I finally saw Fifty Shades of Grey. Not that I’m late to the party or anything. Not me.
Before you take away my slut cred, I only watched it because I have to write about it for work. Why are you looking at me like that? It’s true. I’m a purist. I only watch sexy BDSM movies like The Piano Teacher and Nymphomaniac. I didn’t enjoy Fifty Shades one little bit. Not for a second.
Me (halfway through Fifty Shades):
Don’t tell a soul but I’m enjoying this movie.
I’m totes renting a skywriter to tell everyone you like this movie.
Okay, fine, I said that, but that’s because the movie fooled me into thinking something hot was going to happen. How could I not with that playroom in the picture? Did something hot happen? Nope. There was not a single hot scene. Not even one.
Me: (while the credits role)
One hot scene and then she leaves. After an hour and a half of consent crap.
Hearing you say consent crap cracks me up.
I didn’t fucking write that message. The blog fairies added it to this post. It’s a new kind of site glitch.
Okay, fine, I wrote that. Don’t take away my SJW badge, but the entire movie was a bunch of posturing over a stupid fucking contract. Christian Grey wasn’t even good looking.
I found one good song in the soundtrack, though. I suppose you’d call that a boobie prize, but after watching Anastasia’s breasts get a collective 45 minutes of screen time, I need to expunge the word ‘boob’ from my vocabulary for at least a year.
This morning I found out there will be a sequel. I guess that means there might be some more not-at-all-hot belt scenes on the way, which means I need to do one of two things:
-1) Tell the DVD store guy that I have to write about Fifty Shades of Grey 2
-2) Tell the DVD store guy that I enjoyed the movie.
I think I’ll choose option one.
I loved Fifty Shades of Grey. Loved it. It’s by far the best movie I’ve ever seen. I loved it more than chocolate.
She didn’t really say that. No, really, she didn’t.