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50 Shades of Snark: My take on 50 Shades of Grey

July 30, 2012 1 comment

So let’s discuss the big Grey elephant in the room shall we? Fifty Shades of Grey, a book by British author E.L. James (no relation to the E.L. Fudge Keebler Elves) has taken the horny world by storm. The book trilogy took just eleven weeks to pass the one million paperback marker, breaking the record previously set by Dan Brown’s, The Da Vinci Code*. The sales are still skyrocketing and there is no telling how many copies will be sold by the end of this year. It is safe to say that E.L. has established herself as a household name.

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Her smile says “I have waaaay more money than you could ever imagine”

My pals told me they had only heard about the book while at a bachelorette party from all of the ladies there.  They were raving about it, and sparked my friends’ curiosity enough to get them to read it as well.  I was doubtful about buying them. I hadn’t really gotten into any books since had I re-read the Tolkien series. After that, my attempts at starting other books usually resulted in me staring at the Tolkien books while Sinead O’Connor’s Nothing Compares to You, played in my head (a single tear streaming down my face.)

I bought the first book.  I bought it on my Kindle so if I was ever in public reading I could be “sneaky” about it, and people would probably assume I was reading the complete works of Dickens…Instead of something to do with the work of dick-ing. Boom!  Am I butter? Because I am on a roll with this wordplay.

Anyway…

For anyone who hasn’t read the 50 series, here is a brief recap of what sums up the plot of all three books:

“Oh I’m so bookish, virginal and independent I’m not even thinking about men. Wait, who is that?”

It’s only been 2 minutes but I’m hopelessly in love with you

“How can you love me? You’re rich and handsome and I’m bookish, and a poorly written every-woman character?”

“We can’t be together because of [conflict]” 

Danger

Weird Sex
More danger

More weird sex

Cliffhanger ending

Ka-blam, you’ve just read Fifty Shades.

So I will say as books go, Fifty Shades is not that good. The plot is weak, and Ihave not read anything in the “steamy novel” genre so I have nothing to compare the sex scenes too, but I hear in terms of the smut world they are not well written either. The characters also don’t have enough grit for them to be truly relatable. I also think that James is giving Jane Austen a shameless nod by having the characters sometimes speak to each other like they are Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice. They address each other all like “Mr. Grey” “Ms. Steele,” “Mrs.Dillhole” instead of using their first names like normal twenty-somethings. James’ literary nod must make Jane Austen roll over in grave to be even alluded to in a bodice-ripping, grocery store paperback. Or maybe, like the rest of the world, she’s touching off to 50 Shades. I’m going to hell for that comment. I’m sorry Jane.

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Forgive me.

The kicker of all this is: I.Kept.Reading. Why? I didn’t really know. All I knew is that I hated myself for it but, like a moth to the porn flame I was into books two and three of the trilogy. The massive sales of the books also points out to me that I was not the sole victim in the phenomenon.  It took me a long time to figure out why it was so successful, and then I realized it. Twilight.

Fifty Shades had originally been written as fan fiction for Stephenie Meyer’s Twilight series. The 50 books are a thinly veiled copy of the also-fantastically popular vampire series. The  significant difference between the two sets of books is the sex. And that’s when it hit me. In Meyers’ books the two main characters Edward and Bella were virgins until they were married and didn’t go all the way until well into the series. I remember when I was reading Twilight (Yes I know, I read those too and I hate me too) I got to a point where I was like JUST DO IT. They danced around the sex until they were married, and to add insult to injury it was really boring when they finally humped.

And this is where our pal E.L. comes in. She capitalized off of writing scenes that satiated the collectives’ frustration from Meyers’ lack of gettin’ down.E.L. James wrote the characters to be nearly identical to call into mind the Twilight series when you’re reading, and that unconsciously makes you want to continue on through the whole terrible series. Kind of like letting you relive the Twilight series in a sense, except this time there are riding crops involved. Screw you Stephenie Meyers, now look what you’ve unleashed.

Now that I solved the riddle of the Smut Sphinx, I hear daily some social ramifications of the 50 series. People are speculating that there might be a slight Grey Baby boom as a result of young couples reading this book. I think that’s kind of sad, but maybe it’s good that it is opening people’s minds to new ways of expressing themselves? You know those Grey babies are probably going to be a little messed up. I picture them as Ed Hardy wearing douches that scream “YOLO!” as they try and do amateur parkour.

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Kill it. Kill it with fire.

Also apparently some middle aged and older couples are reigniting the passion in their marriages by using the book as a beginner’s guide of BDSM. To that I say, I guess great? You know, older folks doin’ it, getting down, gettin’ biz-zay, good for them…something, something I just barfed.

I will say this, good for E.L. James for thinking of writing something the world can easily grasp onto. That was genius on her part. I’m sure she’s laughing her British ass off all the way to the bank whenever snarky critics talk about her series. However, I wouldn’t recommend Fifty Shades. Find something else, anything else. As it is there is already going to be a 50 Shades movie and that is bad enough. But will I see it?

Yes. God I hate me.

*Fact Source: UK Daily

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Tell Tail Signs of the Apocalpyse

July 23, 2012 1 comment

So there is a lot of hub-bub over this year being 2012, and the predictions of the End of the World. Most notably, the Ancient Mayan calendar explicitly dictates that the end of the world will come on December 21, 2012. The calendar moves in a mathematically linear format that coincide with the movement of the stars; ticking the ages by until it reaches this year.

Apocalypse fanatics now have a calendar to clench onto to tout their crazy, and this year is ripe for more weirdos to come out of the woodwork.  Remember that dude Harry Camping, the self- taught internet and radio preacher, who predicted that the world would end on May 21, 2011? Yes, there will be more of those.  Which really is just comedy writing itself.

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Sorry about that Har-bear, but at least you got to experience seeing The Avengers. Right?

I will say I am a complete skeptic on this whole issue.  I don’t think that the annihilation of the entire human race will come in one Michael Bay-esqe explosion.  I thoroughly am enjoying scoffing at people holding signs on the side walk screaming “Repent.”

 

 

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Look at this dillhole, probably ruining peoples’ days on their quiet way to Starbucks.

 I do, however, realize everything has a beginning and  an end, I just think it will be more organic and gradual than the fantastical musings of crazy people on the internet.

I am sure.

Or I was until I saw this.  I stumbled across this company and its goods recently, and its been haunting me ever since.

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What.The.Fuck.

The company Kigu creates tails for people to wear casually under “Smart sports jackets” out in everyday waking life. (You can check out the rest of their stuff at  www.kigu.co.uk but I will judge you for it) Now when I first encountered this I was mortified that it may be an American company, but no this organization is English, so this one is on you, United Kingdom.  Wearing tails is not a new thing. Children (at Halloween) and the Japanese rock them daily  (no disrespect but I do not understand their culture) . Surely,  however it must be a sign of the end of ages when this kind of couture is commonplace??!?

Here is the description for the “Fox Tail.”

The Fox Tail by TellTails is luxuriously bushy and soft to the touch. Ideal for distinguished gents and ladies alike, it really does look smashing under a smart jacket. Having said that, stick it on with a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and you’ll look pretty dapper too! It attaches to the body with a comfortable, elasticated waistband.

 It’s the end of the God damned world people.

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Admittedly this one is kind of fun, and I hate myself for writing that.

So I leave you all to absorb this realization.  I’ve got to work on a bucket list, and see if I can somehow manage to seduce my childhood crush Devon Sawa between now and December 21st.  Lunch sounds good too, I have got to stand up from my desk and office chair, my dinosaur tail is chaffing like crazy.

The Dead Rabbit Story

July 9, 2012 1 comment

Sometimes there are stories that stick with you forever. They seep in through your pores changing everything they encounter profoundly on their way to your darkest depth. I was told one such story at a wedding that deserves to be shared. It’s about a dead rabbit. (Stick with me on this one)

In June of 2010, I went to an amazing wedding in Mexico. I was there with my great friend Sabrina as her plus one (not in that way you pervs.) The resort was beautiful and also it was all-inclusive with swim-up bars so there was no lacking for shenanigans to be had. I didn’t really know anyone besides Sabrina, but the bride and groom’s families were awesome and super welcoming so I never felt like a stranger.  The actual ceremony was on the beach, and I cried in a way that you would make you assume I knew everyone well. I didn’t, but for some reason if I see a groom tear up I will full on ugly-face cry at anyone’s nuptials.

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During the reception the maid of honor gave the obligatory speech toasting the new couple. Her speech was touching and very serious. I tried my best to look the part of the serious guest. And I really did appreciate being privy to the intimate family moment. I’ll say this however; I’m not good at heavy stuff. In fact, I can only take it in small doses and even then I’m fighting back a wild urge to change the mood with some choice dick jokes. I digress because after that the bride’s uncle Ted stood up and told us this little nugget of a story:

Uncle Ted (who is also Scottish making the story more hilarious with his accent) began by telling us that his story is about his neighbor who is a doctor. This neighbor, who I will call Dr. N[eighbor], was sitting on his porch after work relaxing when his golden retriever came running up to him with a white rabbit in his mouth, and it was dead. He recognized it immediately as his neighbor’s pet rabbit Mr.Fluffy. The neighboring family that lived next door to him had even built an entire hutch in their back yard for Mr. Fluffy to live in, and Dr. N knew he was SOL at the moment.

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He gathered Mr. Fluffy from his dog and took it to his shed. From there Dr. N brushed out his fur and stitched him up where he had holes. (Gross) Dutifully making him look presentable. Then instead of telling his neighbor what had happened Dr. N snuck onto his neighbor’s property and stuck Mr. Fluffy back in his rabbit hutch without a word.

A few weeks past, and Uncle Ted told us that Dr. N knew he was in the clear. That’s why he accepted an invitation to have drinks with the couple next door, formerly Mr.Fluffy’s family. While they were drinking the neighbor said that some weird things had been happening. Dr. N asked him, as casually as he could manage what “weird things” were going on his neighbor told him that a few weeks earlier their pet rabbit had died.

They had the talk with their kids about how their pet had gone to heaven and then they buried him.

The following day they had found Mr.Fluffy BACK IN HIS CAGE.

All cleaned up.

The day after they had the “Mr. Fluffy went to Jesus” talk with the kiddos, and then buried him in the backyard.

The dog had dug up an already dead rabbit and Dr. N had unwittingly gone all Pet Cemetery on the poor bastard’s body before smuggling it back onto his neighbors’ property and chucking it back into its hutch.

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Friends, I laughed for the rest of the time I was in Mexico about this. Sabrina and I made up added  on endings about how the neighbors decided in order to keep Mr. Fluffy from coming back they would put tiny cement shoes on him and chuck him into the nearest lake.

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I don’t know if  this recollection of Uncle Ted’s story will ever do it justice, but I did ask him the day after the wedding:

“Ted did the Doctor ever tell his neighbor about how it was him that put Mr. Fluffy  back in the hutch?”

“No, no he never did.”

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