E.L. James and Her Limited Vocabulary

So, I’ve been reading the Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy.

Now is the designated moment when you are to think to yourself, “Ooh! I loooove those books!” or “What a waste of time.”

As I have not yet completed the series, I cannot say that I have formed a complete opinion on that subject, but it is safe to say that my preferance is leaning toward the “waste of time” choice.

I’ve been trying my darndest to forget the fact that these books were originally Twilight fan fiction. Sadly, if you take away the vampire/werewolf angle, all the reminders are there. The lead character is named Anastasia Steele (it seems E.L. has a hint of Danielle Steel’s imagination) who is a self-described plain jane. She is reminiscent of Bella Swan in the fact that she falls down alot, though she has slightly more personality- or should I say personalitieS, as she refers often to her inner goddess and subconscious as seperate entities within herself?

The question is, what makes a write like this try to make us believe that EVERY male mentioned in these books is unfailingly attracted to our main character? I understand that many men can be attracted to a somewhat normal looking gal, (as this seems to happen to me quite frequently) but really?! Not every sequal in my life is filled with another incident of would-be rape by my boss or my best male friend. And I will fully admit that not EVERY guy I come in contact with is attracted to me. There was that one guy that one time…

Moving on.

The biggest flaw I’ve noticed thusfar in these books is the repetitive mentioning of Anastasia’s love interest’s beauty. E.L. has surely gotten this idea from Stephanie Meyer. Christian Grey is described as beautiful, adonis-like, and HOT. Don’t get me wrong, but why the fuck does every main character in a book need to be so fucking perfect? Can’t they have a perfect face with an acne problem? Or maybe just a hint of a pot-belly going on? I have been in love a few times, and none of those people were exceedingly perfect to look at. Of course, if Christian Grey wasn’t so beautiful, Ana would never even look twice at him, because he is a controlling, stalkerish asshole. Do you think she would have let him spank her mercilessly if he looked like John Malkovich? I think not.

Let us not forget how “mercurial” he is. This is not in the god-like sense. It is in the “I’m bi-polar” sense. But let me just ask- what 22 year old woman describes ANYONE as mercurial? I love descriptive words, but even I would never use this one. And most definitely not repeatedly. I would instead have worded such sentences this way- “The dude once again forgot to take his meds, which caused him to be entirely too moody, and made me want to punch him.”

The thing is, I really want to like these books. The S&M factor is quite intriguing. Or at least it WOULD be, if Ana hadn’t ruined the only attribute of interest that Christian possessed. It’s not fair that because virginal Ana isn’t into caning, Christian has to put aside his darker desires. E.L. could have at least made it believable. I do not think a man who is used to beating women mercilessly is really going to be satisfied with a little spanking here and there. He sounds hardly more adventurous than my Rockstar after he’s gotten into the Jim Beam.  I think a prequal based on Christian’s Red Room of Pain BEFORE he met Ana would be much more interesting.

Also, I would like to point out that a woman does NOT come every time a guy says, “Come for me, baby.” And a man does not always come at the exact moment that the woman he’s fucking comes. It would be more believable if he came right in the middle of her orgasm and pulled out, leaving her to finish up her orgasm manually while yelling, “You fucker! You never wait for me!”

That’s all I have to say about that.

Smut III

Part 3 of Smut 1 and 2…

Linnea writhed in agony. A mewling sound escaped her lips, and Jess watched in amusement as Linnea struggled against her bonds. Tears of frustration seeped through Linnea’s blindfold, and the salty taste mingled with the remnants of Jess’s kisses on her lips.

“Perhaps you will think twice the next time you let your eyes wander, hmm?” From what Linnea could tell, Jess was across the room now, and even through her tears, she noticed that Jess’s accent had thickened as it did when she was impassioned.

“Is that what you want? A man?”

Though the question was asked harshly, Jess couldn’t keep the hurt from her voice.

“Do you think a man can please you better than I?”

Linnea’s voice broke as she denied the accusation. The man Jess had caught her watching was a stranger, and she had been attracted to him. She had wondered what it would have been like to have him fuck her. Linnea begged for forgiveness, begging to be untied so that she could show her devotion. She paused when she felt the bed dip slightly.

Then a cock was buried inside her, and the force with which she was impaled took her breath away.

Linnea was stunned. She couldn’t believe Jess would allow a man access to her body, but then she felt her hair being grabbed in a fist, and she recognized Jess’s grip. She realized that Jess was wearing a strap-on, and relief flooded over her.

“I hope you understand what it is you wanted.” The whisper was threatening, and then Jess began to move.

Her thrusts were so forceful, they nearly lifted Linnea off of the bed. Linnea cried out at each one, her pleasure mounting. She was unable to move; the scarves were still tightly knotted, and the grip Jess had on her hair was bending her torso back. She could do nothing but enjoy the intese pleasure coursing through her body.

When the long-awaited orgasm came, Linnea squealed in pleasure. Jess did not stop thrusting. Almost immediately, a second orgasm racked Linnea’s body; Jess plunged the imitation cock in harder.

Jess fucked Linnea without mercy. She had reverted to her native language of French, and though the words were foreign to her, Linnea understood their meaning. She belonged to no one else.

Exquisite Pain

For my post title, I was going to steal the title from a Sex and the City episode, but that would border on plagiarism, so I put the English version of it. 🙂 Tricky me. No this post is NOT about S&M, and how I liked to get spanked,(god, you have no idea!) but about the fact that I have a new pair of “tallest shoes”, and how I am sure to be a cripple by the time I’m 50.

I suppose my first pair of heels were the chunky Mary Janes my fashionable friends convinced me to buy when I was 16. They were so beautiful; little flowers were embroidered along the toe and down the heel, and I wore them until they broke. (Sad day.)  I have not stopped buying heels since. The height of my addiction was when I kept paying off my Victoria’s Secret card, and they conveniently kept raising my credit limit, and happened to mail me a new shoe catalogue at least twice a week. (Bastards!) $2800 later, my good credit score is replaced with 13 pairs of fabulous shoes that I, in no way, can use as collateral in buying a house. Victoria took away my credit card, but I have figured out other ways to feed my obsession.

I get the most notice of my shoes at church, and no Sunday is complete without a white-haired elderly person exclaiming, “Oh! Look at your shoes! How can you walk in those! My feet would be killing me!” I assure them that my feet do not suffer (much) because I take my shoes off while I’m at the piano, and only extensive hours in said shoes cause discomfort.

On the way to visit my brother, I accidentally (on purpose) stopped at a store to look for a new pair of heels. After all, it’s been over a month since I’ve bought a pair… Anyhoo, I walked in and my eyes were immediately drawn to a pair of 6″ leopard-print booties with patent leather heels (Hallelujah! I have seen the light!) I rushed to them and tried them on, admiring them as I sauntered back and forth in front of the store’s little shoe mirrors. I looked at the price tag- $22.98?! What madness is this?! A breathtaking pair of shoes for under $30?!  I restrained myself from buying 3 other pairs of shoes, (becuase I don’t need my Rockstar’s Daughter saying again, “You bought ANOTHER pair of shoes? I don’t think Dad wants that many shoes in his closet.”) And I glided out to my car with my purchase and proceeded to decorate my feet with my new shoes. I then was off to my brother’s.

During the day, my brother and I ventured to a few stores, and ended up at my fave, Half-Priced Books. At each stop we made, I looked down at my new shoes and thought, “They are so PRETTY! I can’t stop looking at them!” and the Click click click of my stillettos as I walked through stores sent a chill straight to my nether-regions. Now I will tell you a secret.

What no one will mention about high heels is that they are really meant for fashion shoot photos only. As in, minimal walking required. Because after 2 or 3 hours of standing, walking, or running in heels, a person’s back begins to bunch up, their legs begin to spasm, and their feet (if feet had voices) begin to scream, “You bitch!!! Your killing me!” I am convinced every woman that’s worn heels for an entire day would concur. Back to my story.

As I was click click clicking my way through the bookstore, I noticed that my feet were beginning to ache. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, trying to alleviate the pain, but to no avail. At one point, I even sat on the floor of the store, using the excuse that I was looking at the Larry McMurtry books on the bottom shelve.( It’s true) As we left, my brother walked ahead of me to the car as I stumbled along in my 6″ torture devices, trying desperately to keep up the appearance that my shoes were fucking fabulous. When we arrived back at his house, I let out a huge sigh of relief when I unzipped my new booties and flung them away from me.

Yes, how silly of me to keep buying shoes that after a few hours of wearing feel as though I’m walking on sharpened bowie knives. However, as any masochist, I am addicted to the equisite pain of showing off gorgeous shoes, and when I am forced to cruise around in a scooter because of the extensive damage my heel wearage has caused to my body, I will continue to make a fashion statement.