A Question Deserves An Answer

Anonymous said... 

Where for art thou Amberance? 

10:49 PM 

Very good question, anonymous. It's been a rough couple of months. Moving to a new country, even one that you love, is emotionally more difficult than it is possible to prepare for. Christmas, which is normally my FAVORITE THING IN THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD, was mostly a nightmare, and my birthday, which is Sunday and which I would normally have been reminding you all about on a daily basis for the last six weeks is only being observed at all this year to appease StereoNinja, who has made it very clear that my strategy of hiding in the bedroom ignoring him (and everyone else) while failing to engage in any of my beloved hobbies (blogging, my birthday, gratuitous nudity) is no longer acceptable. Having now spoken to a number of people who have already done this, I've had to severely lower my expectations for the foreseeable future, as the collective wisdom of those who have gone before me is that I will continue to burst into tears at completely random intervals due to vicious and overwhelming homesickness for at least 18 months. I don't even want to talk about how miserable I was on New Years, though at least I managed to leave Devon the day before it disappeared into the sea.

I have two papers due in a week, so as I said in November, let me get those written and turned in, and then check back here as I plan to reward myself by writing the next Fifty Shades review and/or going to Prague (oh yeah, I've decided I want to spend a weekend in Prague though I have absolutely no idea what is actually in Prague or why I want to go there - my main motivation seems to be the ability to say "When I was in Prague over the weekend..." - so advice on what I should actually DO in Prague would be lovely). I've been ready to write it for a while actually, but have been putting it off because I felt that I was upset about the wrong things and was trying to adjust my rage to match my logic. It hasn't worked, so I'm just going to write it the way I'm feeling it and then pack my bags for my journey to Hades since I am a terrible person.

Where I am at this very minute is sitting in my living room looking out at the sea. While all you guys in the U.S. have been at the travelling Antarctica Experience exhibition this week (the first time I saw someone write "Chiberia" made me laugh much harder than was probably warranted), the U.K. has been dealing with its own disastrous weather since roughly Christmas, mostly in the form of massive rainstorms combined with extremely high tides and a recent habit of building homes on floodplains. In typical British fashion, this was described on the news in the most hilariously understated way possible as "unusual weather". Living on an island in the Thames as I do, it is impossible not to notice. The field directly across the river from us which is typically filled with sheep first became a lake (which I named Lake Titicacao because tits! and chocolate! and I'm a massive child!) and then a few days ago even that was swallowed up and now the whole thing is just part of the river. Our marina is entirely flooded, the water covering not only the gangway that goes around the outside of the marina but also the first two steps leading up to our garden It is an inch from covering the third, which would leave only two more stairs before we go from living on riverfront property to living in the actual river. There are two roads leading into the island, but only one road that leads away from it, and that road is also flooded, meaning I actually drove my car through the Thames twice this morning. I was lucky I made it through - on my way back, there were two cars stranded on the road who had tried to drive through the river but were too low profile to get through and were now stranded in non-working cars waiting for rescue. If the river doesn't crest today I may be stranded here all weekend. Every once in a while, a helicopter flies over and I imagine them looking down at us and saying "Yep, still flooded." I think I should write a really rude message for them or draw some tits so their day will be more interesting.

Anyway, give me a week to finish my papers and I will write you guys a scathing review about how E.L. James has apparently never been to a bank and being threatened with rape is super romantic. 

P.S. I have enjoyed answering this question. Feel free to send me more questions you would like answers to and I'll answer them in a future blog post. It will be like a conversation!

I'm Already Pretty Good At This, Actually

I am really busy writing a paper for class this week. (I am also really busy freaking out about it because I don't remember how to write a fucking paper without swearing or sarcasm. See?) So my NaBloPoMo posts this week are going to be pretty shitty, at least until Friday. In the meantime, please enjoy the new Reverend Horton Heat Video, which stars my dance teacher Michelle L'Amour and some of the Chicago Starlets, two of whom are friends from my student show class who I am very proud of:

Reverend Horton Heat - Let Me Teach You How to Eat

Back At My Home On Whore Island

As I've mentioned before, I live on an island in the Thames on the outskirts of a very posh town I clearly don't belong in. The island is populated mostly by retirees and posh lunatics, or posh retirees who are lunatics. And it's not just an island, it's a community - there are organized functions and progressive dinners and notes slipped through your door inviting you to "supper". I was sure I was going to get thrown out.

Until Sunday, which was the day of the island's official bonfire party. £5 buys you a chance to stand next to a large fire, a sausage roll, and all the mulled wine you can drink. The fire wasn't lit yet when we got there, so we went to get some mulled wine and said hello to our next door neighbor - a 93 year old man who just spent most of the summer driving around France on his own, going from pub to pub, meeting new people and generally being more adventurous than I was at 20. He introduced us to another neighbor, an older lady who he claimed owns 10 Alfa Romeos but she corrected him - she has pared that down to "only" two. We chatted with them for a while until we noticed someone had lit the bonfire, so we walked over to check that out and to laugh at the men in charge of it, who were busily throwing all the things in the piles of wood meant to feed the bonfire through the night into it at once.

In the 15 minutes it took them to use up all the fuel for the fire, it had started to rain pretty hard, and people started wandering back to the garage where the wine and the sausage rolls were being distributed. It was there that I was introduced to the pilot. The pilot is a woman who does not live on the island, but just across the bridge from it so is kind of an honorary islander. As per my naming her the pilot, she flies passenger jets for a living. That's what she does now anyway; she used to be a veterinarian. Which is a hell of a career change, I thought, to which she replied, "Well, once you've wanked off a dog for 30 minutes to find out why none of his mates are being impregnated, you realize it might be time for a new career." I decided to just stand next to her all night. This turned out to be a good decision: I got to watch her give a sex education lecture to a grown man using his sausage roll ("You have a sausage, and I have a...roll.") (also, I got to add, in answer to his query of what the tomato sauce* represented, "Oh, that's just a timing issue.") and hear how much she loves Chicago (she used to fly there when she did transatlantic flights).

And then, somehow, and I swear to Xenu you guys, I was NOT the one who started it, there came a point in the conversation where she told us of her wish to learn to twirl nipple tassels in different directions. Obviously it was my obligation to tell her both that I knew exactly how to do that and that it was actually much easier than getting them to twirl in the same direction. And obviously they wanted to know why and I explained about the burlesque and the student show and that I even knew how to make them myself. The pilot was VERY excited, and before I knew it two things had happened: she'd told virtually everyone on the island that I was an expert at stripping, and she'd gotten half a dozen retired and semi-retired women to agree to a girly night at her house wherein, it seems, I will be teaching them to make and twirl nipple tassels. There was also some talk of me teaching them a general burlesque workshop and/or a basic burlesque class at the fitness center just next to the island.

So..... that happened.

I think I might fit in here better than I thought.

*ketchup.

Nice Tits, England.

Per the cake master halfway through this three way conversation with H-Town, "We are not mature enough for birds to be called tits."



amberance: there's a bird here just called a tit*

H-Town: wow, so you could say "look at the tits on that tree!"

and no one would slap you
and if tits landed on a woman, "Look at the tits on that gal?"
brilliant

The cake master: "There are so many tits on that tree! I've never seen so many tits in one place!"

H-Town: I wish I had more tits around my house!
I’m moving

The cake master: "Aren't the tits beautiful?"
Are the tits noisy?

H-Town: we wouldn't have such a mosquito problem if there are more tits
I hear tits make a slapping noise

The cake master: Are they soft and fluffy?

amberance: "HOLY SHIT THAT OWL JUST ATE THOSE TITS!"

H-Town: oh, now those tits just flew right into the window!

The cake master: Do they swing around in circles?

H-Town: do they hang low and/or wobble to and fro?

amberance: I want them to have really pointy beaks
like "man those are some sharp tits"

The cake master: Yeah, are there low-hanging tits?
They're only on the saggy branches?

H-Town: and if they're male, look at those man tits!

amberance: also they should always fly in pairs

H-Town: their nests should be called bras

The cake master: If there a bunch of nests built on top of each other, are they called support bras?

H-Town: training bras
and if the nests are all mashed together into one sort of uni-nest, it's a sports bra
i hope when they walk, they bounce

The cake master: There's birds that look like tits

But they’re fake tits
You can tell by feeling them.

H-Town: you can tell because they don't move as much

The cake master: I hear the male tit is smaller though.
And not as bouncy

H-Town: People must wonder why male tits have beaks

The cake master: I sure do

H-Town: tits usually show up about spring break each year

The cake master: well, in the winter they're all covered up

H-Town: and sometimes it's so cold their beaks could cut glass

The cake master: I hear you can tell if it's cold just by looking at a naked tit
As they get older, the more their beaks point at the ground

H-Town: the older tits just walk around naked at the local YMCA in the locker rooms

*In America we don't have tits, but instead the related titmouse and chickadee.

Meep Meep

I've just realized I never blogged about my student show over the summer, which is incredibly convenient as I had no idea what I was going to write about today (I am at StereoNinja's office right now as both of us needed to get some work done. It is not very exciting, despite there being a flamingo standing in the corner and goofy little puppets everywhere. Though the arm fell off one of them and we did turn it into a penis.)

I ended up going with a temporary stage name that I came up with myself, Phoebe Moon, after Saturn's irregular and probably captured satellite, because I am a massive, massive geek.

Phoebe. Sexy as FUCK

I also got StereoNinja to edit my music and add the Merrie Melodies theme to the beginning and end of my song (Bo Diddley's Roadrunner): at the beginning to compliment the title cards for my number that StereoNinja designed for me, and at the end for maximum ridiculousness whilst twirling the tassels on my pasties (followed immediately by a cartwheel. Seriously.)

Sorry, Warner Brothers.

I'd had a bit of trouble pulling the costume together. The woman I hired on Etsy to make my bustier and frilly panties did a beautiful job, but the fabric wasn't the right color, which is exactly why you don't try to color match things over the internet. I bought another cheap, shitty bustier that the zipper immediately fell off of, and took it to the world's most incredible tailor to cover in appropriately colored fabric and sew a better zipper on, which he accomplished with less than three days turn around (finding a new zipper in the correct color and length was also an adventure and ended with me in the basement of L Z Fabrics poking around in the zipper over stock section, a portion of the store I had no idea was there until that exact moment). My biggest costuming issue was my tail and how to attach it to me. The final solution was to wig tape it to my ass, the process of which is the least attractive thing ever to happen to stripping. I also had to spray paint some heels orange since the first pair I bought was far too high to dance in comfortably, let alone do a cartwheel. Similarly, I ended up dying several pairs of fishnets before I got them to the correct orange for the roadrunner's legs.

My legs are blurry because I am running REALLY FAST. Because, you know, roadrunner.

StereoNinja and the cake master both flew into town for the show, and BrownsFan and her husband, my former boss and his partner, and the CEO all came as well, because the first time you take all your clothes off in public, you should definitely invite all of your former co-workers. I was the last solo act to go on (StereoNinja says it's because I was one of the best acts, but I think it's just because it was the most ridiculous) before the finale group act, which was 10 women dancing to the Scissor Sisters' Filthy Gorgeous doing the choreography from Michael Jackson's beat it video and opening up our legs like Christmas, among other things. I can't show you my number because my normally rule flouting boyfriend was afraid to video it after Michelle said not to (in fairness, she is a bit terrifying), but I do remember everyone laughing in all the right places and audible surprise over the cartwheel (I had decided I was doing a cartwheel long before I decided what my number was going to be).

Wile E. Coyote knew something the kiddies did not, evidently. 

After the show, the bar was having a 90's hip hop party, which some of us stayed for, and during which I recited all the words to The Humpty Dance from memory approximately 10 minutes before they played the song because I once got busy in a Burger King bathroom.

I haven't performed since I moved to the U.K., in part because I'm still waiting for the shipping company to send me my things, one of which is my tail, but allegedly it will be here next week, if anyone knows of a burlesque show they think I should try to get booked for. I've also been working on a BDSM themed number with a flogger because of course I have.

(All show photos by the wonderful Ethan Coal. He recently took some other photos of me, but they are in no way appropriate for a general audience or anyone not into soft core porn. But if I know and trust you, email me and I might give you the password to the online gallery. Maybe.)

Is This Snails?

The trouble with trying to travel anywhere with me (for that matter, the trouble with trying to have a meal with me at home) is that at 35 years old I still have the palate of a child of 6. If it's not made out of pasta or bread I probably don't want it, and if it contains words I can't pronounce or sounds in any way exotic there is absolutely zero chance you are going to get me to put it in my mouth.

StereoNinja took me to Paris in March after finding out I had never been there, and while this was still in the planning stages I had decided, based on exactly no evidence or research whatsoever, that there was absolutely nothing to eat in France that wasn't made out of snails (except perhaps crepes, but those sounded suspicious to me in their own right because they've been described to me as "like a pancake" except they are not a pancake and why can't I just have a pancake? Plus they are probably stuffed full of snails) and I was probably going to starve to death. StereoNinja insisted both that this wasn't remotely true and French cuisine is some of the finest in the world, and that even if it were true, snails are delicious and I would love them. They are drowning in butter and garlic, he reasoned, which is what I drown practically everything I eat in, so there should be no problem. I countered that I would prefer to enjoy my butter and garlic without massive boogers floating in it.

In the end I managed to avoid eating any snails. In fact I ate very little of anything, not because I was being an obnoxious child, but because there are specific times designated for eating in France, and good fucking luck to you finding a single open restaurant if the time you are hungry is outside of those appointed times. What I did manage to find to eat was a Mexican restaurant just down the block from our hotel, because when you go to France for the first time in your life, it makes complete sense to eat food that you can get on practically every corner of the city you actually live in, but of better quality and 1/3 of the price. I didn't care - fajitas are something I know for a fact I don't hate and I wanted a friggin margarita (I drank four). Besides which, I now get to tell the story of how StereoNinja took me to France and I insisted on eating Mexican food the entire time.

We also spent a day in the Centre Georges Pompidou because StereoNinja is an artist and also CULTURE. Unfortunately, being surrounded by "culture" isn't something that typically makes me behave like a grown up in public. This day was no exception. It started with this kid who clearly fancied himself some sort of artiste as evidenced by his skin tight bright blue trousers and jaunty hat, which someone must have told him was the uniform. He was walking around looking very very serious about things and nodding solemnly and I was doubled over laughing. There was also a pink painting with a couple of dark vertical slits:

I refused to believe this painting wasn't called "Two Vaginas".

a giant room filled with ceiling high rolls of what appeared to be burlap, which looked for all the world like the back room of my uncles' floor covering shop where they keep all of the giant rolls of linoleum (this room caused me to turn to StereoNinja and say "I'm sorry but I really don't understand 'your people'."), and several phallic sculptures, every one of which I made StereoNinja take a photo of me pretending to suck off:

Evidence that I should not be allowed in public.

Not pictured: maturity.

For some reason I was far better behaved at the Moulin Rouge despite being completely surrounded by boobies and drinking half a bottle of champagne, apart from the fact that there was one male dancer who bore a striking resemblance to my date, and I kept referring to him as "Young [StereoNinja]", much to Old StereoNinja's irritation. I'm really not sure why he likes me. I'm starting to think he's not a real ninja*.

*OR IS HE?

50 Shades Furious

I read and review Fifty Shades Freed so you don't have to.

The hardest thing about reviewing this book, more so than the first two books, is the fact that nearly every scene has multiple things wrong with it, or shouldn't have happened at all, but most often both. It is getting increasingly hard to not write five paragraphs for any one of hers and explain both why the event would never have occurred at all, AND all the overlapping things that were ridiculous once it did. Also, since Christian and Ana are always both wrong for different reasons, I feel like I should maybe start keeping score of who was the least wrong in every argument so we can see who wins at the end (spoiler: it won't be ME). Keeping score of who is "winning" tends to be extremely harmful to relationships, but this relationship is going nowhere anyway, and frankly I just need something else to do besides scribble notes in all caps and do all the research the author should have done but didn't, otherwise I'm going to hurt someone and I don't want it to be me.

We start off Chapter 7 with Ana explaining that the mysterious saboteur in the server room is Jack Hyde, followed by Christian being pissy with her for knowing what her FORMER BOSS WHO TRIED TO RAPE HER looks like. Though in his defense, the way she describes that she knows it's him - the "line of his jaw", the "shape of his shoulders" - does make me wonder why she was examining him in such minute detail. But hey, maybe she was trying to memorize his build so she could give an accurate description of her assaulter to the police, and she just never got to because her idiot husband never bothered to tell the police. Advantage Ana. Anywhore, Barney in security positively identifies Jack Hyde using facial recognition software (in no universe does a company in Christian's line of work need any such thing unless he's secretly running a casino) and then assures Christian he will "also scan the city CCTV and see if I can track his movements." I almost wanted to give this one to James since she does live in a country that has CCTV everywhere, but it took me 5 whole minutes to do the research so no dice. Seattle has no city wide CCTV coverage. The state of Washington has traffic cameras on major roadways throughout the state, and I found a mention on Boing Boing about someone protesting the CCTV cameras that had been installed at four public parks in the city, but it was from 2008 and there hasn't been a word about it since. This is a good example of what I was talking about above: He can't check the city CCTV because it doesn't exist, but EVEN IF IT DID, you still can't (legally anyway) just hack into the city's CCTV system to track the movements of one specific person. You would need to inform the police who would then either use the CCTV or not at their discretion to find him IF they felt it was warranted. Knock it the fuck off, James, Christian isn't the goddamn Batman.

Ana then goes off to make sandwiches for them (sub sandwiches because HAHA GET IT?), which is where Christian finds her and makes some dumb comment about her being barefoot in the kitchen. Ana asks if he meant to add "and pregnant" and this is the first time it dawns on them to discuss whether either of them wants to have children and when. Three weeks AFTER the wedding. This discussion is short, and then they move on to the much more important topic of the plans for the new house. Fab, guys, you will make awesome parents. Ana asks if Christian wants to put in a playroom and he is completely taken aback by the question. Not because his sexually ignorant wife made such a bold suggestion, but because "this will be a family home." And god in heaven knows, you simply can't have kinks AND children at the same time. You know what? I'm actually fine with that particular stupidism, it just gives me one more fabulous reason to avoid breeding.

The next day, Ana goes to work ("You know you don't have to do this," Christian reminds her for the 423,346,348,936th time) and everyone but her assistant and the moron at the door are treating her with barely disguised hostility, which for once she has enough social awareness to know is because she was handed a job she didn't earn and isn't qualified for because her husband owns the company. Speaking of her husband, an hour after dropping her off he emails her to complain that his first email bounced back to him because she hasn't changed her email address yet. Which is because she didn't want to change her name and hasn't told him, but that doesn't make it any more reasonable to expect that the first thing she would do after three weeks away from a job she's only just learning how to do is to make fucking sure her email has her magic new married name attached to it. She responds to his email telling him she doesn't want to change her name at work and she will explain why later on at home. She doesn't get an email back and assumes this means he's ok. Honest to fuck, I don't understand how she can be the one married to him yet I know him about a trillion times better. You are in so much trouble, Ana.

The reason for his lack of a response becomes clear a couple hours later, when Christian (I am fucking serious, you guys, what in the shit does this man actually DO?) storms into the office to chew her out over this point. In the course of this, he manages to refer to her as an "asset" in need of "rebranding" and that he likes to stop by the companies he owns to keep management sharp and "wives in their place." IN THEIR PLACE. IN THEIR MOTHERFUCKING PLACE. I honestly don't give a shit whether Ana's argument is stupid or not, she has won this contest already (my contest, she has no hope of winning autonomy from her husband at her job). Not that I'm not angry with her. Because oh no, not wanting to change her name has hurt Christian right in his tender little feelings! She never wants to hurt his feelings! He just showed up to your job to put you in your place and call you an asset as if you were actual property that could be owned. FUCK his feelings. Fuck his feelings with an entire goddamn rose bush. Other completely retarded statements he makes during this argument:

• "I want everyone to know that you're mine."/"It's not enough." That she MARRIED him. She married him and it is NOT GOOD ENOUGH. MAYBE YOU SHOULD JUST SEW HER TO YOUR SHIRT LIKE A MERIT BADGE SO EVERYONE WILL KNOW.
• "I want your world to begin and end with me." Followed almost immediately by genuine shock that she feels suffocated. You could not be more suffocating if you held a plastic bag against her face with a pillow on top of it and a rope around her neck and you are underwater AND ALSO IN SPACE.

He goes on to explain that in addition to coming by to "deal with my errant wife" (Jesus fucking fuck), he also wanted to tell her that he was planning to change the name of the company to Grey Publishing (presumably because he just likes to see his name written on things since there is no real marketing reason to do this) and that in a year's time he's going to give it to Ana - as a wedding present. By the way, this is a wedding present she's going to spend the rest of this chapter and the next one repeatedly trying to explain to him she doesn't want. She has her dream job now, she doesn't know how to run a company, she doesn't WANT to run a company, she doesn't want anything at all to do with this plan. None of which matters, because Christian is on a roll now, trying to bribe her to do something she doesn't want to do by insisting that she do ANOTHER thing she doesn't want to do. But he's sure it will all be fine and here's why: "You are also the most well-read person I know." Because CLEARLY having read several books makes a person with no business experience and who couldn't find her head if it wasn't attached to her neck qualified to run a fucking company. How in the name of Lindsay Lohan's skidmarked underpants have you had any success in business EVER if these are the sort of business decisions you make? Where did you acquire these amazing skills, Christian, Enron? Why do I get the feeling that if anyone took a look at how your companies actually operate they would find nothing but fraud and waste and breathtaking corruption? Because I have not seen you make one single sound decision about anything business related AND you have time to STALK YOUR WIFE ALL DAY LONG EVERY SINGLE DAY, so it seems like the only way you could have built an empire like this is through fraud, crime, or suspiciously good luck (which is likely to turn out to be fraud or crime).

Sorry, I got a little off track there. Anyway, she eventually gives in to all his demands, but she's still angry about it when they get home  ("I thought we had sorted all this in your office." CHOKE ON A DICK) so they fight some more even though the outcome will ultimately be the same, mainly because James wants to have Christian say more misogynistic and patronizing things since SEXISM IS SUPER FUCKING ROMANTIC: "Don't be mad. You're so precious to me. Like a priceless asset, like a child." FUCK YOU CHRISTIAN, I HOPE YOU GET TEABAGGED BY A GANG OF ELEPHANTS.

Chapter 8 consists of three things: Ana behaves like a psycho, Ana gets off playing Tune In Tokyo, and Christian gets a haircut. Or if you look at it another way, one thing: Amber wonders if jumping out her third floor bedroom window will kill her or at least put her in a prolonged coma. Gia Matteo is the architect Christian and Ana have chosen to remodel their new house. She is, of course, one of the finest architects in all of Seattle if not the world. Ana despises her because she is obviously trying to steal Christian, but she doesn't want to fire her because her drawings are breathtaking. Even in terms of first world problems this isn't a problem. Guess what, Ana? There are other architects, and you have enough money to hire any or probably ALL of them. Fuck, you could probably afford to have Frank Lloyd Wright exhumed and have his body reanimated so he can build you a pretty house. HIRE SOMEONE ELSE. She's not going to consider the most obvious option though. No, instead when Gia comes over to discuss the drawings, Ana is going to dress like a tart, because hey lady, two can play the "I am a desperate slut with no self esteem" game! Certainly the most mature way to deal with people who dare think you have an attractive husband. This scene is one of the finest examples of "everything is wrong with it" I have ever seen. James has really outdone herself with this one. Because for starters what's about to happen would never actually happen. I don't care how good an architect you are, if you behave grossly inappropriately toward your clients, let alone right in front of their wives' faces, you will no longer have any clients. So when Gia comes in and virtually ignores Ana while getting uncomfortably close to Christian and flirtatiously touches his arm, I am once again reminded that E.L. James isn't going to let plausibility get in the way of writing the soap opera she wants to write. But even if you can suspend disbelief that the scene even exists, what happens in it STILL doesn't make sense. When Gia touches Christian, who we know from two and a half books worth of nauseatingly frequent reminders HATES TO BE TOUCHED and must CONTROL ALL THE THINGS, his response is to timidly take a step away from her, say nothing at all about it, and wait for Ana to come stand in between them, giving her a relieved look at being "rescued". THEN, when Christian leaves the room for some urgent matter with Taylor, Ana goes into full on jealous psychopath mode and threatens Gia several times to stay away from her man OR ELSE. And then another thing that would never happen happens: Gia becomes terrified of Ana and suddenly starts to treat her with respect. In real life, no commission is worth having to deal with an unhinged crazy bitch who has hallucinated some sort of threat to her marriage, and certainly not the greatest architect since god, and a real life Gia Matteo would have said "fuck this shit" and walked away from the job. The only thing that could have made this scene any more preposterous is if they got into an actual Jerry Springer style cat fight (it comes close though - Ana thinks to herself at one point "Yeah bitch, mine" which is exactly the kind of thing you would hear on Springer, but she doesn't say it out loud).

After that debacle and another several pages of the same argument about her name they've had twice already, Ana decides that Christian needs a haircut so she's going to do it all super romantic-like and drags him in the bathroom to sensuously wash his hair, which is when I make a horrified choking noise in my throat and write "please god no, don't do this." The haircut doesn't go so well at first because they haven't fucked in FIVE WHOLE MINUTES. The hair washing is interrupted by Christian who is overwhelmed with lust over it, so he ties Ana's hands behind her back with her underwear and more or less gives her a titty twister until she comes everywhere. While this is happening he tells her how beautiful her breasts are and how he's going to fuck them someday. I'm not sure why that day isn't today and actually right now, but I'm in better shape than Ana is over that statement: What the hell does that mean? she wonders. Oh my god, I hate you. Ok, fine, you've never done that before, but you are having sex ALL OVER THE FUCKING PLACE, you must understand the mechanics by now, you should be able to sort this one out yourself without breaking all three of your brain cells. When Ana comes (the second time) while sitting on Christian's magical Boner of Ecstasy, she starts crying, which she does pretty much every single time she has an orgasm, and frankly I hope she drowns in her emo, emo tears. Especially after she thinks "After all our arguing today, my frustration with him, his with me - we still have this." Holy bananas do you suck at life. Hey, at least we have sex since the rest of our relationship is fucking terrible!

Once Ana's teargasm has subsided, she remembers that the whole point of this exercise was to cut Christian's hair, so she goes down the hall to his study to get some scissors and two things happen. The first is that she happens to see Taylor and Mrs. Jones kissing and HOLY SHIT IT IS EXPLOSIVE NEWS. Just to Ana, though - Christian already knows and points out that they are both adults and single and free to do whatever the fuck they want. But Ana just can't wrap her head around this because - no, for real this is her ACTUAL reason - "I always thought Mrs. Jones was older than Taylor." The woman ALWAYS has to be younger, how else will the man be able to romantically treat her like a helpless child? YOU ARE SUCH AN ASSHOLE ANA. The second thing that happens is while going through Christian's desk looking for scissors she finds a gun. Fully loaded. In an unlocked drawer. Despite multiple attempts on his life, a high speed car chase, and a mentally unstable ex stalking them, Ana is totally perplexed about why Christian would have a gun. I am only perplexed by the fact that every other sentence out of Christian's mouth hole is about how he is so afraid of anything ever happening to Ana, and keeping a loaded weapon in an unlocked drawer in an unlocked room in an apartment housing at least two other people besides Christian and Ana that has already had its security breached once by a woman who was so disoriented she couldn't even wash herself is pretty much the definition of asking for an accident to happen in which Ana gets killed. In fact, the only law of gun safety he hasn't violated right here is that he apparently doesn't sleep with a loaded gun under his fucking pillow. YET. P.S. This is the second gun you've mentioned in this alleged love story, Ms. James...you DO know that the stereotype of "every single American owns a gun" is not actually true, right? Right? Ana doesn't mention the gun to Christian when she goes back to finish cutting his hair, because if there's one thing they are both good at, it's never ever discussing anything important until it becomes a fucking crisis. Instead the chapter ends with her cutting his hair, another argument about her running a company, her fundamentally misunderstanding something he said earlier in a way that makes him panic, and frantic, desperate sex that solves everything. So, basically EXACTLY THE SAME FUCKING THING AS EVERY OTHER SHITTY PAGE OF THIS SHITTY ASS BOOK OF SHIT. SHIT.

Oh, the tally for these two chapters is Ana - 2, Christian - nil (I am counting the half dozen fights about the same fucking thing as just one long extra stupid thing).

Silver Medal Try, But No

Despite advice to the contrary from an interested party with ulterior motives, posting a strategically framed photo of myself nude and inviting my readers to play a game I invented called "Tits or Knees" is not something I am actually drunk enough to do. I probably was at the time of suggestion, but then I drank a crap ton of milk and watched old episodes of Doctor Who for three hours until I sobered up enough to realize that that was dumb and to type well enough for spell check to guess what I was actually trying to say. Sorry, pervs.

Besides, it was definitely knees.

50 Cries Sadder

H-Town and amberance read Fifty Shades Darker so you don't have to.

H-Town: oh my god, fuck this book in its stupid dumb fucking face

me: oh my god this book

H-Town: KILL IT WITH FIRE

me: every time I read this I notice my face is hurting after. I think I am making monster faces the entire time

H-Town: lol

Chapter 18 begins with Christian (driving Ana’s car since she can’t be trusted to drive it herself) and Ana on their way to yet another surprise. They pull up to a massive fucking house in a massive fucking yard that is right on the coast. The house is old, but opulent. She makes a point of telling us there are four crystal chandeliers – in one room. They go out to the balcony and the view of the Sound nearly knocks her over. Turns out Christian is thinking of buying this house (from the realtor who Ana is instantly jealous of because she smiled at Christian, natch). You know, for when they are married. Assuming they are getting married. She hasn’t answered him yet, and we have been reminded about it on every fucking page since four chapters ago because he keeps trying to demand an answer from her.

me: So we left off all the way back at them looking at that house

H-Town: yes I love that she describes how he puts down the window in his car as he drives up to the house stupid stupid descriptions
also, how does one smile ironically?

me: I'm not sure. I should learn so I can smile ironically at this book

H-Town: I know how to smile demonically, because that's what I do when I think of hunting down EL James

me: her description of the sky is equally bad

H-Town: yes, the field - she wants to lay down in it and look at the sky. And I want to run over her with a tractor

me: "vermilion hues bleed into the cerulean sky, with opals and aquamarines"
I wrote "you're going to lose those crayons up your cooz"

H-Town: HAHAHAHA
her blood is pooling DOWN THERE in a lovely deep bronzey red
gross
sorry
OH AND THERE ARE FOUR CRYSTAL CHANDELIERS
I took that as sort of a "Fuck you" to all readers who don't live in a house like that

me: yes, so the obvious thing to do is tear the whole thing down and start over (“I want to buy it, demolish it, and build a new house – for us,” says Christian before going on to explain that he wants a house more eco friendly and sustainable. Or you could just go BUY A SUSTAINABLE HOUSE.)

H-Town: I KNOW
"I want to rebuild it eco"
wtf Christian
that is not at all Eco
you stupid bag of body wash

me: Oh you mean I can renovate what’s there to be more eco? I had no idea
you have INFINITE MONEY

H-Town: "I'll have to ask Elliot."
YOU ARE DUMB
EL James is dumber than 100% post-consumer waste
also, come on Christian, if you're really into being green, you wouldn't have 700 giant houses and 400 gas-guzzling cars
 
me: correct. maybe just get the one Prius and be done with it

H-Town: the sexiest Prius ever
0-60 in 15 seconds
AW YEAH
anywhore
she goes, "Christian, you had me at the meadow."
you mean the meadow he just said he was going to build a horse paddock in?
because he just shit on your field
FUCK OPEN SPACE, I WANT TO BE GREEN AND BUILD ON IT
ECO HORSES!!! THEY RUN ON HAY!

me: LOLOL
which she then called horses 4-legged fiends of Satan?

H-Town: horses aren't evil
they're lovely
spiders are eight-legged fiends of Satan

me: EXACTLY
so then let's go the club and celebrate your stupid promotion that you somehow forgot about even though it just happened 6 hours ago (Christian specifies “one of” his clubs. Because, you guys, he is so rich oh my god. I don’t know if you’ve noticed that yet.)

H-Town: also, the Mile High Club
REALLY?
I jumped out the window when I read that

me: I know, I wrote NO IT IS NOT FUCKING CALLED THAT

H-Town: as if no one's going to get that joke
seriously, that's like calling a restaurant Hooters
it's not exactly subtle

me: The bartender used to work at a gay bar called Manhole

H-Town: haha, I remember him saying that
HEY GUYS, WANNA COME TO MY NEW RESTAURANT CALLED "SEXY TITS AND CUNT LAND"?
YOULL NEVER GUESS WHAT IT'S LIKE!!
tell him to change the name of Tai's to "Sexy Tits and Cunt Land"

me: I would totally drink at that establishment

H-Town: same here
anyway, now they do a stupid no-panties dinner
blah blah seduction with seafood (Christian makes her take her panties off before dinner and then refuses to touch her at all while they’re eating. We are then subjected to six – SIX – pages of detailed descriptions on how they sexily ate food at each other. It is not sexy. It is fucking ludicrously irritating.)
I'm such a square, I was all, "I hoped he washed his hands before touching his slacks."
Think of the dry cleaning!

me: my only note from that whole 6 pages was "oh my god make this stop"
"I suck the hollandaise sauce off the asparagus"

H-Town: yeah, I wrote "HA HA Why talk about issues when we can just bang?!"
because she almost said that exact thing

me: OH THAT"S RIGHT
"issues, schmissues" is what she said
awesome
you are obviously carefully considering this marriage

H-Town: let's just screw, that will solve any problems we have
and then later, "Let's not talk about my weight. I like being slim."
You are not slim, you are starving.
People in Darfur eat more than her.
*goes to hell*

me: Karen Carpenter was a face stuffing fat ass next to Ana

H-Town: Kate Moss is all, "Hey, maybe eat a cracker."

me: a talking broom was like "you should really put on some weight"

H-Town: The fake skeleton in my anatomy class was all, "Eat a goddamn sandwich, you waif."

me: A guitar string told her she should get some help for her disorder
then more elevator tension (Christian fingers her in the elevator with other people around who don’t notice, then Ana makes a joke about having never had sex in a car which obviously makes Christian angry with her. By “obviously” I mean because he gets angry for no goddamn reason every time she figures out how to string together a complete sentence, not because anger in that situation would make any fucking sense. Then they barely make it back into the apartment before desperately fucking on the table in the foyer.)

H-Town: INTERCOURSE
then she goes to work, right?

me: oh right, in a low cut skin tight red dress (I’m not sure why James points this out since no one tries to rape her later. Force of habit I guess.)

H-Town: she says something about how the day flies by
and I wrote "Oh how the day flies by when you are not at all qualified for the job you have."

me: she's George Costanza with the Penske file

H-Town: hahaha
and now we've arrived at one of the stupidest things EVER

Ana goes out for drinks after work with Jose, who is in town to deliver the photos Christian bought so no one but him can ever look at Ana. Ana keeps trying to get in touch with Christian, but he refuses to respond to her. She assumes this because drinks with Jose has made him into the Hulk once again. She would probably be right under normal circumstances, but that day is not today. Instead she gets a phone call from Christian’s brother informing her that Christian and his helicopter are missing. Chapter 19 starts with every person Christian has ever met in his life gathered in his apartment, all terrified because he is obviously dead and the authorities have called off the search. Mind you he has only been missing for eight hours, an amount of time that would not even trigger a search unless the person missing is 7 years old. It is also all over the news. Ana spends most of this chapter in a trance, staring at the fireplace, lamenting about how she can’t go on without him, and recalling everything he’s ever said to her. Included in Ana’s thoughts here is the line “And we don’t know where he is.” Thank you, Einstein, I had no idea that’s what “missing” meant.

me: oh my fuck

H-Town: he goes missing
FOR EIGHT HOURS
EIGHT GODDAMN HOURS
no one would've gone looking for him yet

me: the last note I wrote for chapter 18 was "good. maybe he's dead."
especially no one would have gone looking for him and also ALREADY CALLED OFF THE SEARCH

H-Town: apparently you should never go missing in the northwest

me: Noted

H-Town: because they just give up very easily
they're all rapists, but you can hide pretty easily, I guess they stop looking

me: well I’m not going there anyway since everyone is a rapist
"I'll be nothing without him"
Jesus, you could try being an individual

H-Town: also, you can't just step out for a few minutes, because they'll put you on TV as missing and you'll be all, "Dammit, I was just going to get some takeout."

me: yes but this was because it's CHRISTIAN GREY, H-Town

H-Town: EVERYONE KNOWS HIM
the world mourns

me: if it was a lesser man like the President they'd wait and see first

Turns out Christian is alive and well, which we find out when he walks through the door and is startled to find that his entire family is upset that he was missing because he is a bad bad man who doesn’t deserve love. His explanation: The person he was flying with had never seen Mount Saint Helens so he decided to do a quickie fly by (which I’m pretty sure you can’t do without registering a flight plan, but whatever) when all of a sudden there is a fire in the tail and both his engines and the electronics all died (or he cut them intentionally because of the fire, it varies from page to page because E.L. James has the attention span of a frightened gerbil on cocaine). He manages to land Charlie Tango and put out the fire, but now he is in the middle of nowhere with no cell reception, so he and his companion walk for four hours (he claims it take four hours because she’s wearing heels. No woman alive would walk through the woods in heels for four hours, she would take them off and keep an eye out for pointy sticks) until they find a road, by which time both their cell phones have died. In the course of him telling this story, and then later in the next chapters, it is foreshadowed no less than six times that all those malfunctions happening at once might mean the helicopter was sabotaged.

H-Town: and two remarkably stupid quotes from this chapter
"oh the feel of this warm, vital, sensual man beneath my fingers."
and
"you are my talisman, Ana."
You are a fuckstick, Christian.

me: the whole series of events:
everything that can break on a helicopter breaks at the same time

H-Town: but there's intrigue!

me: somehow there is not time to radio for help before shutting off the electronics

H-Town: they let on like someone did it!

me: no cell phone reception
walking for 100 miles
then cell phone dies
...if someone I was dating gave me that story after going missing all day my first reaction would be "Yeah right. Who are you fucking?"

H-Town: speaking of silly
The baby just got home from the library and immediately removed her dress
she's now in her shoes and underwear

me: that's my girl

We had to end the conversation here because H-Town was rudely interrupted by people who want her to do work, but the only thing left in the chapter now that Christian is home and safe and Ana doesn’t have to throw herself off a bridge is that since it’s after midnight, Ana tells Christian he can open his birthday present. It’s a stupid piece of shit tourist keychain of the Seattle skyline with flashy lights. On the back of it the flashy lights are blinking the word “YES”. SIX FUCKING WEEKS SHE HAS KNOWN THIS ASSHOLE. You know what? Fine. Fucking marry him so this whole thing can end in a murder suicide and I can stop reading this.

50 Heaves Drier

H-Town and amberance read and review 50 Shades Darker so you don't have to.

me: How can a book as ridiculous as this one have jumped the shark?
 it should not have been able to get more stupid
AND YET

H-Town: IT IS SO DUMB
I am running out of ways to describe how much I hate it

Chapter 13 opens with Ana facing down Leila who is standing there in Ana's kitchen pointing a gun at her. To Ana's credit, she does repeatedly wonder if Ethan is ok. It is the only thing I'm willing to give her credit for in this entire chapter. Ana asks Leila if she's alone, touching off a repetition of the word "alone" from Leila as though the record is skipping, then asks for the gun causing a disturbing gollumesque scene of Leila petting it and insisting it's all she has left. Leila's movements are described as "unnatural" and James would have us believe she's never heard of the word inadequate: "'In-ad-e-quate.' She tests the word, sounding it out, seeing how it feels on her tongue." Leila is one very sad android.

Suddenly, Christian and Taylor burst through the door to save the day like knights in shining douche water. BECAUSE OF COURSE THEY DID. I can't even be mad anymore. It's like I have battle fatigue. When Christian comes in the room, Leila goes into automated submissive mode. She immediately puts down the gun, drops to her knees, puts her hand on her thighs, and points her eyes at the floor. I am actually still naive enough to think this is a good thing - the threat is eliminated, everyone can relax. Everyone, that is, except Ana: "Christian's expression is raw, full of some unnamed emotion. It could be pity, fear, affection...or is it love? No, please, not love!" Good god, the word you are looking for is COMPASSION. It should be in the thesaurus you have shoved up your snatch, right next to pity in fact. But no, everything in this universe and in every unseen parallel universe revolves around ANA, so instead we are treated to NINE PAGES worth of Ana thinking, both to herself and out loud, that Christian doesn't want her anymore because he is in love with a filthy waif on the floor of her apartment who ANYONE can see is in desperate need of someone to help her. EXCEPT FOR ANA.

me: really, all i have to say about the entire chapter is exactly what christian said to her
"This is not about you, Ana"
because OH MY FUCK WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER

H-Town: dumb stupid crap

me: some of my notes:
HOLY ASS SPACKLE you know what she means.
YOU SELF CENTERED TURD POPSICLE
I LOATHE YOU YOU STUPID ASSHOLE CUNTWAD BITCH TACO

H-Town: those are epic

me: I wanted to take the gun and shoot Ana myself

H-Town: yes, I was thinking, "Shoot! Hurry, shoot!"

me: get out of the apartment! no! get out of the apartment! no! get out of the apartment!
"I think he's trying to convey some sort of message"
ACTUAL FUCKING LINE (Christian tells Ana to leave the apartment FOUR TIMES before that sentence appeared. And in the end, Taylor had to pick her up and carry her outside.)

Downstairs, Ana finds out to her relief that Ethan had just got there and had never been in the apartment. She promptly bursts into tears (because Christian might love Leila, not because she narrowly escaped being shot). She tells Taylor, she TELLS Taylor - I'm repeating this because you'll need it later - that she and Ethan are going to go get a drink. Conveniently there is a bar directly across the street, and they sit, we are told, "by the window". They proceed to get drunk whilst Ana tells Ethan all about Leila and how sad she is that Christian is probably about to leave her. Once she is good and loaded (alcohol being the perfect balm for the "hideous blossoming pain" in her heart), Ethan walks her home, where she finds Christian has worked himself into a frenzy wondering where she was because she'd left her purse in the car.

H-Town:he couldn't find her
IN A BAR ACROSS THE STREET FROM HER APT
yet he can stalk her in every other way?

me:oh that was a great line
"I couldn't even track you!"
Tomorrow they will be installing a GPS locator inside her head to fix that problem

H-Town: well, he's tried installing himself into her vagina enough times
HEY-OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

me: BOOM

After Ana breaks down, they go through another insane round of co-dependant bullshit showing us once again that they both are entirely too insecure for an adult relationship and also that they never, ever listen to what the other has to say. Please don't leave me! No, you don't leave! No YOU don't leave! Which goes on until finally, inexplicably, Christian gets down in the same submissive posture Leila had been in earlier.

me: So I'm very confused at the end of 13/beginning of 14 what submissive Christian was all about

H-Town: desperation?
not a clue

me: she's not in the lifestyle. that reaction would make no sense to her. and didn't

H-Town: well, no one said Christian was smart
besides Ana, anyway
a pencil would seem smart to Ana

Chapter 14 consists entirely of a conversation that is so bizarre and goes absolutely nowhere, I wound up taking almost no notes for the entire first half of it. But eventually we find out this: the reason Christian is so afraid Ana will leave, and the reason all his submissives have looked just like Ana, is because that is what his mother looked like, and as a sadist, he needs them to look that way so he can pretend he's whipping his terrible, terrible mother. And then apparently fucking her afterward. I don't even know anymore.

me:let's see, blah blah blah melodrama
this entire chapter needs to die in a fire.
every single word of it
oh right, after pages and pages of oh my poor broken damaged christian i must save him! then she's like "You're a fucking sicko!"
MAKE UP YOUR DAMN MIND

H-Town: "i screw little girls who look like my crackwhore mom"
nice, real nice

me: i can't even process that. as a participant in the lifestyle, that she would even fucking go there is too insulting for me to think about it

H-Town: and then she closes it out with a cherry on top "deviant sexual life style"
FUCKING FUCKITY FUCK FUCK HAMMER
Eat a bowl of whale dicks, EL

me: Mommy issues is not a some kind of common problem in this community
but H-Town, there is only one way he can be sure that she won't run away from him

H-Town: mawwiage

Seriously, he proposes. And the reason he proposes is so that he'll stop being afraid that Ana might run away now that she knows he has mommy issues and doesn't understand the term sadist.

H-Town: no one ever runs from marriage, Amber
NO ONE (this is funnier if you know that I have planned to get married three times in my life, and then turned around and decided NOT to do that three times.)

me: FIVE GODDAMN WEEKS, first of all
and yeah

H-Town: because they are teens

me: Christian lives in a magical fantasyland where no one has ever gotten divorced
Then more eating
I'm hungry, but you said something i don't like so now I'm not hungry

H-Town: and then THEY FIGHT AGAIN
SUCK A BAG OF SHIT

me: oh AND
James calls macaroni and cheese "nursery food"
I took personal exception to that
and it proves that she's never met a live American in her entire life
because ALL AMERICANS love mac and cheese FOREVER
we DEEP FRY that noise and call it a delicacy

The fight starts when Ana tells Christian that she was having a drink with Ethan that whole time she was "missing", and Christian immediately turns into a jealous rage monster. It continues with her asking in an accusatory tone what he'd been doing with Leila that whole time, and then gets an answer for which she is legitimately upset.

me: i liked the part where she was all "two can play at this game"
and tries to make him jealous about Ethan
I wrote in my notes "everyone is blindingly jealous all the time because love should make you feel angry and paranoid constantly"
in that fight though, i do have to say
seriously, you gave her a bath?

H-Town: BUT SHE WAS SO DIRTY AND IN NEED OF HELP!
whatever Christian, you just wanted to see her boobs and cootch again
just be honest

me: i hope you don't mind i GAVE HER YOUR CLOTHES
has he even met Ana?

H-Town: I ogled and touched her in the tub, then gave her your clothes
Now, suck my dick because it's dreamy and covered in Mac n Cheese and I'm Christian Grey

me: she freaks out when total strangers eye fuck him from 100 yards away, but no, go ahead and dress your ex lover that almost just killed me in my clothes, I'm cool with it

H-Town: oh, earlier she had a sentence about "whipping and caning and shit"
and I thought she'd said "Whipping and canning.'
And I thought, now there's a pastime
whipping, while canning some veggies for the winter
pleasure and pain

me: hang on I'll hit you again in a minute, i just have to finish canning these apricot preserves

H-Town: "Smells delicious! NOW HIT ME AGAIN, BITCH."
aaaand scene

me: S and Martha Stewart

After the fight, Ana storms off to go to bed and winds up in a Lifetime Movie Network special.

me: So much to process!
here let me just crumple up dramatically on the bathroom floor and sob like they do in the movies
I've cried on the bathroom floor too, but not over an abusive boyfriend playing happy tub time with a crazy broad and them asking me to marry him right after
usually it's just because i drank too much
sob sob "why did i drink 9 margaritas?"
for example
so, Chapter 15
sad sad christian has a scary dream because Ana was thirsty (Ana gets up to get a drink, and in the 5 minutes it takes her to do this, Christian somehow magically knows in his sleep that she has left the bed and therefore starts having a nightmare.)

H-Town: She was SO FAR AWAY

me: how did his body know she left while he was still sleeping?

H-Town: his penis went on a journey to Great Vagina Cave, but it wasn't there so he freaked out

me: "she's gone! quick! START THE HORROR SHOW BEFORE SHE COMES BACK!"
also apparently she has to lay in bed all night long no matter what so christian can find his happy place until the end of time i guess?
she's going to have to start wearing Depends to bed

All is forgotten from the fight earlier because you see guys? He NEEDS her. So they fuck first and then talk about their feelings. They stay up so long talking about them that she winds up being late to work in the morning.

me: before she left for work
he says she should marry him because "we can get to know each other then"

H-Town: oh my god yes
Because that's how marriage works
I met A-Town two days before we got married
We like excitement and awkward discussion

me: that's totally the best order for that to happen
you should have had the baby first, then met her, then got married immediately, then got to know each other
you failed

H-Town: She's late to work and Jack is an angryface and he wants her to type up a letter he wrote.
W T F
He actually wrote a letter by hand despite having a computer then he wants her to type it up

me: this dude is allegedly in publishing?

H-Town: COMPUTERZ R HARD

me: also, make 100 copies of that and snail mail them to all our authors.
don't send them an email or anything, they'd never see that because writers don't use computers either
I like how we're supposed to think Jack is an asshole because he expects her to show up on time and do her job

H-Town: and she still fucks away with time emailing Christian

me: whatevs, i was only 15 minutes late, why can't i email my boyfriend all day and constantly take personal calls? (In the course of the day, after she was already late to work on her 8th day at this job, she takes calls from Jose, Ethan and Mia. In the conversation with Ethan, she calls her boss "nasty and ugly", then realizes he's looking right at her. Classy.)

H-Town: We all know work is for working, and for gchatting about stupid books.

me: he wants me to get coffee and bring him lunch? what am I, his assistant?
signed,
Ana Steele, assistant to Jack Rapist Hyde
also, she won't use her blackberry no matter how many fucking times Christian tells her, therefore TIME TO FIGHT
this line was awesome "I make my way to the copy machine - which, of course, is suffering from a paper jam - and when I've fixed it, I find it's out of paper."
must have been jammed with that fancy imaginary paper i guess

H-Town: "Oh hey, there's my hairbrush!"

me: "christian must have left my underwear in there"
it's suffering from a jam jam.
never do whipping and canning in the copy room

Ana spends the entirety of the day complaining that her angry boss is asking her to do things, every single one of which is part of her job description. We are supposed to feel that her boss is unreasonable, and that this is because he is angry at her not for being late and then refusing to work, but for having a boyfriend. Because she actually has to do some work for once, several of Christian's emails go unanswered. He panics that something terrible must have happened to her because no one in this book understands how working works. And then, of course, James ends the chapter with something terrible about to happen to her. After hours when the office is deserted, her creepy boss corners her in the kitchen, closes the door behind him and: "His lips twitch into a grotesque smile, and his eyes gleam deep, dark cobalt. 'At last, I have you on your own,' he says, and he slowly licks his lower lip."

H-Town: did you read chapter 16? with Jack McCreepy RapeHyde

me: no not yet
I am looking forward to that because at the end of 15 I wrote "Rapist boss is rapey"

H-Town: yeah, wait til you read that chapter you will want to set something else on fire

me: one other thing, from when she's zoning out at lunch wondering if she should marry an abusive stalker who wants to fuck his dead mom

H-Town: i skimmed that section SO HARD

me: he needs to learn little things, like empathy and boundaries
LITTLE THINGS
he needs to learn little things, like how to be a HUMAN BEING
he's completely out of control and can't relate to other people at all, but hey, no big whoop
even now I'm still stunned that people think this is a romance

H-Town: I saw someone reading it on a Kindle the other day and I wanted to knock it out of their hands like I was blocking them from a bullet or something all slo-mo
NOOOOOOOOO *slap*
then the crowd nearby applauds

me: you should get a medal for that
maybe this is why i suck at relationships.
because i keep forgetting the rules
abuse is romantic and being rich excuses you from being a douchebag

H-Town: "Oh Amber, I love you."
"I'm stalking you."
"LET'S BANG."
that's how it always is

me: in all fairness, that last part is basically true
"Hi Amber, I have a pulse!"
"Well then do me!"

H-Town: You're not like that
You're much more nuanced.
"Hi Amber, I have a pulse. Wanna do it?"
"Sure!"
see?

me: you caught me. I just wanted to use "do me" in a sentence

50 Frowns Deeper

Last night while I was reading, I stopped mid-sentence and sent an outraged email to H-Town which was titled “FUCK THIS IN THE ASS TIMES A MILLION WITH SHAQ’S RIGHT SHOE”.

Chapter 5 opens with Anna confirming with the girl from reception what she already knows – that the woman Christian is talking to is Elena the Evil Pedo from Hell – and completely losing her shit. She storms out of the salon because she loves to make dramatic scenes and proceeds to have THE EXACT SAME CONVERSATION with Christian about what a threat this woman is to her that they have already had at least three or four times. If you took out every scene or description where the author repeats herself, the entire trilogy would be 11 pages long.

H-Town: she writes, "My scalp is trying to leave the building."
My response: "My brain is trying to leave this book."

me: followed almost immediately by "Mrs. Leonard? I thought she was divorced"
because no one divorced has ever kept their married name, ever

H-Town: ever. Amber. Ever.

me: and also they proceed to have the same conversation they have every day

H-Town: yup Sex - angry conversation - sex - angry conversation - sex - angry conversation

While they are standing there screaming at each other in public about a problem that doesn’t actually exist, Christian gets a phone call warning him of an actual problem. It seems ghost girl is still on the loose but now she’s managed to get herself a concealed weapons permit (he claims during the conversation that she got this without a background check). Christian relays this to Ana and unilaterally decides she will be staying with him until his people get a handle on the situation. Ana reacts to this by screaming at him that she wants a haircut. Christian reacts to that by picking her up off the ground like a small child throwing a temper tantrum, which in all fairness to Christian is EXACTLY WHAT SHE IS DOING.

H-Town: and he FUCKING CARRIES HER
I wanted to open my front door and throw the book outside
but was afraid it would kill the grass.
and for the 74th time in my notes, I wrote, "Ana is stupid."
Also, I just started keeping track of how many times he runs his hands through his hair
that's this book's "pants from hips" comment
four times in chapters 5 and 6

me: so he tells her about Leila going all The Shining
and she's like FUCK THAT I WANT A HAIRCUT
HOW COULD SOMEONE'S LIFE UNRAVELING BE MORE IMPORTANT THAN GETTING RID OF THESE SPLIT ENDS?!?!?

H-Town: hahaha

me: btw, that concealed weapons permit?
NOPE
I checked
Washington State requires a background check that includes a mental health check and takes at least 30 days, sometimes up to 90
she did not get out of the hospital after a suicide attempt and go get a concealed carry permit at the fucking grocery store the next day

After carrying her over his shoulder in public, they go to Ana’s so she can pack since whatever Christian decides is the law. By the way, on hearing that Leila can now practically get a handgun from the nearest vending machine, her ONLY fear is that something might happen to Christian. Her instinct for self-preservation does not fucking exist. When they get to his place (he drove her Audi because women should never drive if a man is present) they continue having the same conversation they had an hour ago while they wait for Franco the “small, dark and gay” hairdresser to come over and cut Ana’s hair, which clearly will solve all of her problems.

me: did you enjoy the hairdresser?

H-Town: Oh my god
first off, nice slight about "I bet he's from Baltimore or something"
fake-uh Italian-uh accent-uh
also, he's gay
WHAT A SURPRISE

me: you should have known that because he's dark. ALL MEN WITH A TAN ARE GAY
why does she think he's faking an accent anyway?

H-Town: Italians aren't real
can we talk about the "I put a spell on you" part? (this is the song that is playing while she’s cooking them lunch)

me: haha yes

H-Town: first, IMPRESSIVE CONTENTS OF HIS FRIDGE
He could have a bottle of ketchup in there and it'd be more impressive than Ana's empty anorexic cavern of a fridge

me: HOLY FUCK THERES PEAS IN HERE

H-Town: but then. THEN, the "I Put A Spell On You" part
when he sashays across the room towards her
HE'S SO SEXY
I could not stop laughing
if anyone did that to me, it could be the hottest person on the planet, I would die of laughter

me: when I come see you I’m going to play that song and then duck walk across the room to you.
romantically

H-Town: and then I'll crab walk to you

Following her SUPER IMPORTANT HAIRCUT, they go back to their discussion about everything that’s wrong with him ever, which leads to her complaining about the stalking. He tells her he does “background checks” on all of his submissives and this is why he knows every goddamn thing about her – including her bank account number. Then they argue about money some more, and he brags to her about how much money he makes an hour, a figure that no one who isn’t actually paid an hourly wage would know, and certainly not a person who has more money than god.

Me: so he shows her the file on her

H-Town: oh that's right
what the FUCK

me: there is 1. no reason he would need a copy of her birth certificate at all, ever

H-Town: Maybe he's an Obama birther
he doesn't want subs from KENYA!

me: 2. no way you can get a bank account number from a background check

H-Town: Come on, Amber, we know he's magic. He probably just gazed dreamily at an ATM and it swooned and spit out all her account details.

me: I’m sure, but that's how he tells her he got it
her reaction: "I don't know if I should be angry or flattered."
REALLY? YOU REALLY DON'T KNOW WHICH ONE
I wrote FUCK YOURSELF
but of course, she doesn't know how
oh also in this scene
THIS IS THE BEST PART
"do you even know how much money I make?"

H-Town: "do you know who I am?" it's like that
I make $100,000 every hour
I use it to buy hair gel that I am constantly putting in my hair with my hands.

me: EVERY HOUR

H-Town: Every time a bell rings, Christian makes $100,000

me: I did some math
James wasn't clear whether that was every hour of his life or every hour that he works so I did both
If he makes $100k every hour of his life, he is making $876 million a year
If you assume he is talking about a 40 hour work week, it's $208 million
So then I got on the internet

H-Town: which EL James and Ana clearly don't know how to do

me: want to know how much Rupert Murdoch made last year?

H-Town: yes I do

me: total compensation $33.3 million

H-Town: hahahaha

me: Warren Buffett's actual salary is $100k a year but including investment income, he made $48.1 million in 2006 (latest record available)

H-Town: YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND CHRISTIAN, AMBER!
He owns hair salons! and publishing companies!

me: yes, salon owners and publishers totes make more than four times what Warren Buffett makes

Ana goes to the bedroom while Christian assembles some sort of SWAT team that is going to go looking for Leila, and she googles (WHO KNEW) schizophrenia because she feels Christian exhibits multiple personalities. Since schizophrenia and multiple personality disorder are totes the same thing as each other and rapid mood swings are the same thing as having more than one distinct personality. WAY TO BE DEROGATORY ABOUT SOME VERY SERIOUS MENTAL ILLNESSES, JAMES. THE PSYCHIATRIC COMMUNITY THANKS YOU.

Me: is "breathtaking ignorancism" in the DSM-IV?

H-Town: it should be now
Then Christian comes in and they take a lipstick tour (during the part of the argument when she was whining again about not being allowed to touch his chest, he suggests that they mark off the areas that are “safe zones” with a tube of red lipstick he apparently keeps around the house)
H-Town: I really wanted her to write "I'm a giant stalkery douchebag" on his back

me: oh I would have been drawing penises all over him. ALL OVER HIM
and then I would call him " Dickelback "

H-Town: hhahahahaa

me: (this is where a reference to Nickelback lyrics/songs would go if I knew any)

H-Town: thank god you don't know any

me: Dickelback is our new band
Our first album is Why Are You So Stupid? and the single off it is called Account Number 2950482945893

Chapter 6 starts with a tired banging scene I’m certain I’ve already read, and is followed up with her getting dressed in eveningwear finery for the charity masquerade party they are attending that evening at his parents’ place. Oh, and some ben-wa balls, which she still has yet to call by their proper name.

me: Chapter 6
INTERCOURSE

H-Town: this line: "Boy, I want him."

me: I wrote that down too!
is she 11?

H-Town: once the hoo-ha parade is done then comes the dress-up scene
which is so much like an even stupider version of Pretty Woman, I wanted to ram my head through the wall

me: she must have had that movie on repeat the whole time she was writing this
she name drops a bunch of what I assume are high end designers
apparently this impresses others of our gender
but I had no idea what she was talking about

H-Town: Yeah, she could've said she was wearing a dress from Flim Flam McGee and I wouldn't have given two shits
"ooh, the new fall designs from Barb Wirefence! Amazing!"
"heels from Ben Dover! YES!"
oh, and Ana goes to the party with balls in her cootch
Don't forget that part

me: which she STILL can't name

H-Town: Yeah, it took me a second to figure out what they were because I didn't read the first book "Balls? What are they talking about (reads further) OH. OH, THOSE BALLS."

me: it was exactly like the no underwear scene, it was endless pages of her acting like no one had ever done that before
*did that yesterday*

They head for the party surrounded by The Ghostbusters extra security because of Leila. Naturally, everyone is massively rich and georgous and every woman is swooning because Christian is the richest and gorgeousest of all.

H-Town: the party scene was stupid
it was just EL James describing a party she wants to go to
oooh, masquerade masks! CHAMPAGNE! OLD PEOPLE!
ice sculptures!

me: synchronized servers!

H-Town: stupid bullshit!
she puts the whole menu into the book.
I wondered if Christian had sex with it while demanding a steak?

me: there was not one thing on that menu I would have eaten. not one

H-Town: it was just a bunch of French words shoved together

me: RIGHT?
I was honestly not sure those were actual things

H-Town: fromage e ferchette oui eiffel tower

me: this line
"Mia and Grace are already in situ..."

H-Town: STAB

me: I wrote "shut your hole"

There is an auction of various super classy rich people things I could not be less interested in, one of which is a weekend stay in Aspen, Colorado at property owned by Christian. Ana, as ever, is surprised to learn that he owns property. HE OWNS EVERYTHING IN NORTH AMERICA YOU TWAT. HE IS PROBABLY ALSO AN OLYMPIC CLASS SKIER. Out of the blue and for no reason at all, she decides to bid $24,000 on a weekend getaway she could have for free any fucking time she wants. And wins. The item. She loses at life because Christian is going to straight up murder the shit out of her for it.

H-Town: And then at the end, she bought Aspen.

me: oh my god wtf was that?

H-Town: he makes $100k/hour, it's cool
he probably farts out that much money

me: no it's not cool
he gave her that money and HE WILL BE THE ONE WHO DECIDES HOW SHE SPENDS IT

H-Town: I foresee punishment INTERCOURSE coming soon

me: I know this sounds rapey, but she was asking for it
let's see, you don't want $24k, but your sociopathic boyfriend forces you to take it
do you a) quietly donate that money to a charity you believe in without mentioning it or
b) publicly give it away RIGHT IN FRONT OF HIM

H-Town: for his own damn house
she spends $24k ON A RETREAT TO CHRISTIAN'S OWN HOUSE

me: I'd be pissed too, just on principle, for her being such a fucking idiot

H-Town: and that's the end of two shit-tacular chapters.
What's been blown: Christian, a tube of red lipstick, and $24k.

me: my will to live, half an evening

H-Town: my summary: This book sucks so much that Dyson is considering filing a lawsuit.
boobs n shit, talk to you tomorrow

me: boobs to you as well

FINALLY.

Coming soon - the reviews of Fifty Shades Darker. For real this time. The hold up was due to the post office. As some of my older readers will recall, this is not the first time I've had issues with the U.S. Postal Service. A couple of weeks ago I finally found a used copy of the book for H-Town, and since I have left you all for so long without any new swears, I went with expedited shipping to get it to her. Which I paid extra for. Expedited shipping from USPS is advertised as taking 2-6 business days. So I was not particularly amused when I got an e-mail on Sunday night from H-Town saying she still didn't have the book I'd had shipped to her a full week prior to that. I checked the shipping confirmation and found that the "expedited" package was estimate to arrive on the 19th. The book was shipping from Georgia to Baltimore - I could have WALKED to Baltimore from Georgia faster than that. Unhappily, I relayed this information to H-Town: "I did [ship the book], but apparently when I said 'expedited shipping', the post office decided that meant 'on a mule'. It's in New Jersey, and expected to get to you, not even kidding, THURSDAY. WTF." She took it in stride: "Express Mule, when you absolutely positively need it to be there at some point in the next few months or so." Luckily for everyone, USPS is just as bad at estimating things as they are at shipping them (or geography for that matter - New Jersey isn't on the way to Maryland if you're coming from Georgia) and the book finally got to her yesterday. We discussed logistics over e-mail this afternoon and have decided to schedule IM chats, although, per H-Town "It's just easier to email back and forth about the book. Until they invent some sort of "online" "chat" or something crazy futuristic like that. Eagerly awaiting the "ding!" on your next email on my 70tb supercomputer iPhone Audi." You guys are going to love her.

Anywhore, while the whole "oh wait, you wanted us to actually send this book somewhere?" crap was going on, I managed to once again be a guest on the world's most brilliant podcast, Total Talk Nonsense. I called in for Episode 256 and chatted with the boys for half an hour or so about getting drunk by soaking gummy bears in alcohol and eating them, clearing up an assumption Scott made about just who it was I met at the airport in naught but a raincoat, a letter H-Town mailed to my office about boobs (which also contained an excellent drawing of several dinosaur strippers), the new Spider-Man movie, the student show from a couple weeks ago where I took all my clothes off in front of strangers, marketing and Bizzybiz, why I'd be a fucking terrible wife, my upcoming UK trip (Hey UK readers! I'm coming back over to visit my friends in Hertfordshire in September! Who's down for a tweet up? I won't even make you come to Hitchin!), NATO and the Olympics, and why you should always be VERY SPECIFIC when leaving someone a voicemail about the results of a mammogram. I show up at about the 39th minute, which I tell you because the vast majority of my new readers don't listen to the show and may not be ready or willing to sit through 40 minutes of two guys drinking and talking shit (though I do absolutely recommend it).

I will get the first two chapters of Fifty Shades Darker read tomorrow morning so that the fun can begin. For you, obviously. H-Town and I will be fucking miserable.

50 Shrieks of Rage

I read and review Fifty Shades of Grey so you don't have to.

This is the worst book I have ever read. This book....this book is the 2 Girls 1 Cup of books.

When we last saw Ana and Christian, she had just admitted to her virginity. Chapter 8 picks up in the middle of that scene. I can only assume the reason there is a chapter break there is to create drama in a scene which is not actually dramatic. Grey asks if she's ever even been kissed before that time he attacked her in the elevator and for the second time she claims she has (but only once or twice). I could have sworn she said she'd never been kissed, so I went back looking for it. The line that made me think that is on page 48: "For the first time in twenty-one years, I want to be kissed." I interpreted that as "I want to be kissed for the first time", seeing as the only other explanation for this sentence is that all the other times she's been kissed were entirely against her will and that's a lot of rape kissing to be just brushing under the rug like it doesn't matter.

To his credit, Christian is extremely upset to learn this about her. Unfortunately, his ability to be a reasonable and responsible adult ends right there. "Come," he says. "We're going to rectify that right now." Because clearly, all that needs to happen for her to be physically and emotionally prepared for the demands of being someone's full time submissive is a quick humping to rid her of that pesky virginity. YOU CANNOT BE FUCKING SERIOUS. Look, I'm not going to sit here and generalize that no one has ever come into a D/s relationship as a virgin or a virgin minus one and enjoyed it immediately. Everyone is different. But for most people that isn't how this works, and for very good reason. People can be seriously hurt both physically and emotionally if they walk into this type of thing blind. You need to know yourself very well if this is something you want to participate in. If you are a Dom, you want to make especially sure that this sub you're courting knows what to expect and genuinely wants to participate in it, because if they don't, and they freak out, and they run off and tell people you sexually tortured them, the consequences will be extremely serious. The Christian Grey that has been described to us so far would have helicoptered her ass back to Portland immediately and reminded her all the way that she signed a non disclosure agreement and needs to keep her mouth shut about his riding crops and oddly positioned sofa.

Luckily, the author of this book has no qualms about drastically shifting her characters' personalities from ones she's already established to suit whatever type of scene she wakes up feeling like writing that morning. And so we end up with Christian telling Ana he wants to make love to her, right now, even though mere pages earlier he made it crystal fucking clear that he doesn't do that: "I don't make love. I fuck...hard." You know, except for those times when she needs her readers to be as in love with Christian Grey as Ana is, in which case he will happily throw such unequivocal statements right out the fucking window and instead say things like "Please, Ana, spend the night with me." SAY WHAT? He doesn't spend the night with anyone and he certainly doesn't say please! Does not matter, you guys. ANA HAS SPECIAL POWERS AND UNPARALLELED BEAUTY AND HE HAS NO CHOICE BUT TO FALL IN LOVE WITH HER. THIS IS SO ROMANTIC OH MY GOD MY HEART IS ALL AFLUTTER.

But don't worry, it isn't just Christian who suddenly does a complete 180. The author has spent seven ENTIRE chapters developing the character of Ana Steele. She has never liked a boy (or a girl for that matter, unless you count Kate, but we are clearly not supposed to). She may or may not have ever kissed anyone, but even if she has she didn't like it. She's definitely never held hands with anyone. She's never had a sexual fantasy. In a few pages we are about to find out, though I'm betting you've guessed this already, that she has never ever masturbated. Not once in her entire life. James has jumped through hoops to try and prove to the reader that Anastasia Steele has spent 21 years being entirely asexual 100% of the time, up until she met Christian Grey. So it makes NO FUCKING SENSE WHATSOFUCKINGEVER for this line to be anywhere in this book: "Finally, after all this time, I'm going to do it" SURE NO PROBLEM, LET'S IGNORE 110 PAGES OF CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND SUDDENLY DECIDE FOR NO REASON AND WITHOUT EXPLANATION THAT THE ONLY REASON ANA IS A VIRGIN IS BECAUSE NO ONE EVER LIKED HER BEFORE AND IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH HER BEING COMPLETELY UNAWARE THAT SEX EXISTS. DO YOU EVEN READ BACK THROUGH YOUR OWN WORK? HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF AN OUTLINE? IS YOUR EDITOR IN A COMA? HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?

Can I just point out that I am this angry and the sex hasn't even started yet?

In the bedroom, we are treated to another round of describing Christian's otherworldly hotness and an excruciatingly detailed account of him removing his clothes. "He steps out of his Converse shoes and reaches down and takes his socks off individually." No shit. If he stepped out of his shoes he was obviously standing while doing this, how the fuck is he going to take his socks off at the same time, jump up like a fucking frog? Then Christian says "I assume you're not on the pill." Because the only reason to ever use condoms with a virtual fucking stranger is so no one gets pregnant. Every time I think I can't hate this book any more she throws in something as mindblowingly stupid as this. He starts touching her and pulling her clothes off. He pulls her hair out of a ponytail and mentions that he likes brunettes. Please note that the ONLY other detail we have about Ana's appearance is that her eyes are blue. It made me think of a brilliant piece from The Oatmeal that he wrote about why girls go fucking batshit over Twilight. Given that this whole thing began as Twilight fan fiction, it should be no surprise that it is equally applicable to this story (just substitute the correct names and put in "rich" wherever it says "vampire").

It is at this point in the story that I started taking more notes about how stupid this scene is than I could possibly hope to summarize here. I'll try and stick to the parts where I also shouted expletives loud enough to cause my roommate to repeatedly come in my room and ask if I was ok (I am not making that up).

• "...running his nose up the apex between my thighs. I feel him. There." Apex is a terribly unsexy word to use, and she's going to repeat the word "there", almost always italicized, several more times until I finally wrote this note: "STOP SAYING THERE OH MY FUCK. PICK A NOUN, ANY NOUN. PUSSY. VAGINA. SNATCH. ENVELOPE. TOASTER. I DON'T FUCKING CARE." Repeatedly saying "there" like she's astonished it's even possible for someone to touch her vagina makes me picture someone saying "Show me on the doll where the bad man touched you." Be a fucking adult, for fuck's sake.
• "'I can't wait to be inside you.' Holy shit. His words. He's so seductive." Oh Jesus, no.
• "Show me how you pleasure yourself." There is absolutely no one who didn't know she was going to say she never has. Not one person.
• "I am squirming with need."/"his tongue dips into my navel." Gross. You couldn't come up with less sexy phrases to describe having sex if you were told everything you write has to apply equally well to sex and a landfill.
• "You fit my hand perfectly, Anastasia." (regarding her breast) YOU SHOULD RUN AWAY AND GET MARRIED RIGHT NOW YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY MEANT TO BE TOGETHER BECAUSE SHE HAS THE RIGHT SIZE TITS.

At this point, Ana, the asexual virgin who has never touched her body except to wash it, comes for the first time, from nothing but nipple play. I write next to it, "No." Again, this could and probably has happened for some people. I couldn't find a solid statistic showing me what percentage of women can get off from nothing but nipple play. I saw estimates anywhere from 2-30%. Even at the high end of that range (which is probably very overblown since it came from online men's entertainment magazine askmen.com) this is substantially less than the majority. She's also bound to be extremely nervous, it being her first time, and she's never touched herself at all which means she's completely unaware of what's right for her body. Combining all these factors, I find the idea that she comes from nipple play in this situation highly improbable. This absurdity continues with Christian saying "You are very responsive." If that is what actually happened she's not "very responsive", she's a motherfucking grand prix car.

• "You're so deliciously wet." Well I'm glad someone is. I have never been less turned on in my life. I messaged StereoNinja in a panic that I might never feel sexual desire again. It's true, ask him.
• "He palms my clitoris" What, like a basketball? How big is your clitoris, Ana?
• "He kneels up and pulls a condom onto his considerable length." Again, considerable length is not a noun. USE YOUR BIG GIRL WORDS. Also, since we can assume she's never watched any porn, or been to a Chippendale's show, or seen another live penis in any context in her life before this, PRECISELY WHAT IS SHE COMPARING THIS TO? He can obviously see on her face she thinks he's huge because he says-
• "Don't worry...You expand, too." YOU DID NOT FUCKING JUST WRITE THIS SENTENCE. PLEASE KILL ME I AM READY TO DIE.
• "...at the entrance of my sex." This is not better. Go home and practice saying "pussy" in the mirror until you can write something even remotely arousing.
• "...as he rips through my virginity." Fucking Christ. I don't even know enough words to describe how horrifying this image is. I'll have to borrow her thesaurus when she's done humping it.

So he gets on top of her and fucks her, and she comes again, and I find this nearly as unlikely as I did the first time because I suspect very few women discover they are multi-orgasmic on their first go. But Ana does, probably because it's Christian who is SO TALENTED AT EVERYTHING EVER. She wants more, OBVIOUSLY, so he flips her over to fuck her from behind and this is when she realizes he hasn't taken his shirt off because now that he's shown off his dungeon she has to have a new thing to foreshadow about. I'm sure he's not hiding scars from all the beatings he used to get or anything like that. So that happens and it's really boring, and he sticks his thumb in her mouth which she thinks is "really wrong" and he says "I want you sore, baby" because he keeps calling her baby now all of a sudden and I yell "OF COURSE SHE WILL BE SORE. SHE'S A VIRGIN YOU TOOL." and the bartender comes in and checks to see if I'm ok again. And then mercifully that bullshit is FINALLY over. I find I am grateful to be done reading about sex and it scares the shit out of me. WHAT IS THIS BOOK DOING TO ME? I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE. (Later, when I finish the whole chapter, I will immediately go to my living room and grab the first volume of erotica I see, which happens to be Taboo: Forbidden Fantasies For Couples edited by Violet Blue, and read the first three stories just to make sure I still like sex. I do.)

Ana wakes up alone in Christian's bed. It's still dark out. She goes looking for him and finds him at his piano, expertly playing something really really sad. I write a fairly long note: "CHRISTIAN GREY: MASTER PIANIST. He is probably also secretly the Pope, the head of the IMF...no scratch that. He's Jesus. Sexy Jesus." Sexy Jesus and Ana discuss his exquisite piano playing for a while and then he decides she needs to go back to bed, so he stands up to take her there and his pants hang from his hips (4). Back in his room, the sheets are covered in what seems like an absurd amount of blood, but it's been a long time and I don't really remember what that should look like so I let it go. She tries to touch his chest and he freaks and puts a shirt on while she wonders if she's ever touched his torso (NO, you haven't, it would have been in your excruciatingly boring details from earlier). He climbs into bed with her (since he never sleeps with anyone) and spoons her to go to sleep (since someone used to sleeping alone would be comfortable sleeping right on top of another person). The chapter ends with this: "I can't help but feel a residual melancholy either from the music or his demeanor. Christian Grey has a sad side." DEEP DOWN INSIDE HE IS JUST A SAD SAD LITTLE BOY WHO ONLY WANTS TO BE LOVED.

I AM GOING TO STAB THIS BOOK UNTIL IT'S SO DEAD IT NEVER EXISTED.