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Category Archives: Fifty shades of grey

Fran’s Trouble’s

From: Fran, aka “Christian Grey’s next sub”
Subject: Unmanageable?  Me?
Date: July 1, 2012  06:04
To: Bitsy
Twenty one days in my Fifty Shades 12-Step Program and counting . . . . . .

For some reason Stanly decided my behavior has become “unmanageable”??  Well to be honest, he called me “psychotic”!  A bit much, don’t you think???  ALL I WANTED WAS AN “ANA STEELE ORGASM” WITH A FULL BLADDER!  IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR GOD’S SAKE???

Anyway, he might as well have sentenced me to death—–this place is absolute HELL!  There are signs all over the entrance, “NO TRILOGY ALLOWED”, “NO TRILOGY ALLOWED”, NO TRILOGY ALLOWED”!  (I tried stuffing my Kindle down the back of my thong as Stanley checked me in, but even that didn’t work….)

No piercing grey eyes….. no perfectly hung pants…..no thick copper-tinted hair……no nothing.  I’m kinda wishing he’d sent me to jail instead—at least I’d had a better chance of finding a twitchy palm or two.

Be a friend Bitsy, I’m on Book Two, Chapter Ten.  Would you pleeeeease bring me Chapter Eleven when you visit?  PRETTY PLEASE….?  Anything you need to do….put a Bible cover on it, fold it up and stuff it in your bra…..anything!

Love Your Fifty-starved friend,

Fran

P.S.  This is serious, Bitsy!  I feel like my vagina’s drying up!!

From: Bitsy
Subject: Vaginal Dryness
Date: July 1, 2012 06:10
To: Fran

Dear Fran,

I’m sympathetic to your need, I really am….Book Two, Chapter Ten…..that’s a terrible spot to be in!  Such erotic bliss stolen right from your hands…..that’s inhumane…..akin to slave-trafficking if you asked me!  But I don’t know Fran….sneak Chapter Eleven to you???  Don’t you think I’ll get caught??  I hear this Program you’re in is VERY HARD CORE!  Rumor has it, they do both anal and vaginal probes to any and all female visitors entering the facility…..I’ll do my best…..

Love from one SUB-wanna be to another,

Bitsy

P.S. I’ll give some thought to your “dry vagina”, that IS serious…..

From: Stanley
Subject: No, we are not building a “Red Room of Pain” addition onto our house!!!
Date: July 1, 2012 06:30
To: Fran

Dear Fran,

In case you’re wondering (hopefully you are), the kids as well as your dog and mother are all fine.  FYI, I’ve just informed the “higher ups” in your facility that you’ll be staying an extra 60 days from what we’d discussed.  I was hoping to have you home in another 10 days, but when I arrived home from work today and couldn’t see the front door of our home because of your recent shipment of “toys” from UPS, I decided additional time might be necessary…..

Love your worn out, deflated, and forlorn husband,

Stanley

From: Fran, aka “Christian Grey’s next sub”
Subject: One tiny favor….
Date:  July 1, 2012 06:31
To: Stanley

Dear Stanley,

Could you be a dear for me and check to see if any of those packages at the front door have the “Extra Large Set of Ben wa Balls” I special ordered?

Love your vaginally-dry wife (its like a desert here),

Fran

 
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Posted by on July 1, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Fifty shades of Grey – 12 step program

12 REASONS EVERY MOM SHOULD SEEK A FSOG 12-STEP PROGRAM IMMEDIATELY!

1. You’ve decided you’d rather clutch your shiny Apple computer when falling asleep than your husband.

2. You refuse to drive or ride in any vehicle but an Audi.

3. You’ve forced your husband to wear grey contact lenses.

4. You’ve gone 24 days with the same tampon in because no one will agree to remove it.

5. You’ve divorced your husband because he refuses to be your Dom.

6. You despise peeing.

7. You’ve converted your nursery into YOUR “playroom”; the baby is in the basement.

8. You’ve painted every room in your house red.

9. You’ve cross-referenced the music from the book with page numbers and you’ve deleted all other music from your ipod.

10. You’re replaced daily exercise, meditation and prayer with daily spankings.

11. You’re able to quote FSOG more accurately than you are the Bible.

12. The Hustler store knows you by first name.

 
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Posted by on June 9, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Absolute bladder-busting, sexual delirium.

That would best describe both Fran’s mental and vaginal states as she loped, somewhat kangaroo-like, into her home, muttering “gotta have it, gotta have it”. Fran’s bladder and her vagina had become one, a not so romantic union that most of us guard against with every fiber in our soul. Fran was experiencing a unique brand of genital hysteria that not even the most experienced of gynocologists would recognize. Ana Grey may have found this bladder sex erotic, but Fran’s version didn’t seem to be quite as arousing. Her competitive side had take over, however, and by God, if Ana could do it, so could Fran!

And there sat her poor hubby, Stanley, quivering with a lump in his throat at what he feared could turn into a sexual, sadistic meltdown. A penal fear like he’d never known. Since his wife had found Christian Grey, their whole world had changed. Fun-lovin Fran had turned into f**kin-lovin Fran with a man-eating horniness he’d never before witnessed. There had been a time when Stanley could have “risen” to the occasion, not any type of Red Room explosion mind you, more of the ole faithful, slow and steady type, but never the less, Stan used to fan Fran’s flame. But those days were over.  Fran had butchered his proverbial meat. As he stared down at his “flat stanley” and his shriveled up peanut of a penis whispered “run Stanley, run”! If the whips has caused him to pass out, what was her bulging bladder going to do to him. The thought of trying to mount this woman at this point was not only nauseating but mind altering. Even if she got her Ana-grade “O”, a little pressure at the wrong angle could potentially generate a flood not seen since Biblical times.

Unfortunately for them, Fran’s sweet children spotted her at this point and having lost all reason, as she watched them racing towards her for some affection, all she could see was Christian Grey escaping from her. On instinct, she flung open the closest bathroom door and shoved her friend Bitsy and her two kids inside.  Running like lightening towards Stanley, she grabbed him by the neck and padlocked their bathroom. Fran looked pantingly at him and wasnt sure which was more arousing, Stanley or the commode. Stanley stood frozen, mortified at his tigress of a wife. Realizing he was of no use, Fran quickly threw her hair into a braid and resourcefully handcuffed her own hands and legs together, grabbed her Kindle, and commanded Stanley to read. She WAS going to reenact this, to HELL with everyone!

Stuttering and quivering, Stanley began…”You’re going to have to absorb all the pleasure….don’t move.” Fran moaned. Stanley cleared his throating, shifting uncomfortably, “You drive me crazy…so I am going to drive you crazy….biting, sucking…tasting, exploring, dominating.”  As Stanley read, Fran’s desired mounted and mounted….and MOUNTED! “Do you want me?….. Then you’ll have me….”  This wasn’t exactly the way Fran wanted it, but it would have to do. “Still baby, I want you,” Stanley read, “You’ll feel more this way…..” And just as Fran was about to “detonate”, her son came banging on the bathroom door, “mommy, mommy, why did you lock me in the bathroom, and did you buy me a “popsicle” today like you promised??”

“Popcicle”, said Fran? “That’s the ‘safe’ word!” “Who said the ‘safe’ word??” “I can’t hear the ‘safe’ word right now, that ruins everything!!”  Watching Fran and the look of rage on her face, Stanley decides he’s the one not feeling safe. He lugs blindfolded, handcuffed Fran off the floor, her braid swinging back and forth, plops her on the commode, and under a veil of Grey shame, escapes!

As Fran finally remedied her distended bladder, chanting some Hindu-like mantra, Stanley furiously scanned the yellow pages. His wife couldn’t be the only compulsive, addicted, horny, Chrstianite nutcase to turn her life over to BDSM all because of Christian Grey….there had to be a FSOG 12-step program out there.  Bondage, discipline, dominance, submission, sadism, masochism…..all Franny’s favorite words…..poor Stan was desperate!

 
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Posted by on June 8, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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A full bladder a la Ben Wa…

Bladder blog – Part Two Though I was hopeful Fran might reconsider deforming her body for the sake of an orgasm, I knew when she called me at 6:20 a.m. to tell me she had just downed three “Christian Grey Red Room of Pain” smoothies and had decided not to pee until midnight, that the day might become slightly problematic.  She seemed to make it through the morning reasonably well ,despite back-to-back meetings with several important clients, but by the time lunch rolled around, her voice HAD become a little urgent.  Of course it didn’t help that Fran had decided to heighten her pleasure by inserting a shiny new pair of Ben wa balls that her dear friend, Bitsy, had been so kind to give her for her birthday—apparently both Fran and Bitsy are good Christian-respecting women, every O, a sacred experience and every new toy, a Christmas morning relived. (As a side note, it is interesting to observe that despite being mission-style devotees throughout their lives, Bitsy even  suffering from frigidity from time to time, both girls, since devouring THE Trilogy, have “opened” themselves to new positions to put it mildly….) Come to find out, despite a lower abdomen that was protruding like a soft ball, Fran had decided to keep her scheduled lunch with some prominent bankers thinking she would be able to disguise the situation.  However, as we all know by now, Fran’s reasoning skills become a little skewed the deeper she falls into her Christian-trances and the bankers unfortunately were more than aware that, at a minimum, her walk was severely affected by the time lunch was over. The sideways lunge that she used when she rose to leave the restaurant caught the eye of many and it didn’t help that she threw out a slight moan with every step.  They had thought it slightly odd that Fran skipped the buffet and just ordered five iced teas for lunch, but by the time the meal was over and she began rolling her hips around in her chair while simultaneously rolling her eyes into the back of her head, they knew something was askew.By the time I saw her in our the school carline, she had taken to hopping up and down in her mini van. Hers was the only one rocking in the whole parking lot so it became quite obvious, quite quickly that we may have an emergency on our hands. The most alarming part came, however, when I noticed Fran had the book itself dangling from her rear-view mirror with clothes pins holding the pages back. If she’s not careful, she’s going to cause an amendment of the town’s driving ordinances…..driving your mini van, while reading Fifty Shades and sporting a full bladder a la Ben wa, no less has to classify as public endangerment. I guess the policeman who pulled Fran over was in agreement. I think he was probably thinking along the lines of OxyContin, but when Fran got out of her mini van bent over with her legs crossed so tightly, her veins were popping, and cupping her groin, the policeman wasn’t really sure what he’d encountered….He couldn’t really ticket her for reading as he couldn’t prove anything, but I guess Fran had purposefully picked a road that was in the process of being resurfaced with the hope this might intensify the Ben wa pleasure, all of which had created quite a scene on the road. I don’t know whether it was the balls, the road, or the full bladder, but I guess the big O finally came because Fran was apparently in such a state of delirium, she didn’t hear the policeman’s siren he was forced to deploy as a result of her ear-piercing climax. She got out of her mini van a little stiff to say the least, drenched in perspiration but smiling big no less. Disarmed by this scene, the poor policeman knew he had no choice but to arrest her as had he let her go and this freak of a mother had reentered the city streets, his license could have easily been revoked. Fortunately for Fran, she had quickly texted Bitsy to tell her about her traffic violation and Bitsy, being the loyal and understanding orgasm-loving mom that she is, jumped in her mini van and sped off to come to her sex-starved friend’s rescue.  Unfortunately for Fran, Bitsy did not arrive on the scene until AFTER the poor policeman had reached for his handcuffs.  When Fran saw those shiny, love-making tools emerge from his pocket, it was like watching a killer doberman spot a porterhouse steak. Fran began salivating, frothing at the mouth.  “CHRISTIAN MY CHRISTIAN,” she began chanting, “TAKE ME NOW”!  Despite Bitsy’s frantic speed, she was unable to stop this lurid scene from unfolding, and by the time her mini van screeched to a stop, Fran was on the ground, begging this poor man to handcuff her right hand to her right foot and her left hand to her left foot.  To top it off, she had a $100 bill clenched in her teeth, hoping to bribe him if wouldn’t willingly comply.  When Bitsy saw this, she was aghast!  She well knew they had both suffered some phyiscal indignities (all self-induced I might add) since starting the book, but getting the law involved?  This was a little edgy, even for them.Bitsy approached the officer warily, and swiftly leaned down to pull her friend out of the cultish appearing yogic pose she had assumed on a public thoroughfare.  As Fran had concluded the officer wasn’t quite understanding the extent of her physical need, she had begun rolling back and forth, grasping each ankle with her legs splayed, hoping he would get a glimpse of the point of insertion.  Bitsy pulled with all her might until Fran wearily gave up. Depsite this man’s beer gut, bald head, and missing teeth, all Fran could see in her deluded state were visions of Christian Grey in the flesh, the thick wavy hair with copper highlights, the piercing grey eyes and pants hanging sensually from the hips. (In reality, however, this poor man’s uniform pants were hiked up an entire foot above his jiggly mammouth belly which tells you just how far gone she was…)  When Bitsy finally resorted to telling the officer about some fabricated, servere mental problems her friend was experiencing, he let them both go, on the promise Bitsy would drive and probably relieved as hell to get this middle-aged, panting, purple-skinned woman away from him.As Bitsy shoved Fran in the car to take her home, poor Fran’s hubby was just arriving home himself.  He knew from her instruction that morning, the night may turn out to be a long one, but I don’t think even he could have predicted his wife’s current state.More to follow…..laters

 
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Posted by on June 5, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Peeing is so passé.

“Forget Everything Your Mother Once Told You….To Pee is Human, To ‘Hold It’, Divine”

PART ONE~~

There are few authors than can truly boast a talent for challenging their readers to explore the depths of their sexual souls.  And, on a less poetic note, there are even fewer authors who have the capacity to convince a woman that peeing is passé.

Unfortunately, there are readers out there that, to say they are “committed to Christian Grey”, would be putting it mildly.  Take my friend Fran, for example, (you may remember her….Hustler store tutorial, death by orgasm–she’s been quite active over the last month) is as big a “Christianite” as you’ll ever meet.  Does she care that her country club had to amend its friggin by-laws because of her aching groin? Hell no! Hence having pleasured herself in the baby pool at the expense of a few toddlers’ concussions was, to her, a small price to pay.

You will understand then that when I tell you that when Fran decided she would fill her bladder to three times its capacity to experience another “Christian-type O”, she meant business.  Fran was on a mission.  A mission, mind you, that almost got her arrested and nearly rushed to the hospital with a distended stomach, a UTI, and a bladder as big as her home state of Texas.  None-the-less, Fran HAD to have the big one.  And, as you will see, her husband, (bless his soul, he’s tried to be patient with her, hoping this whole craze of hers is some kinky side effect of perimenopause that he’s unfamiliar with), is trying his best to keep up.

This man is an athlete and all, but Fran’s fervor over “Fifty Shades” has put this poor man’s agility, balance, endurance and strength to the test. This guy started out a stealth 175 lbs when his wife began reading the famed trilogy, but with each passing book (he’s the one who actually passed out in the whip section of the Hustler store), he’s taken off at least 10 lbs a book. Damn if Fran hasn’t read like a viscous tiger to get through the trilogy and this poor guy is down below 150 lbs now, a literal shadow of himself. Has Fran noticed you wonder? Not on your life….

Having decided to blow her bladder up to three times it’s capacity (Fran never does anything halfway), she texted her poor hubby to get the handcuffs and blindfold ready, they were spending the night on their boat that night. Granted, it’s a 25-year old run-about on a local bass fishing lake, hardly Christian’s yacht on the French Riviera, but Fran had to reinact the scene and the way she can fantasize, it matters not.

As she shares all this with me on the phone, I’m just praying her husband is able to get her hair into the famous “Ana braid” and produce all those hickeys Fran is so ravenous for all over her neck and chest. Poor guy, I fear for him, when Fran gets into one of those cave man-like reading modes, she’ll often get such a wild look in her eye, panting, grunting and drooling that her hubby can get a little scared. Not to mention the pressure he feels to produce one of those virtual 12 inch, rock-hard protrusions that Christian dons regularly and that Fran sweats over daily.

Laters all you twitchy palm moms, gotta go, but stay tuned, more to follow on Fran’s full bladder….

 
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Posted by on June 4, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Christian’s Red Room of Pain is Soooo Pleasureful!

I knew it was just a matter of time before the essence that is Christian would tap yet another dimension of our lives.  A new smoothie is now available called “Christian Grey’s Red Room of Pain.”. And, like we all imagine Christian, it is mighty tasty! Don’t know if it will deliver the delicious orgasms that Ana enjoys, but at least we’ll have the health and strength this beautiful man values so deeply. (Quick note to the country club set–you might want to take one of these along with you to the pool next time as you read, it may cool you off and keep your Lily suits in tact despite the fires that burn within.)
Why or how this man is so intoxicating, who knows but one thing is for sure, Christian Grey’s juices are now penetrating more than just Ana….
 
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Posted by on June 1, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Death by Orgasm: The Painful Aftermath…

For some women, as I so incredulously witnessed on Memorial Day embracing their inner-Ana’s has enabled them to break through every level of social boundary. Not surprisingly, my country club has had to amend their 150-year old by-laws to discourage future orgasms in the pool area. They also passed a unanimous decision made at an emergency board of directors meeting, to reduce the level of pressure on the water jets in the baby pool. This issue was debated at length as the chairman was concerned the levels could get dangerously low. However, when the pool manager pointed out that it took only one middle-aged reader, propelled by her pulsating vaginal need to prostrate herself to the baby pool jet, to cause a total orgasmic uproar on an important family holiday, the chairman acquiesced that perhaps the club had no choice but to acknowledge the titillating power of this book and amend their policies accordingly. As the manager pointed out, while this certainly wasn’t a healthy influence on the babies present, the real problems ensued when all the other salivating women on the premise became lip-bitingly jealous of this woman’s depth of pleasure. All motherly instincts were abandoned as they started flinging babies right and left to clear a path to that jet. Floaties were burst and rubber duckies smashed. There were cuts, bruises, even a concussion caused by these Christian-hungry vaginas. Babies were screaming, pacifiers were flying and the life guards were madly blowing their whistles, but to no avail.
Amended country club by-laws:
1. The club recognizes that banning “Fifty Shades of Grey” from the property entirely would result in obliterating half the membership, hence in order to protect the club’s financial interest, the club will not ban the book.
2. In dire effort, however, to regain the family-friendly pre-Memorial Day flavor of the club, it will be required from this point forward that all books entering the pool area must be covered, preferably with a pink and green cover, but at a minimum, something equally tasteful; ereaders are preferred.
3. In full disclosure of the power of this book, the club recognizes that if allowed on the premise, orgasms are inevitable. Hence, each female member above the age of 18 is allowed one orgasm per day but ONLY if she capable of staying in her seat, rear end firmly rooted to her chair, feet on the ground. No moaning, howling or grunting allowed. Clenching chair arms is permitted.
4. For over one orgasm a day, you will be asked to leave the pool area for the day.
5.  For over two orgasms a day, you will not be allowed back in the pool area for the season (we had to draw the line somewhere).
6. No male life guards or babies may be harmed or traumatized in any way.
Sincerely,
The Board of Directors
 
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Posted by on May 31, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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“Death by Orgasm” on Memorial Day?

I’ve come to the conclusion that there are as many shades of 50 Shades’ readers as there are shades of Christian himself. Nowhere was this more evident than at my country club’s Memorial Day festivities this year.
Let me preface by establishing the fact that this club is the quintessential, old line, pain-in-the-neck, Lily Pulizer-wearing, bastion of conservatism that you see parodied in sit coms. Yes folks, there are still places where young men are proud to carry on their family’s nauseating legacy of plaid madras shorts and penny loafers–no socks–as they sport their military-like, sheared hair cuts and Kennedyesque bleached dental work. “Christian Alert” people, we’ve moved out of the 1950′s.  Please burn those ear-shatteringly loud kelly green pants for heaven’s sake. Christian’s crisp, white linen shirts and faded jeans are doing more to grease your ladies’ groins than your old dusty threads. No offense Ralph, but your iconic pony has  been deflowered by the likes of Christian Grey.
Needless to say, despite the perineal plethora of LL Bean monogrammed swim totes, there was a slightly different tilt to the pool scene this year. Yes, they may look like they’re needle pointing a belt for their husbands (with images of birds they can’t wait to blast into smithereens when hunting season hits) when in fact, they’re discussing how entry from behind leads to much deeper penetration. It is a very smooth and sophisticated group you see, with the exterior image of a model nuclear family, honed to a tee–everyone smiling, physician husband, beautiful tennis wife, handsome intellectual son and fairy-tale looking daughter.  There’s one caveat here….that beautiful wife has sweated profusely all afternoon, not from the heat, but from the “sex on legs” she’s spent the afternoon fantasizing about.  Who knew the 1%er’s were so sexually frustrated. Perhaps if we’d known this from the start, we could have avoided a lot of havoc on Wall Street. One hour with Christian in the shower and I would bet far fewer women would be protesting tax increases.
In the spirit of the holiday, there were those brave few, and I mean FEW,  who chose to read the book, cover exposed. Now depending on your point of view this is either courageous or mind-splinteringly stupid. It’s one thing for everyone at the pool to know you’re reading some sexually charged literature and quite another for them to unequivocally deduce that you’ve become so turned on that between your book and the lemon martini’s you’ve been ordering for the past two hours, you’re now requesting handcuffs from the 20-something server instead of your usual chicken Caesar.
Other’s decided to read electronically so they could deny affiliation with the book and further claim at Sunday school next week how fundamentally offended they are by this smut. There are in fact those that assert that while everyone else has succumbed to Christian’s “kinky f**kery”, they’ve opted instead to walk in Jesus’s path. All I can say to this is, you’re going to have to do more than just throw on your Tory  Burch ensemble to cover up your desire for nipple clamps. The brand names can only do so much ladies.
In fact, as the afternoon wore on, had there been a shred of doubt in anyone’s mind what the majority of women seated around the pool were reading, with each martini consumed, the picture became clearer and clearer.
Let’s just suffice it to say Fifty Shades, martini’s, and country club decorum don’t all blend together seamlessly. Poor Lily Pullitizer would have turned fifty shades of hot pink if she could have seen what these inhabiters of her Palm Beach prints were doing. Yes, their D.A.R. memberships may have had professional genealogical research to back them up, but by God, to hell with the Revolution, when the urge for “death by orgasm” calls, a woman must respond, Memorial Day or not.
And respond these women did.  It was a tad sobering when one woman,  having just completed book one and realizing her family was nowhere near ready to depart for the day, decided to take a dip in the pool. Unfortunately for the toddlers, the strongest jet she could find was in the baby pool. Legs splayed and head thrown back, she found her release. The poor babies, however, thought a groaning sea monster had invaded their waters.
This was nothing, however, compared to the 50-year old grandmother who, only half way through book two, decided she had to have a schlong, sooner rather than later, proceeded to climb the life guard chair, peel her knee-length skirted one-piece to the side and gleefully attempt to mount the only male life guard on the premise. “Hail to the Chief!”
Other readers I know, however, have had an array of 50 Shades mishaps shall we say and were not able to make it to the pool at all to celebrate our troops. My friend whose poor husband wasted away from the hour plus Hustler store tutorial, has now injured herself from a combination of the compulsory angle in which she has held her neck for the last three days, trying to get through book two and further complicated by the big-rabbit vibrator she bought, (hoping to “detonate” as Ana did),  which apparently had such powerful capability, she experienced a “healing cathartic orgasm”,  (and unfortunately, one that left her in a neck brace). Rumor has it though, another of our friends wound up in the ER on Memorial Eve, unable to retrieve the butt plugs she forced her husband to insert despite his protests.  I’m thinking that fine line between pleasure and pain became too much for her to bare….
All in all, it was a Memorial Day to remember.  Though it may not have appeared as if the root of the holiday was at the forefront of everyone’s mind, I think we could argue they did their best. “Onward Christian Soldiers…”
 
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Posted by on May 30, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Do you have Anastasia-Envy?

The modern woman in each of us would likely assert that our gravitation to “Fifty Shades” has nothing to do with any kind of buried envy of the protagonist. She is young, naive, and many would argue, distastefully codependent.  After all, who even contemplates signing a sex contract, having your food, your clothes, your alcohol, your sleep, your car, your dating schedule, heck even your masterbation schedule dictated? This is something Michelle, Hillary or for crying out loud, even Barbara Bush wouldn’t advocate.  The women’s movement of the 70′s fought for our rights to express, contradict, go braless and play with ourselves as we wish. Somehow I’m not thinking Gloria Steinem would have desired  Christian’s twitchy palms…..or would she??
Many of us assume roles in the bedroom outside our public personas, granted most don’t involve giving up their God-given, civil liberties, but never the less, it’s not uncommon.  But this book invites us to ask the question, “how far would you go?”
Despite our modernness, many are not only finding that question intoxicating but life altering. Unfortunately, for a certain sect of women (all my friends, I might add) their needs have become much greater than society and more importantly, their husbands, can endure. Perhaps Christian’s insistence on nutrition and personal trainers isn’t so far off after all, but who would have thought these middle aged, mini-van driving zealots would have tapped into this level of physical exertion. It’s nothing short of “Anathasia Envy” run amuck.
Granted these very  women have been in the most viscous cycle of potty training, playdate, homework hell you can imagine for the last 10 years, but their
“Envy” is over the top. They’ve lost all perspective. While their  poor husbands donned a heaven-like smile when their wives started the book, those very same men, trying their best to love, cherish and obey, have been “Fifty Shades of f****ed” to the point they are having to seek psychological therapy and physical safety.
One husband I know, peers around the bedroom door before entering to see if his wife is reading. He envisions the good ole days when the bedroom was for sleeping. His groin, so overused it’s chapped and peeling, is begging for a break.
Another poor fellow was forced to endure hour and a half personalized tutoring sessions at the Hustler Store, at the end of which his wife had maxed out her credit card and was panting and  foaming at the mouth to get him home only to find her Christian had passed out in the whip section. Despite his less than firm state, after having received her B12 shot that day, she drove his listless body home at 90 miles an hour, planning their next tryst. This poor fellow–she forced him to tie her hands to the bedpost recollecting with envy the “slam” that Anstasia received and praying hers would be as brutal (threatening to whip him with her new Williams-Sonoma sauté pan for failure to comply) and then waited. And waited. And waited. And waited. Overwhelmed by the pressure and out of refills of Viagra, he gave up, hopelessly crumbling onto the floor, knocked out cold by the thought of more Christian.
I’d say this constitutes envy all right. If we don’t find a way to tone these women down soon, these husbands are going to be mere shells of their prior selves. These fanatics have answered the question, “how far would you go?” and then some. Perhaps EL James is helping us to redefine the modern woman. With Christian in our lives, we definitely will not need hormone replacement therapy. We may not be as sexually independent as Steinem had hoped,  but clearly many a reader has proved herself more than happy to trade her feminist side for some twitchy palms any day of the week….
 
 
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Posted by on May 28, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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Poorly Written and Plotless?” Fifty Shades is anything but…..

For those of you who have read reviews of your latest obsession, you are probably aware they are not glowing. “Poorly written” and “plotless” are two common criticisms. I beg to differ.
I mean come on here, let’s be honest. Not one of us cracked the cover with the expectation of finding Shakespearean literature within. But let’s be realistic on another point too. Who needs to even ask herself  “Romeo, Romeo, where art thou Romeo”?  Once you’ve read James’s delicious description of the way Christian’s pants hang off his come hither hips, not to mention the hypnotic and sculptural quality she gives his….., you’re about as concerned with Romeo’s whereabouts as you are your 5th-grade math teacher’s.
I mean anyone who can make giving a BJ sound like visiting a confectionary shop has my respect. Heck, I’m halfway expecting to walk into my local juicery and find the “CG Special”, a creamy-colored, frothy treat, sold out no less.

And hence, back to my original point, poorly  written and plotless? This woman has captivated us. I don’t know one reader who hasn’t put their life on hold, delaying household chores, errands, friends, and yes, even their children’s needs as they lap up this book.  Dinners, homework, sports events, teacher conferences–all of it has been scheduled around the when, the where and the how of Anathasia’s latest orgasm. Wives everywhere are feeling the electric shocks of “the Christian Effect”, calling their husbands home from the office to hump like bunnies. Many of us may soon be growing long ears and a tail… And for those without easy access to their hubbies, I would venture to guess there has been quite a bit of self pleasure had. A word of advice, I would not approach a mother parked alone in a school parking lot without giving her due warning…wouldn’t want to ruin the moment.

It may not be long before we see the emergence of a “Fifty Shades” 12-step program….”yes, I am a “Fifty Shades addict”, “yes, my life has become unmanageable”, and “yes, I’m looking to my higher power to release me from the shackles (in this case, literally) of Christian Grey’s grip”. The pull of this book IS drug-like. Perhaps these critics need to hope the “CG Special” comes to their local juicery, after all, you aren’t really qualified to review a book without partaking in its “full flavor”….
 
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Posted by on May 25, 2012 in Fifty shades of grey

 

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