“I am wearing my favorite jeans today, too. Most of the women in the office wear either jeans or floaty skirts. I will need to invest in a floaty skirt or two.”
What did I just say?
Seriously, man, I don’t care if the women in your office come to work in frilly tutus and sequin pasties, if it’s not relevant information then don’t fucking tell me.
Also, no. You’re wearing jeans. Most of them wear jeans or skirts. That does not mean you need floaty skirts, because you are already fitting in with the dress norms.
“I grin at the mirror and straighten my pale blue shirt—the one Taylor bought me.”
Show of hands. Does anyone give a flying fuck?
“It’s the Christian Grey effect. A little e-mail sparring with him will do that to a girl.”
Dude, you sent about three emails which, even by your lacklustre standards, weren’t even a little bit sharp, witty, or combative. The height of them was your insistence that a bar called Fifty’s is funny.
So, uh, yeah. You know how I keep saying words mean stuff? Phrases also imply stuff. This one implies hella wrongly.
Christian Grey Poetry
i hate my life
my mom is a bitch
in fact she was
now i like to
fuck brunette girls too
my therapist sees
wrong with me
i am too
i am too
i am too
for my shirt
take yours off
or else i will
under the guise of
and i will
buy you things
even if you say no
consent is optional
it is too
and i want to bite into it
email me back
i am the sun
and you are icarus
fly close to me babe
i will show you just how hot
“I check myself in the mirror.”
Of course you do. It’s the only way E.L. knows to describe how you’re looking at the moment.
Sorry, this is not at all related to 50 Shades but...you have classes on a bank holiday? The actual fuck!? And I thought my university was evil for starting term on the 2nd of January when everyone was incredibly hungover. You have my deepest sympathies.
And a test responsible for 20% of my marks in the same week. :D
…I don’t like this university.
Anyway, thanks. I’m mostly answering this publicly to let you know that I’m starting to get myself back on my feet. I’ll try and stick a few posts in the queue when I get back from my doctor’s appointment this afternoon, and then (fingers crossed!) all will proceed as normal.
I am super-annoyed about this, because I was just starting to get back in the swing of this blog, BUT
turns out classes started a day earlier than I thought so today, which I was going to spend on building up a queue (well, that and hitting the books because I’m still working on an essay here), is now taken up by OH SHIT I HAVE LECTURES SHITSHITSHIT WHERE ARE MY FOLDERS WHERE IS MY TEXTBOOK WHAT THE FUCK SHIT WHO STARTS THEIR TERM ON A BANK HOLIDAY?
sooo basically I am once again in the doghouse with no built-up queue
mea maxima culpa my friends
I shall return as soon as I can.
“Sooners rather than laters, baby.”
oh dear god he found a way to make it worse
“We are going to a bar called Fifty’s.
The rich seam of humor that I could mine from this is endless.”
No it isn’t.
It ended approximately two words after it began, and elicited a short chuckle from you and nobody else.
“I make my way to the powder room”
Is this an Americanism that E.L. knows and I don’t, or is this just another sign that this book was written by someone a generation and a half older than the character?
Because, um, I can’t imagine any 21-year-old in 2012 calling the loo a goddamn “powder room”
“What would you like to drink?”
“A beer please.”
That’s, um… not very specific?
"A beer please"? Maybe it’s because I’m English, or because I used to work in a pub, but that just seems bloody useless to me. How much beer? A half, a pint, a pitcher?
A fucking beer. Jesus Christ.
“I’d love to. What’s the bar called?”
I will actually stab something in a moment, I fucking swear down.
“We usually like to go for a quick one at the bar across the street.”
(this is the best “Well…" gif I had)
“Promptly at five thirty, Jack is at my desk.”
Is it just me, or is this a really awkward construction?
idk I would have put the clauses the other way around
“Your e-mails at SIP are monitored.”
I have a couple of questions.
How do you know this? Why are you telling her this NOW, and OVER EMAIL? Also, if you knew they were monitored, WHY THE FUCK DID YOU KEEP INITIATING FLIRTING/SEXY TALK OVER EMAIL?
Tearing apart the fastest-selling book on record, one kinkshaming, poorly-worded, unintentionally hilarious line at a time.
This blog's OTP is Kate/Anastasia, and it fervently believes that Christian is secretly Batman. There is no reason for this.
I use gifs a lot, so this page is probably not epilepsy-safe.
50 Shades of Asking Stuff
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