that he thinks women are toys he can buy, but reading the thing? Nope. This has gone on too long as it is. I have other things planned for this year and they don’t include wading through this bloated yawn of a book again, especially not through the eyes of a character who calls grown women baby and says things like ‘she’s an alluring little piece’. Not if I ever want to be able to open my legs again without the aid of a car jack.
So, to all of those brave bloggers who are attempting to chronicle this sad, desperate cash in, I wish you the very best of luck, a constant supply of booze and plenty of lovely soft pillows to scream into. You’re going to need them.
Also, I’d be very interested to know what the billionaire dick God actually does for a living. Three books and I still have absolutely no fucking idea. (My current theory is leprechauns.)
For everyone who’s here for the Fifty Shades stuff, I’ve just added a new page to the site so that you don’t have to suffer the extreme annoyance of searching WordPress tags. Fifty Shades Freed and Darker indexes will be added later, but there should be enough horrible to keep you all amused for the time being. Click the link below to go to the index page or click Fifty Shades Recaps on the page bar above.
For all your ‘When does he pull her tampon out?’ and ‘Is there anal in Fifty Shades of Grey’ search needs. (And no. There is no anal in Fifty Shades of Grey.)
Posted in big steaming heaps of it, Fifty Shades of Abuse, Fifty Shades of Neigh, Fifty Shades of Shit, Unfathomably bad movies
Tagged books that ate my brain, bullshit, Christian Thundercat Grey, drunks, fifty shades annotated, fifty shades of abuse, hot mess, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, the worst book in the world, there is no anal sex in fifty shades of grey, Throwing up
Chapter twenty-four starts with another one of Ana’s ever-so-meaningful ‘symbolic’ dreams.
Christian stands in a steel-barred cage. Wearing his soft, ripped jeans, his chest and feet are mouthwateringly naked…
This is my second favourite participle mess of the entire book. While it doesn’t quite come close to the one where he was wearing a tie with eyeballs and a shrewd expression, it’s still pretty special in context. Just a heads up – Thomas Hardy fans might want to grab something to bite down on before reading any further. Continue reading
Chapter twenty-three opens with Ana sitting in a bar in Georgia and realising that her demented boyfriend has stalked her all the way from Seattle. Continue reading
Posted in big steaming heaps of it, books, Fifty Shades of Shit, wtf
Tagged crap, drunks, fifty shades annotated, fifty shades of grey, jiggly bits, sordid gropings, there is no anal sex in fifty shades of grey, truly awful books
This post comes from a place of deep, heartfelt joy. Yes, that’s right – yesterday I finished reading Fifty Shades of Grey and it can’t hurt me anymore! It’s over! I am FREE!
You, however, have got another five terrible chapters to read. Sorry about that. Continue reading
You get a two-fer of crap today, since chapter eighteen is mostly one horrible, drawn out sex scene and I have absolutely no intention of recapping it. Continue reading