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

I don't know what your aim is with this thread, but while absolutely no desire to read this book existed before, it exists now.

I hope you're proud of yourselves.

 

Yeah, I was in the middle of relatively respectable literature (Dumas) before I picked this up.

The joy of reading this novel is that it presumably includes sex scenes and I get to MST3K it.

I'm hoping Baraka_Guru will take off his editor hat and pick up his social commentary mic.

As the dumbest mofo in the thread, I'm looking forward to his deep thoughts on the story itself.

Everybody, feel free to chime in as we go along. I wanted this to generate some funny discussion.

 

i tried to read this a second time and was once again defeated by the appalling first page. i had the idea of joining you two fine gentlemen in your wade through this poop, but i just cant make myself do it. i am, however, enjoying this thread.

 

I just wanted you to know that while you're saving yourself from the pain of 50 Shades of Twilight, you are depriving TFP of much-needed humor.

There is no doubt that your keen observations on this smutty rice cake of a story would be just as spectacular as our heroine's vomit from Chapter 4.

 

i tried. i really did. but i do not know if i could match baraka's outburst about chapter one.
it's the funniest thing i have read in a long time.

 

And "hymen hunter" is my new favorite phrase!

 

Stand up, hook up, and don your Poise pads... we're going in!

Chapter 5:

As I had expected, Ana wakes up in bed--sans pants--in Grey’s suite at the hotel. There’s a special kind of creeper that takes the clothing off an unconscious drunken girl instead of just guiding her to a blanket-covered couch. Again with the creepy child references. Grey’s excuse for taking her to his hotel room instead of her house is that he didn’t want her soiling the leather of his car seat yet it’s been made pretty clear that he buys plastic tarps and puts down newspaper before every date to go along with the coveralls, cable ties and rape rope on top of the fact that his Blackwater henchman, Taylor, probably drives a blacked-out, up-armored Cadillac SUV lined with a numerous removable rubber mats for easy hooker disposal and clean-up.

So, Grey drops the bomb that he yanked off Vomitina’s soiled Levi’s and crawled into the sack with her last night. “We slept together… did we fuck?” “No, I prefer screaming... you were knocked out... not a lot of fun for me.” Not what they really said, but you get the jist. He stated that sleeping with a woman (singular) was novel and I can only assume that’s because he usually tells the call girls to leave after blowing a spectacular load on them (plural) and reminding them not to touch the watch. Note to Self: I really want Maroon 5 to do a song remix for the movie: “Moves Like Bateman.”

SIDEBAR: Anybody else think that our crazy runner Lish looks like Adam Levine? Maybe just a little? Funny, huh?

She brings up the whole cell phone tracking thing (without touching on his overbearing stalker tendencies) but Grey brushes it off. Suspension of disbelief, Ana... just roll with it; we can already drive an Abrams tank through this plot. He’s probably got a gas chromatograph for spectral analysis, too. Regardless of reality, it seems that our gruff hero is powerful, has many connections and a fully-loaded crimefighting lab somewhere.

Scaramanga describes Jose’s dirty date rape neck lick as “pressing his suit.” We can only assume that is the polite Ye Olde English way of saying “thrusting his broadsword into her velvet doublet.” I don’t know about other men in the audience, but I for one just try to go for the traditional lip-on-lip action first to test the waters when I’m blitzed. I don't know how we're supposed to feel about Jose or if we'll see him again but let's hope so.

I nearly shot iced tea out of my nostrils when Christian described himself as “a dark knight.” Oh crap! It all makes sense now: he’s a depraved Bruce Wayne. Totally clears thing up. Wayne Tower in Seattle. Cellphone tracking built into his utility belt buckle. Talking like an angry Christian Bale.

We are then informed about how his Blackwater Butler, Alfred-Taylor, spent the morning buying this ditzy waif an entire outfit, including new jeans and a t-shirt, those goddamn Converse All-Star shoes (style over function) and... fancy French lingerie? Odd combination. Whose taste are we catering to here with this fantasy? Plus, we have no idea how big this girl’s tits are or what her ass looks like since this mommy porn describes only things above the neck. I can only assume she’s built like a teenage boy, which would make sense given her personality. Anyway, our buddy Corporal Taylor probably spent most of the early 2000s dodging RPGs and capping mandresses on contract for the State Department and now he’s been relegated to making fancy panty runs for Grey like a gopher bitch prone to bouts of 'roid rage and toting some serious tribal sleeves. I'm guessing he would have rather grabbed her some proper Walk of Shame (TM) sweats and a 3-pack of Hanes granny panties. But I guess you’ll do anything for a stateside job after your own government basically blacklists your SSN. Also, putting a girl in pricey panties and cheap shoes is totally the wrong way to go about things. Daddy Warbucks should have gone all Pretty Woman and dolled her up in something totally ridiculous. Because, as he often says, I can. Ya know, something classy like a super slutty Versace dress, those bandage clothes off LeeLoo from The Fifth Element, or a furry costume.

Ana asks about what happened to Kate “I’d Hit It” Kavanagh and we’re lead to believe that she took Christian’s hunky brother back to Casa de Whitebread after a night of getting jiggy with it and rode him like a mechanical bull. I'm not a fan of how Ana is slut shaming Kate and her ugly day-after pajamas. Sex is fun. And every girl has ratty pajamas. It's a rule of being a XX. One day some nice guy--one that doesn't buy rope in 6 ft. lengths--is going to marry Kate and she’s going to wear those ugly pajamas all the time and it’ll be super endearing, kinda like how you know your wife is comfortable around you when she starts to pluck your ear hairs.

Heavy flirting ensues at Christian Bateman’s IHOP buffet breakfast table. Amidst what has to be an impressive spread designed to fatten up this boyish twig, Ana plays goo-goo faces with Christian and gets him to admit that he wants to bite her lip. Oh crap! Extravagant French panties instantly soaked, she says “Try me.” Christian then drops the bomb that he can’t touch her until he has written consent. Wut? Okay, I’ve only got a limited knowledge of contract law, but I pretty sure you can’t have a contract for criminal acts such as, uh, dunno, rape. It’s a conditional thing, right? You can’t have a contract that says “He can play with my boobs” because at any time Ana can basically say “Hey, I don’t like this anymore and now it’s sexual assault” and thus a crime.

I’m trying to imagine how this contract would look. Maybe my legal beagle buddy KirStang can help us all out.

Hmm… I wonder…

“Written consent” for sexual activities seems a little ridiculous. But whatever, it’s mysterious. I’m going to make up a contract for my current girlfriend when she gets back, see if she’ll sign it. Then I’ll put it in a document protector, tape it to my chest and proceed to rock her world right nasty.

Ana is then invited on a romantic The Bachelor-like date that involves a ride in the Bat-Copter from Portland to Seattle to learn the details of the aforementioned “Smack My Bitch Up” contract. I’m excited to see exactly how much detail this chopper ride will have since I’ve been on a few. I wonder if this scene will have another chance for Christian to rescue her... maybe like Arnold Schwarzenegger saving Jamie Lee Curtis near the end of True Lies.

On the way out of the hotel, the couple takes an elevator ride down. As expected, Christian’s clit-teasing “What is it about elevators?” line makes a reappearance as he proceeds to go into full on Michael-Douglas-in-Basic Instinct / Fatal Attraction action. With an utterance of “Oh, fuck the paperwork,” Scaramanaga-Wayne-Zoolander pins her against the wall with her hands above her head and jabs an insta-boner against her stomach. Oh, baby! Yeah, female readers everywhere involuntarily inhaled to push their breasts closer to the words on page 78. Ana says his action is “only just not painful” as he yanks her hair down to get her face up towards his for her very first tongue-on-tongue action. Swoon. Unless he's wearing MC Hammer pants, I’m guessing the Big Bite hotdog straining against his fly is pretty painful as well as kinda awkward (NSFW). Just a hypothesis, but I’m thinking most women are more into first kisses than first kisses with a hard cock surprise. Ladies, feel free to chime in here. Anyway, I’m sure Ana was flattered by the sudden appearance of the dark knight's shortsword. In fact, I know so because I snorted when she said her "very small inner goddess" was doing a victory dance. I can't wait to see what kind of antics we'll get from the inner goddess when she's getting plowed doggy style.

Wait... is that what she calls her vagina?

We’ll find out! Stay tuned.

Odds Grey has a black suit with a cape and yellow belt: 78%
Dinner reservations for Ana and Grey at Dorsia: Made by Paul Allen
Grey’s current outfit: Boner Surprise Michael Douglas Ken Doll
Wetness level of panties in female audience: damp to wet

 

Sorry...just had to say this.

VOID AGAINST PUBLIC POLICY! BAM!

Also, you need a notary public to witness the signatures.

 

I knew you were good for something.

 

9er...

true

 

I realize that nobody on TFP is actually reading any of this, but that’s fine… we all know how much I like to hear the sound of my own voice. That and Baraka_Guru—the one man that could have made this actually interesting—decided to pull out like maybe the Vietcong were going to overrun his embassy.

Pussy.​

Now… speaking of that… let’s get to the chopper!

Chapter 6:

Christian Bond drops Ana McThrobbin’-Crotch off at her duplex where Kate and Elliott are having post-sex coochie-coo time at the kitchen table. No info on status of ratty pajamas. I’m pretty sure most readers were hoping to get a recap of what those two did last night—god knows it probably involved a lot of grabbing and licking and sweaty slamming—instead of reading about a girl upchucking on some azaleas and creepy sex contracts.

The conversation between Kate and Ana about how she’s basically going on a fuck date tonight seems legit enough… if you’re a dude. But, hey, this is the sexually-liberated year of 2012 and dainty, college-age virgins are totally going to climb aboard a chopper to fly to an unfamiliar location with a near stranger to climb aboard some presumably perfect penis. I do like how Ana makes it sound like Kate was in the bathroom with her doing the play-by-play of supervising her as she murdered her eyebrows and shaved her legs and pits and presumably other areas. I’m not sure what the term “buffed” means but I can only imagine it involves scrubbing the shit out of yourself with a Brillo pad like Ethan Hawke in Gattaca. I think the closest dudes ever get to this is asking another dude to shave the Teen Wolf hair tails on the back of their neck because they don’t own a mirror and thus can’t see what they’re doing. Eh, maybe that’s just a military thing. After all this prep work, our heroine is set for her date… in black jeans and a t-shirt. I don’t know anything about lifestyles of the rich 'n famous, but I’m pretty sure she could have dug out something a more presentable for a ride in a million-dollar aircraft to a Deluxe Dream Date ™. Maybe it's just me, but it seems like she always dresses like she's about to go to the grocery store.

Our Latin creature of the night, Jose, apparently called her 7 times and left 3 voicemails. Excessive. I’ve never done anything scummy to a girl like lick her jaw when she doesn’t want it, but I have pissed them off. I think the Real Man ™ limit is two calls with two voicemails: initial voicemail to state your case, follow-up voicemail to reinforce the initial voicemail without sounding like a whiny bitch with... ya know... feelings.

Our bro Taylor is driving Grey’s black Audi SUV tonight. That’s not a bad gig. I could handle that for $200k a year. Sure, you’ve gotta deal with Grey’s Riddler routine and buy the random clueless drunk girl underwear when she chokeslams her liver on a Friday night, but the Audi Q7 seems like a sweet ride. Sure as hell beats wearing 5.11 pants, getting a left body tan and driving a battered white Nissan pickup with those dorky door graphics.

Christian is not only a sharp dresser with a Scrooge McDuck vault of gold coins but also an expert chopper pilot. He quickly whisks the two away on his company chopper. Again, Ana is talking about how she wants to lick his jaw, rub her crotch on it, etc. Are women really into faces like this? Talk about a shot to the old self-esteem. I might be able to pack on the muscle in the gym, but no amount of bench or squats is going to fix my goofy-ass face. Or penis. Oh well, we all can’t be superheroes. In the end, I should be glad that I have all my hair, can touch my toes and that my name isn’t Fremen. Still, I'll work on my Blue Steel, see if I can't make my girl orgasm by using solely my chin. I've got a weak jaw; this might be a lot of work.

Grey-Bond likes compliments. The author hints at this by making him into a civil creature immediately after he receives positive feedback about his flying, how magical the moments he provides are, how immaculate his various properties are, how incredibly good-looking his floating head is, etc.

We also learn that music soothes the savage rapist and that Christian is a tunes snob. Sure, he listens to Kings of Leon (I will never not associate their most popular song with herpes) but something tells me that if it wasn’t written by someone who’s been dead for 200+ years, he’s probably not feeling the funk as much. He's sophisticated. That's cool, I can dig that. I’m guessing between floggings and nipple clamp applications, Ana will have to listen to Schroeder tickle the ivories wearing only some tight leather undies, an open burgundy smoking jacket and a scowl of total concentration. This story would be a lot better if he was a vampire and was into playing the organ instead. I don’t know anything about organs (aside from the one attached to my groin-hey oh!), but I do know they sound absolutely badass. Like the voice of god. And by "god," I mean James Earl Jones or Morgan Freeman. God, I totally agree with whatever comedian said that Morgan Freeman could convince to kill my whole family and make me feel good about it.

The conclusion of this “moving along, moving along” chapter brings us to the non-disclosure agreement. Ana gets all cavalier and signs the document that states she will not reveal any of her activities with Mr. Grey to anybody. Uh-huh. Again, you can’t have a contract that covers situations that may become crimes. Whatever, let’s roll with it. Ana doesn’t care about the paperwork and states she’ll never tell anybody, not even her best girlfriend Kate. She has no clue what she’s getting into but she does know she seriously wants to get into Grey’s tighty-whiteys tonight and inhale his stout stormtrooper with her drooling Sarlacc. Yeah, that was a really, really bad Star Wars reference. No, I'm not going to apologize to anybody for it.

Anyway, Ana asks if they're going to make love and Grey corrects her: "Not yet... and I don't do that kind of thing anyway. "Make love." Pfft, I only fuck... hard. I mean like I'm going to use your cervix like Ike used Tina Turner's face. I'm going to whip you, beat you, give you sex that has an aftertaste. Girl, you don't even realize!" Female audience kinda wanted some consensual sex, but hey, different can be fun, too. Nothing too weird.

Well, we'll see. Something tells me this guy has a love dungeon that makes a Russian prison camp look like a Sandals resort.

Odds that Grey loved the movie Red Dragon: 99%
Likelihood that The Joker will foil their first fuck: 27%
Odds that The Joker will be played by Heath Ledger: 0%
Wetness level of the female audience’s panties: Wet, but just “Regular Type”
Music I was listening to while typing all this: Blue Swede's "Hooked on a Feeling"

 

i got that a few weeks ago..now you're the third person to think that.

i can see the similarities, but i bet i dont get laid as much as he does

 

Spoiler: It's because you're married, not necessarily because you don't look like a rock star.

...

Hah, that's fine. I just wanted to say something that had Vietcong! in it and you were the victim. Heh. 'Cong. Victor Charles.

I'd offer to send you a copy but that'd just be insulting to a man of your education and taste. "Debasement" is what Grey offers.

Pretty much my middle name.

It's got magic (the plot), it's got orcs (the characters), it's got swords (in his pants!). But I catch your drift.

Yeah, the closest I'll ever come to that is using it as improvised body armor at the range. Maybe.

If there was a God... he wouldn't have let this book happen. We are holy men and these are unholy times.

And not just because there are sparkly vampires out there.

/The Shadow Knows

 

I've been reading every word!! please dont stop

 

Really? I hope so. I did make a reference to your toy collection at the end of Chapter 6.

 

YES!! and it only gets bigger every month lol Im dying to see your review of the upcoming D/s contract as well

 

Wow, I'm glad you're reading this instead of this guy having to do so. You have now translated it into something I can read, and understand.

Your sacrifice is appreciated.

 

I am loving this so please don't stop, and a few more pics of you would be nice too
Perhaps you could dress like Mr Grey would for a fan pic for me, signed of course.
Actually I would love a TFP t-shirt, so where's the merchandise thread ?????