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About a year and a half ago, I started hearing rumblings amongst friends and coworkers about a HOT new book, Fifty Shades of Grey. Now these ladies were nearly quivering with madness when they exclaimed to me, “You HAVE to read this book! You just have to!” That right there is the most antagonistic set of words ever set in front of me.

I DO NOT LIKE TO BE TOLD what to do.

And what’s more, I don’t tend to follow the crowd, what ever the trend, I tend to buck it…I don’t watch any Housewives of any county, I don’t find Zumba exhilarating, I never thought Tom Cruise was yummy (but Channing Tatum is a different story), I never grew carrots on FarmVille or crushed candy…you get the picture.

So just on the fact that it was popular and all you saw on the beach all summer were women hunched over books with a necktie on the cover was enough for me to swear…

I wasn’t reading Fifty Shades of Grey.

Until Saturday. When I realized the library was closed until Monday and I was out of books to read…gasp! The horror.

Now a normal person would just upload an Ebook onto their iPad, but living with Mr. Cheapo for 16 years has rubbed off on me. I cannot fathom spending money on a book that I can get elsewhere, especially since it takes me an average of two days to read a book.

So, I borrowed Fifty Shades of Grey from a friend and set forth to on a quest to figure out what all the fuss was about. I sequestered myself in my bedroom with the book and a fresh set of batteries. When I emerged five days later, I only had one thought.

Oh My!

Or in the words of Ana Steele, Holy cow (or crap, shit, hell, etc., etc…..) For a woman so allegedly intelligent, how many times can she possibly utter one of those phrases in her head?

I seriously considered inventing a drinking game, but I would have been dead of alcohol poisoning by chapter 5. She couldn’t seem to utter a coherent, intelligent sentence in her head that didn’t include any of these words.

Yet, in her emails to Christian she would throw in words I needed to grab the dictionary for like verbose and envisaged. After spending five agonizing days between alternately looking up words and feeling my brain cells die slow painful deaths while reading, I’m pretty sure I want a refund on my time. And the dead brain cells.

Now before you Fifty Shades of Grey fanatics lynch me, let me explain a few things about why I didn’t like this book.

First off, it is not because I am a prude. I have ready many a steamy novel in my day and even watched some questionable movies. I am not shocked by those who choose to shake up their sex lives. Whatever people chose to do in their bedroom is not my business as long as nobody is getting hurt. Oh, ding, ding, ding….

Getting hurt.

This was one of the reasons I hated Fifty Shades of Grey.

There was a scene that made me see red…one that was akin to a domestic violence situation. But it was “okay” because she agreed to it?

Nope, sorry…never okay to beat another person. And it is certainly not okay to excuse him because he is rich and handsome. And anyone who goes along with it for those reasons is, in my book, a moron. (Aka. Anastasia Steele.)

That out of the way, let me tell you why this book had me laughing my butt off and rolling my eyes for 514 pages. I am sure I would have been black and blue if I belonged to Christian Grey but hey, here’s the thing…I’d never “belong” to anyone. I have a brain in my head and NOBODY tells me what to do. My hubby would lose an appendage if he dared to try. In fact, I gave him a nosebleed once when he disagreed with me.

The Reason for All My Eye Rolls…

My problem with that simpering twit, Ana, is that she had this rich boyfriend, but she was too good to accept gifts from him because it made her feel like a (gasp) prostitute. Guess what honey? If the guy “owns” you, that’s exactly what you are. Look the definition up in the dictionary when you’re searching for synonyms for “wow”.

But yet, she like to think that she’s in charge of herself and has some control. She would try to exercise her control by arguing about the STUPIDEST things. Okay, so your boyfriend wants you to eat. Hello, that’s a NORMAL request! If a guy wants you to eat in front of him, Eat!!! Make him wonder where you put it all. If he tells you you must have your hair up at all times or can’t look at him, THEN you tell him off.

But, no. Ana lays down and lets him boss her around about those things and then has the nerve to think, he’s bossy. No duh! Did you read the contract? Or were you too busy with your breath hitching?

What does that even mean?

It makes me feel like she’s having an asthma attack and needs a puff of the inhaler. Is that a common saying that I just missed? Maybe it’s British.

That’s another thing. The author is British and she’s setting the scene in Washington state. Which is fine if you can get the language and jargon right! In the good old US of A, we don’t call backpacks rucksacks, we don’t wear “pinafores” and we don’t talk on our “mobiles”. Christian sounds like fricken Agatha Christie. What red-blooded American guy says “it’s a lovely day” or “for pity’s sake”?? None I know unless he’s being sarcastic. I’ve known my husband for 21 years and never heard either him or his friends utter “for pity’s sake”.

Maybe if this book hadn’t been hyped to the moon and back, I would have enjoyed it more. But picking it up, I was expecting not only a book that would make me not only ravage my poor unsuspecting hubby, but be an awe inspiring piece of literature worthy of a Noble Peace prize.

Instead, I found myself trudging through a cringe-worthy, detailed description of a sick and twisted individual with mommy issues and the air headed fool who thinks she can change him. The fact that this is a best seller not only makes me physically ill, but has me questioning womankind.

I read reviews from readers who were literally (haha…that’s a pun) in love with Mr. Grey and would have killed to be Ana. This is the kind of man they want? This is the type of woman they can relate to?

E.L. James is a billionaire household name because millions of neglected women got bored of their washer’s spin cycle and that is fifty shades of crazy.

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