Listen, I get it. No one is having enough sex. Especially no one I know. I’m sure George Clooney gets laid constantly. It must get boring for him. But I’m no George Clooney. I suspect Betty White gets more action than I do. I suspect Betty White gets more tail than George Clooney does.
So, given the state of our sexless existence, I felt compelled to dip my toe into the mommy porn cesspit and read 50 Shades of Grey. What a fucking weird book this is. Oh, you could say it’s weird because of the numerous references to anal plugs and spanking. But I mean weird because its level of suckiness can’t possibly match up to its popularity….or the obscene amount of coin the author is raking in.
I have a laundry list of rants to go with this book that could fill dozens of blogs, so I will focus on my top two issues today.
Issue Number 1: The enervating, encumbered, oppressive and exaggerated used of the thesaurus by the writer.
Who the hell talks like this? Especially whilst having a butt plug thrust into a poop hole? “Why, Mr. Grey, what a hedonistic endeavor you are embarking on.” SHUT UP!
The use of inappropriate SAT-level vocabulary is more disturbing than the handcuffs and nipple clamps in this piece of shit.
I dare you to use “thesaurus” words in a normal sentence in daily life without looking like a complete asshole.
For your consideration:
“Dude, that wave was epic. I will never expunge it from my memory!” See, total asshole. He will not be invited to the clambake later.
“I can’t wait to dig into this steak with my cutlery.” It’s a knife, douchebag!
“I smoked so much weed this weekend, I was afraid I would somnambulate.” Shut up or I will stab you in the head.
“That inconsiderate misanthrope absconded with my parking space.” I hate you and I don’t know what you just said, you fucking tool.
I think “Thesaurus” is now my safe word.
Issue Number 2: Don’t read this book in front of people!! You are freaking them out.
For the love of God, if you have the physical book, stick a brown paper bag around it or something. We all think you are either a horny old lady or have terrible sense in your choice of reading material. Both can’t be good for you. Please, you live in a shame-based society. Act accordingly.
And this rule doesn’t only apply to public places like buses and park benches. Do you think your 20-year-old son wants to know his mother (or aunt or gay uncle) is a horny freak show? That could do some serious damage and take years for the visuals to be “expunged” from his memory.
I believe we only fly our freak flag at full mast within the confines of our S&M rooms…or in blogs where consenting adults gather willingly.
What I’m most intrigued about is the writer. Who the hell is this woman and what kind of private life does she have? No offense, E.L. James (not her real name….I wouldn’t use my real name either) but you just don’t look the type. You look like every woman in sweats in line at Trader Joe’s or picking their kindergartener up.
So, you have now made me look twice at everyone I know and have compromised my ability to compartmentalize them into tidy boxes. For all I know, that woman in front of me at the coffee shop who looks like she has not showered in days and has stains on her shirt has a vibrator up her lady garden RIGHT NOW!
She does seem suspiciously chipper about her venti frappuccino….