The worst book that ever was and ever will be: A review of Fifty Shades of Grey

I can no longer live in a reality where Fifty Shades of Grey is considered, by some, the greatest romance novel they have ever read.  I can't even live in a reality where a few people say it was an okay book.

Goodbye cruel world. 

I never expected it to be this terrible.  I never even thought it possible for a book this terrible to get published.  But here it is, so we may as well warm up with a few quotes:

"I'll agree to the fisting, but I'd really like to claim your ass, Anastasia."

"Anticipation runs bubbling like soda through my veins."

"And he hits me again and again.  From somewhere deep inside, I want to beg him to stop. but I don't.  I don't want to give him the satisfaction. He continues the unrelenting rhythm. I cry out six more times. Eighteen slaps in total. My body is singing, singing from his merciless assault." 

(Then, after a round of violent sex, comes this quote):

"Well done, baby," he whispers, quiet joy in his voice. His words curl  around me like a soft fluffy towel from the Heathman Hotel, and I'm so pleased that he's happy.

(Ugh, please).

"My scalp prickles at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he might like me.  After all, he did say he was glad Kate didn’t do the interview. I hug myself with quiet glee, rocking from side to side, entertaining the possibility that he might like me for one brief moment."

(How could he possibly like you, Ana?  You have BROWN hair).

"Grey smiles a dazzling, unguarded, natural, all-teeth-showing, glorious smile."             

 "Two orgasms...coming apart at the seams, like the spin cycle on a washing machine, wow."

 (Ms. James has taken a line used by sexually frustrated neighbors on 80's sitcoms, referring to how they pleasure themselves by sitting on the washing machine during spin cycle, and then used it totally wrong). 

"He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor popsicle."

 (Get it?)

Followed by:

 "My mouth pops open as I gasp and swallow at the same time."

 (Tricky).

           

I think you get the point.  Now let me delve a little further into why the writing made  me want to vomit all over the inside of Charlie Tango (Christian Grey's lamely named helicopter):

Extreme overuse of certain phrases:  Oh my, I blush, I flush, holy hell, holy crap, holy cow, holy f*ck, crap, double crap, crapola, my breath hitches, his breath hitches, his eyes were hooded, and endless references to "down there."  Down where? Oh, down there.  Cue the sound of a creaky old door opening and bats flying out.  But seriously, one of these phrases shows up on every single page.

EL James has no idea that there's a difference between a subconscious and a conscience.  Ana is constantly fighting with her "subconscious," who is some sort of mix between a prudish librarian and a Ricki Lake audience member ("You a ho!").   She's that little voice that is always telling Ana what she's doing is wrong.  You know, YOUR CONSCIENCE.  You subconscious is just what it sounds like - below consciousness.  You don't know it's there, and you definitely don't converse with it - unless maybe your name is Sybil.

EL James likes to use words that nobody has ever heard of.  In the middle of Ana using words like "crapola," we'll suddenly see the word "avuncular" or "mercurial."  Huh? Avuncular?  Look lady, nobody knows what that word means, especially not your half-wit of a heroine.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse Ana starts referring to Christian as "my Fifty Shades."  OMFG THAT'S THE NAME OF THE BOOK!! LOLOLOLOLOL!  Which is only one of many overused cutesy nicknames and phrases such as "the mean machine" instead of "laptop," and the literary abomination that is "Laters baby."

Now let's take a look at why Anastasia Steele sucks:

1.  She never stops having orgasms.  She loses her virginity to Christian in a horribly unromantic and violent way, but there she is having not just orgasms, but earth-shattering, mind blowing multiple orgasms where she is just out of her mind, shattered to smithereens, swirling and writhing, head spinning around on her shoulders with steam coming out of her ears, deaf, dumb, and blinded with sheer ecstasy.  Then her inner goddess gives her a high five and wraps a pair of pantyhose around her neck.   AND THAT WAS AFTER HER FIRST TIME.  The next day she wakes up a little sore, but gladly lets Christian pound her again.

2.  She becomes mentally retarded the second Mister sculptured lips hangy-pants so much as hands her the remote control.  At one point she actually asks, in all seriousness, if it's "legal to look that good?"  She loses all ability to speak, think, walk, and use her medulla oblongata (don't look at me, Ana mentions it several times).

I think that most of this relates to the fact that she has zero self-esteem.  She thinks she's unattractive, klutzy, and worst of all - she's a brunette!!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOO!! Everyone knows brunettes are hideous! No man will ever love you Ana!  Face the facts!  Just oil up that butt plug and get on with it already.  CHRISTIAN GREY IS YOUR ONLY OPTION YOU HIDEOUS BROWN-HAIRED MONSTER!

3.  She doesn't care that Christian is a controlling, abusive, mind-f*ck, because he's just so darn hot.  Her self esteem is so low that she literally says she would do anything to be with him.  "Anything" includes allowing herself to be whipped, spanked, and stalked across the country, even though he scares the hell out of her.  She says that she's in love with this man who she can't even make a joke around without being terrified that he's going to get angry and spank her. 

All of these things, and more, made Ana a weak, pathetic, joke of a character.

Why Christian Grey sucks:

I don't care how huge his d*ck is, or how much money he has, the man has absolutely nothing to offer. Between his lack of personality, his lack of a sense of humor, and his general desire to beat women into submission as some sick form of "caring" for them, he is nothing but a disgusting self-centered pig. Oh he was abused as a child? He didn't get enough love? Fine, that's a perfectly reasonable explanation  for him turning out the way he did, but it's no excuse for what he's doing to Ana.  If two adults are both into that lifestyle and the woman is begging you to beat her with a riding crop, then okay fine.  Maybe that's how real BDSM relationships work, I don't know. What I do know is that's not the case with this book. Christian Grey is a manipulator, who takes a girl with no experience, no self-esteem, and no mind of her own, and convinces her to do things she's not comfortable with in order to "please him."  He wants to hurt her. He's stated it several times.  And Ana, the moron, does all this shit on the off chance that in return he'll decide to be a normal boyfriend who takes her out to dinners and movies.

And to top it all off, Ana is just giddy with joy over the idea that someone like him could actually like her. The idea that a man who is controlling, threatening, physically violent, and doesn't allow you the time or space to have your own life and thoughts, is actually romantic, is a seriously disturbing trend.  

And so I conclude, so I may get on with my life...

As a self-published author myself, I am not sure I would want to make my millions off of a book like this.  I'm not the type to sucker people out of their money and then laugh all the way to the bank.  Oh I would still go to the bank, for sure.  Most of us dream of being rich.  But I would go to the bank with my head down. I would go to the bank with a promise in my mind to one day make up for perpetuating this twisted and dangerous version of love. I'd send a damn lot of my money to charity.

That would almost be fifty shades of decent. But I won't hold my breath. 

Nation’s Moms Glad You Have Nice Office Job

According to a study released by the United States Department of Labor, and longtime confidante and neighbor, Barbara Heffernan, the nation’s moms are just so glad that you found yourself a nice office job.

Over 85 million moms were very concerned that you might end up like your cousin, Ben Foster, who is too busy working as a famous Hollywood actor to call home very often. It’s not as if they’re asking to hear his life story. But would it be a crime to call and say hello and maybe ask about his father?

While the souls of the nation’s children are being slowly crushed by tedium and poorly ventilated office space, the nation’s moms have had a huge weight lifted from their shoulders.

“This is Marvin,” gushed local mom of thirty-six years, Donna Porcello, energetically passing a photo around 9:00 a.m. Zumba class. “He’s an accountant. It’s wonderful, just wonderful. He writes me on the email at least twice a day.”

 

The nation’s moms don’t want to tell you this, but they breathed a huge collective sigh of relief when you decided that you would just stay here, rather than leave and have to hear them complain about it for the rest of your life.

“Sure, we had a bit of a scare during David’s last year of college,” nodded Joan Nash, 65, from her place in line at J.C. Penney. “He mentioned something about using his Archaeology degree to go on this ridiculous “dig” of ancient Rome. Thank God my friend Mary was able to pull some strings and get him that position at the state offices.”

When asked if sacrificing the opportunity of a lifetime for a 10 x 12 foot office and thirty minutes for lunch, local son, David Nash, refused to comment.

“Oh please,” added Joan. “He probably would have strained himself with one of those shovels.”

While the nation’s children may argue that “that’s not the point,” the nation’s moms remain adamant that choosing a nice office job, with excellent benefits and a thirty-two minute commute, really makes the most sense at this time in your life.  Especially if you're planning to start a family soon.

“We just want you to be happy, safe, and nowhere near icy roads, criminals, or airplanes,” said spokeswoman for all mothers, Nancy Hunt. “I mean, unless you decided to become a doctor like we originally asked you to, an office job is everything a mother could have hoped for.”

Gotta love a brand name that basically says "Yeah, you know, they sell our stuff at Marshall's. There might be a hole in this. Whatever."

Employees Walled In

Don't childproof your house...cage your children!

There are a lot of people in the world who should probably lose their jobs. One of them is the guy at Wendy's who would read my order back wrong every single time because he thought it was funny. Another is whichever marketing genius came up with this ad for the North States Superyard (a product intended for “young toddlers or small pets”):

One might surmise that this child (who we can all agree is neither a young toddler nor small pet), was put in there to keep him safe from the roaring fireplace. Well, dear marketing executives, even my two year old gets the concept of "fire hot" and manages to stay away on his own. It is more likely that he was confined to this 15 square foot hexagonal hell because his mother is a raging psychopath. The main piece of evidence from which I drew that conclusion is that she's wearing a button up shirt just to hang around the house. The second piece of evidence is that the house is immaculate and the only evidence that a child lives there is a wagon and a book entitled "Christmas” (and oh what a sad, sad, Christmas it’s going to be).

Here's an idea - lose the antique urn and get the kid some Matchbox cars. That wagon isn’t cutting it. Sure he might like to wheel it around to kill time until he turns eighteen, or better yet, use it as a way to climb out, set fire to that bouquet of dried peonies, torch the place, and escape into the night. But until he plans all that out, it’s really going to suck taking one step and banging into a wall over and over again.

So listen up North States: if you find yourself in need of a consultant who knows the appropriate age range for a kiddie corral, give me a call.

Or, if you're just looking for a new secretary, I type 80 wpm.

Worst Personalized Gift Suggestion Ever?

You Guys Are Gonna Miss Me Until The Temp Shows Up

Man, oh man. You guys don’t know how good you have it right now. Maybe you haven’t thought about this, but someday, maybe soon, I won’t be working here anymore. Someday I’m going to move on to bigger and better things, and suddenly everything is going to blow up in your face. That’s right. The phone that I’m always answering? Someday it’s going to be ringing off the hook and you’ll say to yourself “Crap! Who’s going to answer that before the temp gets here in twenty minutes?” And the answer to that question will be, “One of the other secretaries that still works here.”

It is at that moment that you’ll realize how truly screwed you are until the temp is able to find a parking space downstairs. 

 
I’ve worked for this company for almost ten years. I’ve built up trust and confidence with our clients, and I’ve learned all of the ins and outs of this company. I know where you get your haircut and how you like your turkey sandwiches. Experience like mine should not be taken for granted. So until a girl who looks exactly like me from the back figures out where the elevator is, the shit is going to hit the fan. I’m just letting you know. 

 
I probably shouldn’t even mention all the filing that’s going to pile up without me around. I mean, who do you think is going to painstakingly file away each document in the next few minutes before the temp figures out if she should turn left or right at the end of the corridor? I think you know the answer.

I almost feel sorry for you people. Helpless. Incompetent. Unable to manage the simplest administrative tasks until Randstad types a few keywords into their database and finds a recent college grad to send over for ten bucks an hour. But hey, that’s life. Most of us never realize what we have until the temp gets stuck in traffic on I-495. 

 
So let’s use this as a learning opportunity. Toss a “thank you” my way once in a while. Don’t skip Administrative Professionals Day. And in return, maybe I’ll stick around for another ten years.

Because I think I’d really miss you guys until a way better job showed up.