Friday, April 27, 2012

Fifty shades of no way






Have you heard about this so-called “dirty” book called Fifty Shades of Grey? It’s about some dude named Grey who apparently gets uneven tans…scratch that…is moody and bossy.

Nevertheless, he sets off this gal’s chimes by sitting there breathing and looking at her with his grey eyes.

Seriously, I haven’t read it. But my sister did and she tells it funnier than the author meant it—although I assume a third-grade reading level book about some college girl who signs a contract agreeing to be abused by some steel-eyed know-it-all is a joke. It is, right? RIGHT?

I guess sadomasochism means you can have sex and say you had no choice—hey, handcuffs, check it out.

My sister says she has perfected the One-Week Orgasm—settle down, it doesn’t last a week, it just takes a week of this and that to set it off.

I remember when The Story of O came out—I saw the movie with a friend. O is blindfolded, whisked to a mysterious destination, plopped over an ottoman (the footstool, pottymind) and my friend said, “I am too young for this.” About 10 minutes later, she leaned over again. “I am now too old for this.”

Surprise—this is suddenly a trilogy. Hey, get the bucks, lady. You can get some studmuffin to come over and spank you.

I don’t even like someone telling me to empty the dishwasher—imagine my unerotic reaction when ordered to do it naked.

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