Wait, WHAT?

Um, I don’t know how I’m just now finding out about this but apparently there is a Fifty Shades of Grey classical album.  I imagine it’s just the music they use for Cinemax porn on a continuous loop.  As I write this, I am sitting here simultaneously trying to not cry, vomit, or choke on my own bile.

E.L. James celebrated the release with a Q & A (involving handcuffs, natch) at the Soho House in NYC.  Classy.

I have remained steadfast in my refusal to read the Twilight series (from which this bottom-feeding garbage called 50 Shades of I am physically ill was spawned).  My mom, bless her heart, read the first one, so she could relate better to her teenage girls (she’s a pediatric nurse practitioner) and said the first one was so BAD she couldn’t bring herself to read the rest.  Actual quote:  “if I had to read that he turned pale and gripped something ONE MORE TIME, I was going to scream!  Can’t you use a different description?”

So, the fact that Fifty Shades of I don’t give a flying fuck was Twilight FAN FICTION made it an automatic “no'” in my book.  I mean, some Twihard in a chat room wrote this complete garbage that has been a bestseller for 30 weeks, is getting turned into a movie, and now has a soundtrack.  She’s like a pornographic Danielle Steel.

And here it is, still a New York Times bestseller because why WOULDN’T we want to read about a girl who values herself so little that she engages in freaky sadomasochistic sex with some rich dude who is too beautiful to leave until she leaves him and then maybe comes back?  I’m not sure.  Because I haven’t read them.  Although, maybe, similar to my plan for the next Bachelor, I SHOULD read this garbage so I can review it on my own and actually KNOW what I’m trashing rather than trash it based on concept alone.

Someone, I can’t remember who, directed me to THIS BRILLIANT review (aptly titled 50 Shades of WTF)

The chick who wrote this is hysterical and I would like to share my favorite excerpt below:

Now I’ll be totally honest, the biggest issue I have with Fifty Shades of Shit is neither the sex nor the horrible writing. It’s the plot. Thin as it is, it’s still there, its core message being that, given enough time, you can change someone. While I don’t have any problem with this if all you’re trying to do is help them to lose weight or quit smoking, when you’re talking about an emotionally and (dangerously close to) physically abusive relationship, sending that kind of message is ridiculous and irresponsible. Christian is controlling, possessive, condescending, and cruel. He doesn’t allow Ana to behave as she normally would, and Ana just puts up with it, insistent that if she can give him what he wants, when he wants, as often as he wants, she can eventually begin to pull his strings. Will it work? In the books, probably. In real life? No. Almost never. How many idiotic, weak women are going to waste their lives on some emotionally retarded prick because they’ve read shit like this and think this kind of fucked-up fairytale will come true for them? I’ve known women with this mentality. “Oh, he’s so dark and dangerous and threatening, but he’s got a sad, lonely side, and if I could just figure out what’s wrong, I could change him!”

I know this sentiment all too well, specifically with John Doe, thinking that if I loved him enough, I could change him and make him realize that he DID actually want to be in a relationship and eventually marry me rather than kicking me out of his apartment at three in the morning.  At least this Christian dude lets what’s-her-name spend the night (I’m assuming.  But not sure).  But you can’t change a person that hates themselves so much that they can’t help but hate the people who love them (shut up, that makes sense).  So the fact that this concept within the book has women foaming at the mouth and talking about this being some amazing love story is troublesome, to say the least.

But, my apprehension getting the better of me (as in, do I REALLY want to subject myself to this complete mess of a trilogy, I googled “50 Shades of Grey excerpts” and came across this:

” ‘Why don’t you like to be touched?’ I whisper, staring up into soft gray eyes. ‘Because I’m fifty shades of fucked up, Anastasia.’ ” (369)

No.  No no no no and did I mention NO?  It’s pretty safe to say that my original assessment that these books are steaming piles of garbage is accurate and I don’t need to read them to prove to myself that I would HATE them.