Fifty Shades of Choad: 9er and Baraka do chick lit crit

Yeah, but I put the Project in TFP almost entirely by myself.

*drool, limp hand chest thump, fart, 'tard battle cry*

 

How do you think I know he's underestimating?

 

You actually know you're a pretty big tool, but you're a WAY bigger tool than you think you are.

 

So, effectively, while I think I'm a planetary-sized tool, you seem to think I'm more galactic. Got it.

Hey, is this the point where I post pictures of my tool?

 

Sure. I could use a laugh until Plan9 writes his next review.

 

I guess this isnt going to get finished

 

I think that Plan9 is currently ... um ... "unclogging toilets" somewhere.

 

When you have to clear the pipes... you clear the pipes.

 

Was it really that bad? In that case I will wait patiently for Plan9 to finish.

 

Excuse me? Have you learned nothing from my worthless contributions here since June 2007?

The novel is on my desk and the review will resume shortly. I gotta stretch, reread this thread.

It's not something you can just pick up and fall into, no, there's pre-game drinking to be done.

 

Well, I'm pretty friggin' sorry, so it'll be easy for me to sleaze my way back into this cesspit, throbbing cock of good humor in hand.

Do feel free to chime in with any comments you have on the major parts of the book as I progress, though. You're a smartypants.

 

from what I heard "taken" is used very lightly here.

 

Chapter 10 - Part 1​

That’s right, everybody... I’m like Heinz 57 in a glass bottle: worth the wait. In case anybody was actually wondering why I decided to take a month off from this most-necessary literary venture, it’s because I left the holy manuscript in my home office while I was off at work playing portable toilet baron. I travel light and mommy smut just didn’t take priority over extra underwear. I did manage to amuse myself with some extra-shitty James Patterson mass production pieces and it nearly inspired me to do a book review of You’ve Been Warned. Not as much smut as 50 Shades but twice as stupid.

It's 10:44 AM and I'm drinking a beer while writing this.​

Chapter 10: I've Been Hurt Before (But It's Okay, I Liked It)

Let me just say that I was incredibly pleased with how this chapter opens: Grey’s presumably massive cervix-slammer popping out of Ana’s recently devirginized hot pocket like your thumb from the corner of your closed mouth. Stay classy, E.L. “Gonzo Porn” James. This scene takes me back to my first girlfriend and those delicious teenage heart attack moments of “Oh, shit! Your father is coming down the stairs and I’m balls deep! Do I pull out ‘n hide or do I try to finish?”

As a side rant, I know nearly everybody here has been in that kinda situation. It’s a rite of passage. I’m not a parent, but it seems like once you have kids you develop this type of unconscious spider sense that can detect when your teenager is joined at the crotch with someone else… and it causes you to seek out the couple to either ask a silly question, like “Who wants soup and sandwiches?!” or to do something completely random in the next room like crank out a few sets on the trusty ThighMaster while singing along to an old Boston cassette tape. Teenagers, desperate to fuck in any and all ways possible, do things like climb on the living room couch under a heavy blanket and pretend to watch a movie (I endured entire interesting-but-totally-unwanted conversations with her father about firearms and military service while buried inside his daughter this way, super awkward) or attempt to ninja it up by fucking mostly-clothed doggy style on the floor in the bedroom (no creaking, nearly instant recovery). Protip: If your teenage daughter normally wears jeans 24/7 but starts wearing a lot of skirts and dresses at home… it’s because her new boyfriend is assiduously jousting her backside with The Thing That Couldn’t Die while you’re balancing your checkbook and sipping that covert double bourbon after work.

Sure, Grey’s a Republican billionaire bondage freak that ran a barefoot marathon in 2:27:13, but why is he so excited to present a freshly-fucked stranger to his mother? Must be a weird conservative breeding thing: he's giddy to prove he's hetero. He later mentions that his mother thought he was gay for the longest time. Probably due to his metro grooming habits that make Anderson Cooper look like a slovenly lumberjack and the fact that he hasn't seen Die Hard or Predator, two crucial films that all heterosexual males must watch if discovered while channel surfing.

Ana, released from the knot used to secure her for the previous chapter's fuck, marvels at how the marks from the raised pattern still remain. Yes, apparently his pricey neckwear is made from woven adamantium… it leaves a pattern on her wrists that doesn’t dissipate immediately after capillary refill. That’s a helluva ascot, bro. None of my ties are so textured.

Totally caught off guard and freaking out about what clothes to wear for this ambush meeting, our girl proves once again that she’s got a body like Speed_Gibson and slides into one of Grey’s boxer briefs. I don’t know about the rest of the guys on the board, but my girlfriend can’t fit into my underwear. She’s got two things I don’t: hips and ass. Girlfriends wear our tops, not our bottoms. Maybe I've been aged out, though. Maybe androgynous is the new it thing. Ana recovers the rest of her outfit from the previous day and emerges to meet Grey's mother. This could be good.

But it isn't. The description of Grey’s mother leaves a lot to be desired. I was expecting this. I mean, I was totally expecting some type of plot twist like… dunno… she’s an angry drill sergeant doing a Sunday morning footlocker inspection and really hoping to find an errant jelly doughnut. The book really could use a change-up at this point (Plot Drivin' 101) and yet we get nothing. Not even a wayward pastry. Total blue balls. Grey's mother is attractive, pleasant... and completely forgettable. It's like the author ended the previous chapter with a "LOOK OUT, HE'S GOT A GUN!" and started the next chapter with "OH, IT'S OKAY, WE'RE AT A TARGET RANGE." It's straight outta the The Naked Gun playbook. Not sure what I supposed to learn about his mom here. She's a doctor of some sort, she's immaculate and opulent and all that, yadda yadda yadda. "Hi, I'm Grace. Oh, gotta go. It was nice to meet you, Ana. What a relief you're a girl. I sure am glad my son's fucking you and not some eurotrash twink in a belly shirt named Yanni."

The long lost Latin vampire, our buddy Jose, calls in the middle of this Mother-and-Son-Look-See-I'm-Not-A-Fag! moment. Jose basically gets cut off but I'm pretty sure that he'll show up in the next chapter or two after Ana returns to Kate's house to do something banal like laundry or go over a sex contract that graphically depicts how she'll be defiled.

Wait, here's our plot twist: We learn that Grey's stoic Blackwater minion, Taylor, lives in the penthouse-warehouse with Mr. Grey. He keeps him in a coffin-sized Tupperware container in one of his many closets. Part Jason Voorhees and part Jehovah's Witness, Taylor has the ability to magically appear behind people when they least expect it. Creepy. Again, character development basically leaves us all free to imagine that half the characters in this book are Martians.

Grey receives a phone call about his operation in Darfur. Yet another confusing starcluster launched in this story. Injecting random things like this is supposed to add to the power and mystery but just derails the twisted love yarn.

Our hero hands off an envelope containing the DOM/sub sex contract to Ana so she can review it and do any necessary jargon research ("What's a ball gag?") before signing it. Christian is really eager for this to happen. Now, this scene would be pretty straightforward except for one small problem: Ana tells him that she doesn't own a computer. *tires screech, car crash, broken glass noise, napalm explosion* Whut? It's 2012. So what if a 10-year-old today can access the fucking Library of Congress from their Dora the Explorer smartphone? I can totally believe that Kate is a middle class white college student in the Northwest and doesn't own a $500 Dell laptop. Virginity is believable. Not owning a computer? Get the fuck outta here. Why this kind of "she has nothing, she knows nothing" bullshit is stuffed into the lead character is beyond me. Can any woman on here relate to Ana? I hope not, since you're probably sitting at your own computer reading this right now. Whatever. Fuckin' retarded.

As they head out, Ana notices that Grey is dressed somewhere between Grease and Right Said Fred. Even though he doesn't look like Paul Ryan anymore, Ana secretly wishes she had a tenth of his poise, or could at least handle the relentless heckling of Joe Biden in a similar fashion. He is a man-god and, god, is he so ridiculously good-looking.

On the way out, our favorite baby-killing automaton, Taylor, wishes them a safe trip. Ana thinks that maybe Taylor pities her, that maybe he feels bad that Mr. Grey is using her like a pocket pussy with extraneous limbs that must be secured before takeoff like the flimsy tray table you get in economy class. Spoiler: It isn't pity, Ana... Taylor is just trying to figure out if you're a ladyboy or not.

Chapter 10 - Part 1​

 

I have SO missed this...but for the record...I wear Daves boxers

 

Chapter 10 - Part 2​

Another elevator ride gives Grey an opportunity to threaten to fuck Ana if she doesn't stop chewing on her goddamn lip. He'll do her right here, right now in the elevator and he doesn't care who sees! But then he doesn't. On the way to the garage floor, Ana mentions the need to spill the beans to her girlfriend about her recent fuck-fuck action.

Grey mentions that Kate would "have his balls" if she knew what he had planned for Ana after she signs the bloody sex contract. Vaguely amusing that our boy Zeus is at all concerned about the opinions of mere mortals that have to eat Ramen for two months to afford their precious iPhone 5 let alone take on a guy that takes random skanks out on dates in a fucking helicopter. The whole class warfare thing that Tilted Politics goes on and on about is in full swing here in this novel: rich people swoop down from their ivory roosts to fuck cute peasant girls. It's not just about sticking it to the little guy with dollar signs and caste-reinforcing laws, no, it's about doing his women straight-up nasty, too.

They step out of the elevator and head to Grey's vehicle spread. Ana describes Grey's Audi R8 Spyder as a car that should have a leggy blonde wearing nothing but a sash draped across the hood. Huh? Is that how women think about cars? "That's hot, it'd be even hotter with a naked girl on it!" Or is it just more self-deprecation / inadequacy stuff? I mean, I'm rather partial to the Dodge Challenger SRT-8 but I can't say I've ever once envisioned one with Melisa Mendiny face-down-ass-up on the hood. Oh, I'm such a nerd. I'm always ogling the hardware in "girls with ___" pictures. Maybe I've got Low T.

Christian's mission to fatten up his Shia LeBouf-shaped single serving lover continues at a restaurant called Cuisine Sauvage, which totally sounds like something that Bret Easton Ellis made up. Ana desperately wants a Diet Coke and a Pop-Tart but is instead issued several glasses of white wine and some fancy, you-just-try-to-pronounce-it French fare for lunch. We have no sense of time thanks to E.L. James constantly skipping over pointless details like specifically when and where this teenage-wet-dream-with-daddy-issues is taking place. Hey, I'm not asking for a Dale Brown timestamp here, but it would be nice to know if the sun is up or not.

Ana brings up the vanilla sex they've shared over the last couple days and Grey muses about how new and different it is for him. "No toys, no add-ons." Add-ons? You mean like an Asian midget in a clown costume holding a rusty bucket? Grey has never had vanilla sex, never slept in his bed with a woman, never let one into his helicopter-that-is-referred-to-using-the-phonetic-alphabet-for-no-reason. No, not one of the previous 15 girls he's run through with his most favorite body part has had the honor of listening to him snore and rip farts next to them on the California Kong Tempurpedic. Ana, you're changing this man. He's like an old Soviet tank: cold and hard on the outside, but fatally vulnerable on the inside. All you have to do is get to his feelings and he'll be begging for a pegging. Or something.

Over lunch/dinner ("Let's do the time warp!") Christian reveals that he played the part of a submissive male concubine to an older woman (one of his mother's friends) for six years starting at age 15. It is implied that he was sexually abused and brutally beaten, but kinda okay with it since boys are all perverts with perma-pricks. He also mentions that he hasn't had a normal relationship because his introduction to sex was so fucked up that he couldn't even seal the deal on an idealistic non-profit-job chick off OkCupid. For serious: his cougar mistress was all he needed until they parted ways. They're still friends--not fuckbuddies anymore--and nobody, including his mother, knows about the lengthy relationship. For this experience, Christian is now ALPHA AS FUCK (TM) and knows all about the DOM/sub thing, wanting to place Ana into the sub part, obviously. Christian tells her that it's important she make a decision about the contract and that, if she does, it's essentially going to come down to him wanting to row-sham-bow on her and her totally wanting him to do it. Readers that aren't into the whole DOM/sub thing might have started giggling at the utter ridiculousness of this scene; I know I did. This isn't intriguing; in the real world it's the part of the date where you decide you want someone with less baggage. Like the herpetologist chick I fucked in college, a night of good sex can't compensate for being a basket case.

After the restaurant, they drive from Olympia to Vancouver without conversation and finally reach Kate's duplex. It's now 1700ish on Sunday (?) and they have a touching hand-kiss goodbye, making plans to meet up on Wednesday. Kate informs him that she's wearing his underwear before scampering off into the house. Teehee! ...what the fuck, over?

Kate corners Ana and immediately starts the Cosmopolitan Sex Inquisition. "So, did he make you come? And how big is the helmet on his cock, eh? Does it make you pop like a fresh jar of Smucker's? Oooo, I just bet it does, girl!" Kate and Ana go back and forth with the author interjecting with various Looney Tunes-style head machinery. It works on Family Guy... not so much in books. Kate is obviously smitten with Elliott--which is good since they're the two most interesting characters in this novel--and the two ladies talk about how sore they are from the hot-hot weekend sex. Seems legit. I can totally see two girlfriends getting together and talking about how blown out they are after a night with their new lovers. "Lawd Almighty, Cleetus fucked me so good I'll be balled up like Stephen Hawking for a week!" As a guy, I'm always curious as to how normal, classy women handle situations that are typically titled as men-being-men.

Ana is going through her mail and discovers two potential internship opportunities. Kate mentions something about Ana's GPA opening doors for her. I can't be the only middle class white guy to have laughed at that old knee-slapper. I graduated top turd with double honors from a major university and my degree might as well read Underwater Basket Weaving for all the good it has done me. Just having a degree is all that matters in my fields, it seems. Kate doesn't need a GPA because her daddy knows somebody that knows somebody that'll keep her in six figures for life. That and she'll be spending two weeks in Barbados after graduation. That's better, white people, that's better.

Jose has been calling every 37 minutes for the last 48 hours and Ana is finally home to talk to him. Jose, jacked up on Jolt! cola and sweaty from masturbation, apologizes for licking her neck outside the bar when he was shitfaced and wants to know if she's now with Grey ("You know, a relationship... since everybody on FaceySpace now knows you two fucked all weekend."), if it's because of his vast riches-to-get-bitches or if it's just because Jose is the one minority in this vampire-fanfic-with-no-vampires and thus relegated to being the universal whipping boy. Note: Jose is a Latino so he says things like "Dios mio!" If Jose was a Tyrone, he'd probably bust out with a "Oh, snap!" or "That shit is whack!" Can't People of Color (TM) just talk like everybody else in a book like they often do in real life? I swear, I've run into more white people that talk like other race stereotypes than I have of actual stereotypes showing themselves. Fuckin' crackers at it again... puttin' a brother down with their married white woman porn! But I digress.

Before Kate heads off to bed, she gives Ana a hug and says that there's something ___ about Christian. The way it's framed makes me think that our best girlfriend has engaged in a little deep dickin' with this dude and was forced to sign a similar non-disclosure agreement. Dunno, we'll find out. I wouldn't be surprised if she did, though.

Ana is digesting the last two days as well as some of the delicious lasagna that she learned how to make in all the free time she has since she doesn't own a personal computer. She's flopped on her bed and wondering where things are going. The chapter ends with her tearing open the envelope containing the DOM/sub contract. Dun dun dun!

Slice of TFPers that have been caught fucking as teenagers: 42%
Odds Taylor is a Weyland-Yutani "artificial person" similar to Lance Henriksen: 29%
Amount of 1.75L bottles of Jasper Juice it's going to take for me to finish this novel: 5.38
Sex scenes my current girlfriend read in this book before dropping it on the floor: 1.6
Wetness level of the female audience’s panties: Savannah, Georgia

Chapter 10 - Part 2​

 

I had a coffee spitting moment at the Right Said Fred comment. Thanks for making me laugh Plan9 x