Previously in BDBCB4:BS, we got over-enthused about sharks, if such a thing is possible. This week in Fifty Shades of Grey, we tackle the morning after, dick cozies, and text speak; discuss the relative value of homemade v. storebought; contemplate the myriad places soap should, in all likelihood, never go; and learn new things about French folklore and gentleman explorers. Also, we solicit YOU, dear readers! Keep an eye out for the poll!
Katie: OH HI!
Docta K: OH HAI! Look at how I am home SO FAST?!
Katie: YOU ARE EARLY. I AM IMPRESSED.
Docta K: I busted ass out of work. I was like, BOOK CLUB BITCHEZ. I GOTS TO GO.
Rooks: [heart]. Also, I love you both, but I swear I will only leave these first few lines like this to demonstrate to our readers precisely how much CAPSLOCK I generally have to deal with.
Katie: You’re all…EXCUSE ME, BITCHEZ, I HAVE TO TALK SHIT ABOUT SOME SHIT YOU LOVE.
Docta K: Hahahahahahahaha – Your favorite book sucks!
Katie: IT IS SO BAD.
[ed. note – See? Just sayin’.]
Docta K: For reals, though, and you are totally the worst for loving it.
Docta K: Okay, I got so excited about being on time for book club that I have at present zero (0) alcoholic beverages in my proximity – can I have like two seconds to solve that problem?
Katie: Yes please!
Katie: Rooks has a delightful and refreshing cocktail, while I…have a glass of ice water. But last week I had a ginger mojito at dinner? And my dad made myself and The Boyfriend mai tais the other weekend, and I got a little tipsy and told my mom stories I shouldn’t have, but not about sex, so WIN.
Rooks: I can send y’all pictures of my bev; I put it in a mason jar.
Katie: You look drunky, woman. [ed. note – They saw a much less cropped picture than you’re getting, and more than one at that. Deal with it.] (And I like your nail polish.)
Rooks: Ha, I’m regretfully not, as it’s not that alcoholic; it only has, like, 4 oz. of gin.
Katie: But how many drinks did you have prior?
Rooks: I have a beer I haven’t quite finished, and a handle of Jack Daniels I have finished, but it was pretty empty – like 5 or 6 oz. left, maybe 8 or 10 oz? So roughly a cup of whiskey, a beer, and this. There may’ve been some wine in there too. Like I said, not drunk. :::sigh:::
In which we also discussed the glory of immersion blenders for a good 20 lines, but you don’t really care so it’s been edited out, and Docta K comes back so we can get started.
Docta K: (OMG YOU GUYS ARE NUTS.)
Rooks: Why are we nuts?
Katie: Because Rooks is the least cheap cocktail date in the world?
Docta K: Because so much talking happened in like the three seconds I was gone. Also, can we do video?! I got really excited seeing the picture of you drinking, and – oh, wait, but I am not wearing pants. No, wait, its okay! I shaved my legs; video is cool.
Rooks: I like that putting on pants was never part of that rubric. I mean, we can, but-
Docta K: But then there would be no transcript. FUCK. I am outwitting myself. I just got all excited because of pictures.
Rooks: Otherwise I would have to maybe transcribe this shit, and I can’t handle that.
Docta K: Fuck that noise – too much work. Okay, forget I said it – besides, it is probably not a great idea to drink and talk on the internets with no pants on; that should be like a life rule for me.
Katie: Truth! Though it would be nice if we lived in a world where that was not only ok but awesome.
Rooks: Agree – as much as I’d rather continue to discuss your general pantsless-ness, we should prolly start.
In which Ana wakes up the morning after, just as rigoddamndiculous as when she went to bed.
Docta K: Okay.
Docta K: Wait, what chapter are we on? I am always the worst one at knowing this.
Katie: We are on Ch. 9, also known as – PROBLEMS: FIXT VIA SEXING. PROCEED WITH MORE SEXINGS. Subtitle: This Book Needs More Blowjob.
Docta K: This chapter’s wine pairing is: Vacquieres rosé (and also leftover channa masala). Oh look, it’s morning!
Rooks: Birds are chirping, flowers opening, brain cells dying . . .
Katie: Bitch, the sun shining in your eyes doesn’t coax you from shit. It rudely yanks you from sleep like Christian yanks your nipple.
Rooks: She’s all gazing longingly at him in slumber and he looks younger? The dude is 27 – how old does he look, 12?
Docta K: Wait – “look this good and still be legal”? As in, he might be underage?
Katie: Someone’s a pedo! (Also, sculptured and pouty lips? Does Christian have ALL THE LIPS?)
Docta K: She seems mildly turned on about the fact that now he looks like she maybe just statutory raped him.
Katie: She does then compare him to a small child, so…
Docta K: Ugh, you’re right. It could be, clearly, that the author means it in the sense that this channa masala is so good it should be illegal. But in context? Disgusting.
Rooks: 18 USCWTF §4242: Male-identified persons who knowingly and willfully lie in repose or rest quiescently in such manner at any time such that they happen to be, or are representing themselves as, good looking with any degree of observable accuracy shall hereby be rendered illegal in these United States.
Docta K: UNCONSTITUTIONAL.
Katie: FIRST AMENDMENT SAYS.
Docta K: That violates my right to quarter soldiers, as I want to quarter the SHIT out of some handsome soldiers. (I’m not totally clear on that amendment.)
Rooks: SHIT. The Third Amendment, you tricky devil you! (That was right! Except for the part where the 3rd amendment says you don’t have to quarter soldiers in peacetime, but since you totally don’t have that right in wartime provided the quartering is prescribed by law, the argument seems valid to me!)
Docta K: (Yay!!! I was waitlisted at some very prominent law schools, you know.)
Rooks: (I totally give you points for knowledge of somewhat obscure amendments, for sure.)
Docta K: Also, “I have needs. Bathroom needs.” (I don’t, I just wanted to say it.)
Rooks: I’m trying to figure out if there will ever be a day when saying, “I can’t believe someone actually wrote that,” will get old.
Katie: “Two sinks, I notice with irony.”
Docta K: I mean, no you don’t – you notice it and you think it’s weird, but it’s not really irony when you notice shit. In those circumstances, you pretty much have to say shit. Really, can you notice something ironically?
Rooks: (Wait a sec, back up. Bitch, you got into Stanford – do not front.)
Docta K: (No, I know, but it’s funnier when I say it the other way.)
Katie: (I AM NOTICING YOUR STANFORD ACCEPTANCE WITH IRONY.)
Docta K: Whatever, I noticed this bathroom before it was cool.
Rooks: Hey, is every room in this apartment “bigger than [her] bedroom”? I mean, are bedrooms a unit of measurement, now?
Katie: I think it might be, despite the fact that Kate pays for her shit or whatever.
Rooks: Her subconscious has woken! Which is still plenty weird, but additionally odd because it wasn’t at the same time as the rest of her?
Katie: It’s awoken with a motherfucking comma splice alarm clock.
Rooks: Also, can I ask a really simple question? It’s her fucking subconscious. How the fuck does she know what it’s saying?
Docta K: Because she’s a sub, too! So whenever she’s being topped, it can talk to her!
Katie: Duh. Also, that is a comma splice, right? “You don’t do any exercise in your life, my subconscious has woken.”
Rooks: It is a comma splice – it should be a dash, IMO.
Docta K: Totes should be.
Katie: Or just not exist as a sentence.
Docta K: Or a colon, if you are being real liberal with punctuation.
Rooks: Or a semi colon, if you’re being extremely liberal regarding appropriate use of . . . well, anything, really.
Docta K: Mitt Romney says: colon (2002); dash (2012). TOPICAL HUMOR, WE HAZ IT.
Rooks: +1,000,000 [/Mitts]
Katie: You guys. You guys. I really, really, really hate the idea of “giving” someone your virginity. It’s dumb.
Rooks: It’s like a present! When I gave someone my virginity, I put it in a fancy goft bag – shit – gift bag, with ribbons and tissue paper and a card from Hallmark.
Docta K: When I gave someone my virginity, I did not tell him because I knew it would freak him the fuck out. “Hi, I am not very good at this!” Because really, it is not a gift, it is a mess.
Katie: Is a goft bag like a golf bag and a gift bag combined?
Docta K: It is – they come from Scotland.
Rooks: You guys-
Katie: With the weird sock thingies?
Docta K: Yep.
Rooks: You guys, her subconscious is staring at her–
Katie: OMG, ROOKS, DID YOU PUT A WEIRD SOCK THINGY ON YOUR VIRGINITY?!
Docta K: Ooooh, a cozy! A hoo-hah cozy! That’s very British.
Katie: I’m going to start handing out V-Card cozies – koozies? – at church when my parents drag me.
Rooks: YES, FINE, I-HATE-YOU-DIE. My hoo-ha is a finger or tongue or penis or toy cozy. It’s just cozy. Full stop.
Docta K: Hahaha – true that.
Katie: Foot cozy?
Docta K: We call that a SOCK. Torso cozy? SWEATER. Hand cozy? GLOVE. Head cozy? Come on, you know it…
Rooks: Aka a cozy cozy.
Docta K: Correct! Good job!
Rooks: Ahem. Now, can we move on to the fact Ana doesn’t need to process the sex so much as she needs to process the fact that she can see and hear her subconscious?
Docta K: For realz. Not to sound able-ist, but she needs to process that she is fucking nuts.
Rooks: But not processed with peanuts, because that could be dangerous.
Katie: What is her obsession with her hair?! OMG.
Docta K: Also “hair tie”? Please. Who says hair tie?
Katie: I totally call them hair ties, unless I call them hair binders.
Docta K: Oh do you? Really? I call them hair thingies.
Katie: In OTHER THINGS I HATE: People who cannot fucking type out their shit in texts. There is no need for this “RU” business. “ARE YOU OKAY.” Not “RU OK.”
Docta K: I AGREE. I am a demon about punctuation and spelling things out – oooh, let’s do the next part in text speak!
Rooks: U R RGT. FCKN SUX. (Dudes, I’m so bad at textspeak. I have no idea what kids these days – I mean, I know technically we’re all in the same generation, but still – say in texts. I can figure it out in context, but generating the shit?)
Docta K: U GUYZ RU COOL W/BLUBEARD? (WTF is that?!)
Katie: Unless bitch needs some RU-486, I do not want to see it.
Rooks: RU A PLN B? (Morning after joke!)
Docta K: Okay enough, seriously.
Katie: Yeah, I refuse to participate in this. It makes my insides sad.
In which Ana gets domestic with Christian in the kitchen, nearly has to do all the dishes as well – despite the fact that she did the cooking – and fakes Kate out on a dirty details phone call.
Docta K: She’s just whipping up some pancakes now? Poll: who knows how to make pancakes without Bisquick? Answer: Not me.
Rooks: I do! I use my great grandmother’s recipe.
Katie: I did it the other day! …The ones with Bisquick were better.
Rooks: Not than mine?
Katie: No, yours are really good.
Rooks: I can send you the recipe if you want; they’re really easy.
Docta K: Okay, that’s fair. I was genuinely curious; I do not. I have no goddamn idea. I like the shake it in a container Bisquick – that’s how much I don’t give a shit. Like, I will add water and shakeweight, but that’s it. Otherwise, pancakes – like pie crusts – are on my lists of “easier to buy.”
Katie: Oh man. So you don’t want my all-lard pie crust?
Docta K: I probably do, but I am judging purely on my willingness to do shit, not on objective excellence. Like, I am positive that each of your recipes are better, but am I willing to do that? NO. Unless your recipe says: poure ye olde water into a bisquicke containere, and shake ye it welle untile bubbles do appeare, then render into cakes…I don’t want it.
Katie: “This song used to mean so much to me, that’s because I’m a misfit. I have never fitted in anywhere and now…”
Rooks: It’s impossible for her to categorize her feelings for Christian because she is a fucking moron. Also, why is she fucking calling him Bluebeard?
Katie: He’s a sexy pirate! Plundering her booty!
Docta K: A sexy underage pirate.
Rooks: Um, Bluebeard was the wife-killer y’all, and Blackbeard was the pirate. Wait, right? Do I have them flipped?
Docta K: No idea. To Wikipedia! Oooh, I googled “blue bear” by mistake, but interesting fact! “The blue bear is notable for having been suggested as one possible inspiration for sightings associated with the legend of the yeti. A 1960 expedition to search for evidence of the yeti, led by Sir Edmund Hillary, returned with two scraps of fur that had been identified by locals as ‘yeti fur’ that were later scientifically identified as being portions of the pelt of a blue bear.” You guys! Sir Edmund Hillary, Sir Edmund “I fucked Mount Everest” Hillary, was into yetis. How awesome is that?!
Katie: I almost named my kitten Sir Edmund Hillary.
Rooks: S’true, she very nearly did. Wait, who was it that couldn’t deal with penguin sex?
Docta K: Sir Whatshisface, you know, walked out into the thingy. Tent, Antarctic…you know, canned plums still good…FUUUUCK! Sir…Sir…Sir…
Rooks: Cptn. Robert Scott! (Though I was really sad to interrupt the . . . word association?)
Docta K: SHACKLETON! Oh, damn, no, but Shackleton is the motherfucker I was thinking of. Wait, Robert Scott? He was bothered by penguin sex? Really? Why?
Rooks: Well, you were right about the Antarctic part? But yeah! Just read the link.
Katie: Do they quarry slate in Antartica? I may hate Christian, but I am seriously jealous of his placemats; I really, really, really want slate placemats, you guys.
Rooks: Sorry, I’m still hung up on the fact that Ana thinks his kitchen is hard and intimidating because the cabinets don’t have handles. Could. She. Be. Dumber.
Docta K: Oh, wow. Wow. Those penguins are fucked up. They do not even care.
Katie: He remembered her favorite mediocre tea, you guys! It’s love.
Rooks: How does he have “designer stubble”? Like, who designed it?
Rooks: YSL? Chanel? Madame Grès?
Docta K: Probably Isaac Mizrahi for Target – bitch doesn’t know shit about shit.
Katie: She puts a teabag in a teapot? Amateur.
Rooks: If she is turning puce, she should maybe see a dermatologist? Also, who keeps syrup in the fridge? Wouldn’t it be difficult to pour?
Katie: You know, I was just googling that. Apparently, if it’s real, you have to refrigerate it after opening.
Rooks: Oh, he has pancake mix, as it turns out – bearing that in mind, do we think the syrup’s real?
Katie: He also has cabinets without handles and slate placemats, so it could be.
Docta K: Speaking of googling, “’Bluebeard’ (French: La Barbe bleue) is a French literary folktale written by Charles Perrault and published in Histoires ou contes du temps passé in 1697. The tale tells the story of a violent nobleman in the habit of murdering his wives and the attempts of one wife to avoid the fate of her predecessors.” You know what? I knew that. A friend of mine, who used to dance with the Welsh national ballet, was in a weird piece called Bluebeard – I saw it, and it was definitely about wife murdering. It was pretty cool!
Rooks: That’s nifty, but what’s important about that story is that I was right.
Katie: I prefer sexy pirates to wife-murderers. I’m going to stick with sexy pirates. Oh hey, apparently when he said “basic training,” HE THOUGHT THEY COULD STICK TO ORAL SKILLS. I foresee blowjob!
Rooks: Why is she freaking out about him asking how sore she is? That’s just polite, right? It’s not that personal, my God – it’s not like dude wasn’t just literally inside your person, so it seems a bit late to be all shy.
Katie: “‘I told you, I have issues with wasted food. Eat,'” he snaps. His eyes are dark, pained.” I’m beginning to think dude is a cannibal and he’s fattening her up, Hansel and Gretel candy house-style. Don’t worry, deary, I won’t waste a bit of you!
Rooks: More cushion for the pushin’!
Docta K: It washes the dishes, then it takes a bath – IT TAKES A BATH!
Rooks: So, wait, his usual style is to be an autocratic fuckwad about cooking and cleaning? Look, I’m sorry, but if I cook, you clear. Thems the rules.
Katie: Agree. Also, Kate has apparently been waiting for Ana to put a cozy on her virginity for almost four years? I know she called you, Kate, but maybe back off, bitch!
Docta K: On the other hand, why call your bestie to discuss the sex if you have no intentions of discussing the sex? Seriously, what is the point of that?
Katie: Oh god, Christian’s so gross. NO YOU CAN’T TALK TO YOUR FRIEND ABOUT SEX YOU HAVE TO ASK ME YOUR QUESTIONS. BECAUSE NDA SAYS. Someone needs to introduce this bitch to Scarleteen, or, like, Google, maybe?
In which Ana subsequently gets dirty (and probably a yeast infection) with Christian in the bathtub.
Docta K: Hey, bath sequence! If he’s going to take off her shirt anyway, why comment about the dangers of an iPod near a tub? I mean, he’s right, but it’s not like her shirt was going in the water, so who cares?
Rooks: Wait, Christian’s never had vanilla sex? Ever. Ever ever. I mean I’m sorry, not to deny his personal truth or anything, but I do not buy it.
Docta K: Me neither, if only because Christian Grey is a Captain of Industry, and sometimes captains need to make sexy deals with old ladies, or whatever. Not all old ladies like getting smacked.
Katie: Aye-aye, Cap’n!
Rooks: It smells of “sweet sultry Jasmine.” Like Aladdin? Proper nouns for the win!
Katie: She is pretty sultry, because, you know, brown people are like that, I hear.
Rooks: But back to the other thing, I mean, homeboy was once a teenager – was he having his then girlfriends sign NDAs too?
Docta K: Well, no spoilers, but he explains that later – it is a major plot point.
Rooks: Never not once ever?
Docta K: Dude, I know; I hear it, but yes, never.
Rooks: You know what? I bet I can guess. I can guess right now. I will lock that shit in.
Docta K: Okay, guess!
Rooks: 1. He likes kink, and there must be a “why,” because that’s how this author rolls and it’s oh-so-pervy and odd and peculiar. 2. He’s really anal about not wasting food. 3. He won’t let her touch him unless it’s in extremely controlled circumstances. Ergo, in the world of stupid book tropes, abuse and neglect for the win.
Docta K: Mostly correct! Except that: 4. He does have a strangely positive view on sex, which means that…
Rooks: Oh. OH. He’s known the love of a solid Mrs. Robinson?
Docta K: Done and done! You win!
Katie: DING DING DING DING DING! Coo-coo-ca-choo…
Docta K: Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio?
Katie: If Joe were the “hero” in this “book” the answer would likely be off to beat (blonde!) Marilyn Monroe.
Rooks: So our Mrs. Robinson was into kink, and thus Christian never once banged without it.
Docta K: Yep! Dude, Ana Seal even calls her “Mrs. Robinson,” just wait – it is so obvious.
Rooks: I still don’t quite buy it, but ok, at least it’s explained, I guess. It’s still right up there with the fact that if a woman throws up on screen, 99/100 times she’s knocked up.
Katie: And that other one time, she’s bulimic.
Docta K: If she’s bulimic, we know because she throws up off screen, but we hear it.
Rooks: True! See, e.g., Gossip Girl.
Katie: “Hm…he’s soft and hard at once, like steel encased in velvet…” DID I CALL THAT SHIT HOWEVER MANY WEEKS AGO OR WHAT?!
Katie: You guys, she’s magic at blowjobs just like she is at sex and orgasms! “He’s my very own Christian Grey flavor popsicle.”
Rooks: Ok, soap between the legs.
Docta K: Ow.
Rooks: Have none of these people heard of yeast infections?
Docta K: Good luck, Ana – hope your crotch is better acclimated than your brain!
Katie: The meringue with some salsa moves? The inner goddess is really getting down.
Rooks: You do realize you just described a really gross dessert, not a dance, right?
Katie: It’s a whipped frothy pile of fuck you.
Docta K: Let me just say, as a dance professional, the merengue is a great dance for working on your turn patterns, but it’s incredibly pedestrian and stupid! And: salsa on 1 or on 2? Probably on 1, given that this book is set on the west coast, but not necessarily! As such, what salsa moves? The hip action is the same in salsa and merengue, so really, anything that you can do in merengue is a merengue move – there is nothing distinctively salsa about it unless you are using a QQS timing or hitting the clave. Okay, that is all.
Katie: So what you’re saying is that Ana’s inner goddess is full of shit.
Docta K: Correct.
Rooks: This is a really not full bathtub if they are both in it and the water is at his hips, no? I think we call that a water displacement FAIL.
Katie: Oooh, she doesn’t have a gag reflex y’all! She’s learning so much new shit about her body!
Rooks: Ok, no. Nononono. NO. She is sucking off his soaped dick. The soap is still on it.
Docta K: That is gross, although very Puritan? Wash your mouth out with soap, Goody Ana!
Katie: So what you’re saying is that Ana’s mouth is full of soap.
Katie: And her vagina is full of yeast infection.
Docta K: Double correct.
Katie: At lease she apparently gets an A in oral skillz?
Rooks: Wait, she does? I mean, he wanted to fuck her mouth, not for her to fuck him with her mouth. Practically speaking, there’s a pretty big active verb difference there.
Katie: Ana doesn’t know the difference; she’s never watched porn or had any interest in holding hands with boys.
Docta K: She’s been busy having a half-assed interest in Brit Lit.
Katie: I am really not into men telling me how young I look while tying me up and going down on me.
Docta K: You know, this story would make a lot more sense if Ana Seal were the intrepid girl reporter driven by her need to get the scoop, and Kate were the slutty roommate with a half-assed English major and a great wardrobe.
Katie: And if she wore glasses!
Docta K: LOIS LANE.
Katie: THIS BOOK NEEDS MOAR GLASSES.
Docta K: CHRISTIAN GREY MAN OF STEELE. Hahahahaha, I make myself laugh.
Katie: And I never thought I’d say it, but less blowjob.
Rooks: I mean, if the blowjobs are like this, way less blowjob.
Katie: Also, I’m not sure “sweet” is the right descriptor for the flavor of belly button. I’m just guessing here though, because I’ve never had the urge to stick my tongue in someone’s belly button.
Rooks: I vote “linty.” Authors always want to say that various body parts taste like things it is pretty much guaranteed they don’t taste like though; I’m fairly certain I once read a particularly shitty historical romance where someone’s nipples supposedly just happened to taste like raspberries and cream. Fucking seriously.
Katie: Although I did have a professor once who told us about a client who thought that you got pregnant by fucking the woman’s belly button. Well, clearly he didn’t think he would get pregnant that way – he thought she would.
Rooks: I hope his dick was extremely small.
Katie: Me. Too.
Docta K: That is weird. I mean, how would you even think that? You can’t even shove it all the way in.
Rooks: Um, I know Ana has no gag reflex or whatever, but the back of the throat is not actually that far, if that’s how we’re measuring size. Ahem.
Katie: She is really into this foot licking and biting shit. Have either of you ever actually gotten off this much on someone biting your little toe? Because I’m not being judgy, but I find that weird, where “weird” = “unrealistic.”
Docta K: Oh snap, homie has some full 70s bush.
Katie: Oh for the LOVE- “He’s going to kiss me there!”
Docta K: My Place!
Rooks: Down There!
Katie: I can’t even.
Docta K: Oh no!!! God, for realz. You guys, you know I read shitty regency romance novels, and this happens in like every one–
Katie: “I can’t watch him do that!”
Rooks: :::is twitterpated:::
Docta K: -But in those, at least there is a cultural construct explaining the bullshit wherein women are kept ignorant of their sexuality and are genuinely surprised. Fine. But Ana Seal lives in the 21st century. HOW HAS SHE NEVER HEARD OF ORAL SEX?!
Rooks: Apparently, though she just had her face on his dick, the thought that he might do the same is crazypants.
Docta K: The internet. You have the internet. How is this possible? You did not grow up on a compound or an amish…thingy, so dude – you know about pussy eating. SERIOUSLY, you do – it is a joke on Friends for god’s sake.
Rooks: Dude, the Amish can get rowdy, yo. Another orgasm?! NO! It’s not possible, Christian! You would give me a whole ‘nother orgasm?!
Docta K: That is so many! I cannot count that high!
Katie: “I know in that moment that I would do anything for this man. I am his. The wonder that he’s introduced me to, it’s beyond anything I could have imagined.” YOU WOULDN’T HAVE HAD TO IMAGINE IT IF YOU’D, LIKE, TOUCHED YOUR OWN SUPER-RESPONSIVE VULVA, BITCH. I mean, not the same, etc., etc., but…for the love of god.
Docta K: She’s such an idiot.
Katie: Also, wasn’t he all…we aren’t going to have sex because you are sore like, six pages ago?
Rooks: Yes, he was. Apparently a bath and a soap-covered washcloth is an analgesic. Man, I dunno why no one ever mentioned this before!
Docta K: Something’s an irritant, that is for sure.
Rooks: Um, I know he’s like a big bad Dom in theory, but seriously, he’s kind of a really shitty Dom.
Katie: BUT HE GIVES HER ALL THE ORGASMS. SHE’S HIS.
Rooks: The rules constantly change, and he can’t top her for longer than 5 minutes on the most basic of shit because of the feelings.
Docta K: THE FEELINGZ! They are so much!
Rooks: Possession is not 9/10 of the sexual lifestyle.
Katie: It’s not his fault that her vagina and mouth and little toes are so magik.
Docta K: He pretends he does not feel because he feels so deeply. What total bullshit. I am still not drunk enough for this bullshit.
Katie: We know he feels so deeply because he has to play piano in the night. He plays the music of the night.
Rooks: Feel the beat(ing off) of the rhythm of the night!
Docta K: Sing for me, Ana Seal! Sing your seal siren song of sexiness!
Rooks: :::barks an aria:::
Katie: You guys, I have A Plan.
1. Seal arias
Rooks: Love it.
Katie: Oh! Hey guys, this chapter doesn’t conclude with Christian having a sad! It concludes with Christian’s mother appearing in his apartment right after they fuck!
Rooks: So wait, mommy dearest has arrived and thinks it’s cool to just go into her adult child’s bedroom with no warning?
Katie: SHE MUST CHECK FOR WIRE HANGERS.
Docta K: She is a momma grizzly. Oh, WTF ever, I am done with this chapter and I don’t give a shit. Fuck Christian Grey and fuck Ana Seal.
Rooks: Oh, they will, clearly. All the orgasms, all the time.
In which a new plan is formed, because clearly we are completely done caring about this book and would like it out of our lives forthwith, but would hate to disappoint the readers, and as such are merely delaying the inevitable.
Rooks: Y’all, we only did one chapter again. I’m concerned that this pace will become glacial, and I think we’d like to be done sometime before the autumn equinox.
Docta K: Reading this book tends to leave me drunk and bored. I love book club, but I am really over this book.
Katie: I would maybe enjoy something I hate less. You know what I’m saying.
Rooks: Ok, well, how about we all just read the rest of the book, do one more post to close it out (‘cause that won’t be a whole new brand of epic), and pick something – anything! – else to read?
Katie: Should we solicit potential books from the readers?
Docta K: It probably will not hurt, unless they decide to torture us.
Rooks: Ok, let’s go with that, then. [ed. note – If anyone votes “other,” can you please say what it it in the comments? Also, we are open to actual suggestions on all fronts.] In the mean time, start thinking of things to read, just in case?
Katie: Okay! Now I must go, but here are my closing thoughts: The mother is my favorite character so far, and all she’s done is show up and be pushy.
Rooks: The soap is my favorite character so far, because it’s everywhere it shouldn’t be!
Docta K: I don’t bother with pancakes! That’s…all I got.
That’s if for this week folks! Join us next time, when our tolerance for bullshit has reached an all time low! In the interim, please enjoy this amazing clip from a recent Colbert Report – your life isn’t complete without a sexy reading of Nahum, I promise you – vote in the poll, and give us book suggestions here or on the facebook page! Enjoy the pancakes!