The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

I read 50 Shades of Grey (some quotes here), and I didn’t enjoy it. About 500 pages of stuff I didn’t enjoy. However, I will give the book credit where it is due – I had a lot of fun making fun of the book. My friend Airplanes and I read the book for book club, and last night we met and talked about it. I decided I wanted to write my own mini-version of 50 Shades for my blog. It will be a four part series. If you don’t like incredibly stupid things, you probably aren’t a regular reader of my blog … if you do, keep on keeping on!

Like I said above, I really enjoyed making fun of this book. When I would make fun of it, I would usually say things like, “and then we went to bone-town USA, population sex, and it was rad.” So, you’re in for that kind of language. Really, this is just an excuse for me to bash the book some more, and because I find it funny to say things like “population sex.” Here we go …

Two Shades of Vague

I

My name is Olivia Gasm, and God do I ever hate my hips! My roommate, Susanna Strabismus, is knocking on the bathroom door.

“Hurry up Olivia, I’m gorgeous and you need to go soon!” Ugh!, Susanna is so gorgeous! I call her ‘slip and slide,’ because men can hardly stand when they’re near her. Also, she always looks like she’s only partly paying attention to them, which totes mcgotes works for her.

“I’m moving!, I’m moving!,” I say, and then proceed to take ten more minutes. I just can’t get my hair right. Susanna should expect that I would be taking long – I’m getting dressed up nicely for her! Susanna is the editor of our college’s newspaper. She has managed to score an interview with Shimper Vague, the enigmatic owner of Canada. He’s really powerful and rich and that doesn’t matter to me (but it does).

The thing is, Susanna can’t go interview Mr. Vague – something has come up. Her excuse sounds fairly weak and contrived to me, but I am ok with that. When she asked me to interview him for her instead, I was confused. We go to a college with more than 21,000 people pursuing their undergraduate degrees, and as a major player in the student paper, you’d think she could get someone else who is on the paper … for example, I don’t know anything about Mr. Vague. Susanna has prepared some questions though. I’ll just be able to read through those.

Then I drive far away for the interview. I have some thoughts that are, frankly, boring, but they establish me more as a character who, ultimately, you will find lacking. My inner goddess stares at me with wide-eyes, shocked at my honesty.

I go to Mr. Vague’s office, “Olivia Gasm, here on behalf of Susanna Strabismus, to see Mr. Vague.” The secretary I am talking to is a totally hot babe. Me-ow, I think to myself, because I have apparently turned into a twelve year old boy. Everyone at this office is totally hotsville, and I take this opportunity to hate these hips! Oh God I hate these hips!

While waiting to go into Mr. Vague’s office, I label the babes based on hotness. News flash – they are all labeled babe numero uno. Then, babe numero uno says, “Mr. Vague will see you now, go right in.” I see a flash of Mr. Vague, and he is beautiful! Suddenly I find that I’m nervous. I stumble, and he kindly helps me up. I am such a klutz! I regain my feet, and lose my voice.

“Hello, I’m Shimper Vague, it’s nice to meet you, Miss Gasm.” Hearing him say my name sends shivers down my spine. Finally I find my voice, and I manage to say something.

“I love witty banter,” I say to him, almost in a whisper.
“What?” he says. Oh good, the banter has begun. I giggle, and his eyes widen slightly.
“Thank you for doing this interview for my college. I’m sorry Susanna couldn’t make it, she’s sick or whatever.” I am shocked that I am able to put together a coherent sentence because have I mentioned he’s hot like whoa and that is overwhelming for me.
“Please, let’s go into my office.”

I follow Shimper Vague into his office. It is a large office, very utilitarian. I could describe the office, allowing you to get a sense that Mr. Vague is into power, form above function, and organization, or I could talk more about how hot he is, because dizzammmmmn ya’ll have you seen that bod!?

“Please sit down, Miss Gasm.” Shimper says this with grace and elegance, I bet he’s in toastmasters or something.
“Question number one, do you know what the color mauve looks like?” I ask this, and then I’m shocked, because I apparently couldn’t take five minutes to glance at Susanna’s list of questions. I can’t believe Susanna just came right out, fists swinging, and asked about mauve!
“Miss Gasm, I am not gay.” Prove it, my inner goddess says. I high-five her in my mind, because good one!
“If you were a stop light, which color would you be?” I ask this, thinking what a stupid question.
“I would be green … and red,” I gasp at his answer! His voice is so husky! Like one of those dogs, a husky. Two shades of vague … this man is an enigma! He is doing things to my body that I have never experienced before, however unlikely that may seem.
“If you had to grade your ownership of Canada, what grade would you give yourself?” This question also seems contrived, like a set up for a bad joke.
“I’d give it an … ‘A’,” he says this with a smirk. Oh, that smirk! What I wouldn’t give to see that smirk again! “Miss Gasm, you seem really intelligent, how would you like a job here?” I’m shocked at this, because I really haven’t been making much of an impression here, and if he’s so successful you’d think he’d be more into hiring people who DO give good impressions.
“I’m flattered, Mr. Vague, but I don’t think I would fit in here.”

Much quicker than you’d expect, given that it took Susanna tons of effort to get this interview, my questions are all done.

“Thank you very much, Mr. Vague, for your time today. Susanna, my school, and I, are all very appreciative.” I know I need to leave, but part of me wants to stay! What is this?! I don’t understand why part of me wants to stay! Even though crushes are a fairly common and intuitive part of the human experience, I am confused by mine. I blush, embarrassed about my lack of self-awareness. His eyes widen. This causes me to blush more. His eyes go even wider. It’s creepy looking. My blushing stops.

“Miss Vague, let me give you my card, and I’ll ride down the elevator with you.”

We get in the elevator together and suddenly the air between us is charged with energy. My hand accidentally brushes against his, and my secret garden gets a rain shower that allows some flowers to blossom. What the hell does this mean? I don’t know, but I knows what I likes, and I likes this.

Suddenly he grabs me and his mouth is on mine. Smoochy, smoochy, smoochy. Ooohhheeee. He pulls back, letting me go just as violently as he’s grabbed me. I don’t know if I want to kick him in the junk, or jump his bones … my inner goddess wants me to do both! She’s so crazy. And apparently into some weird stuff.

For book club we read 50 Shades of Grey, by E. L. James. If you don’t know anything about it, allow me to allow Ellen DeGeneres (you know, the lady I wrote postcards to once a week in the hopes she’ll take pity and invite me on her show and help me get published?) … anywho, here’s Ellen reading from 50 Shades.

The book is bad. I don’t know how else to tell you that. I’m sure some people will like it, but even people who like it (on boards I looked at) seemed to know that it was still bad writing. If you’re into reading about kinky sex or controlling dudes, I recommend this book. Otherwise, suffice yourself with this series of quotes from the book.

My personal favorites are the ones where she talks to her subconscious, and also her “inner goddess.” Good GOD this book is bad.

50 Shades of Grey

His voice is warm and husky like dark melted chocolate fudge caramel … or something.

“Um.” I feel the color in my cheeks rising again. I must be the color of The Communist Manifesto. Stop talking. Stop talking. NOW.

Paul is cute in a wholesome all-American boy-next-door kind of way, but he’s no literary hero, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is Grey? my subconscious asks me, her eyebrow figuratively raised. I slap her down.

My subconscious is figuratively tutting and glaring at me over her half-moon specs.

Tonight’s the night! After all this time, am I ready for this? My inner goddess glares at me, tapping her small foot impatiently. She’s been ready for this for years, and she’s ready for anything with Christian Grey

He gives me a wicked grin, the effects of which travel all the way down there.

It’s a beautiful May morning, Seattle at my feet. Wow, what a view. Beside me, Christian is fast asleep. Wow, what a view.

My inner goddess sits in the lotus position looking serene except for the sly, self-congratulatory smile on her face.

[…] a very small part of me resents that he should find this a surprise. My inner goddess does, too. She makes a very vulgar and unattractive gesture at him with her fingers.

My inner goddess jumps up and down with cheerleading pom-poms shouting yes at me.

My subconscious runs, screaming, and hides behind the couch.

My subconscious peeks out from behind the couch, still registering shock on her harpy face.

I thought I was in charge? My inner goddess looks like someone snatched her ice cream.

My inner goddess pouts at me, failing miserably to hide her disappointment.

Fin

What’s impressive is that I have even more so-amazingly-bad-they’re-good quotes from this book. But that’s all I can muster for now, my inner goddess has a gun.

My Favorite Group

(and yes the main singer has a haircut like the villain from the 5th Element)

Airplane’s Favorite

Juicebox’s Favorite

Rainbow Speak’s Favorite

I may have the favorites wrong … two of them said the same band, and that’s just no fun. One more band we didn’t see, but I like this song and look at those silly bearded canoe-lovers.

Bonus (because this post is easy)