50 Shades of Grey is a nightmare of a book. It haunts me. I hate it to such a degree that if I see some idiot reading it on the train/plane/street I have to actually restrain myself from slapping the offending book out of their hands and stamping on it. Obviously that would cause more problems for me than it would solve if I chose to do it while cruising at 20,000 feet, but honestly, I think the end would justify the means. I'd at least get a little newspaper article about it where I could say, on the record: "I genuinely felt for the long-term mental health of the woman in question. I wasn't in any way trying to harm her. I was trying to save her. I'm Batman."
I meant to start this entry with a sort of 'do no harm' self-edict, but then I went on a tangent about destroying books, so that's bang out of the window. LOOK, I get that some people like these atrocious books. I get that some people are fanwanking over who may or may not play Christian Grey in a fucking abhorrent movie. I get that. And that's actually okay. Clearly I'm not going to be able to convince all these people that the books are poison and EL James is actually a low-tier demon sent to spread sedition and subtly vilify the BDSM community. So long as you don't make me listen to you talk about how much you love the books, and how that guy from White Collar would be ermagurd the best Fifty ever, then we're okay. If I can't see it, I can pretend it doesn't exist.
With this in mind, I may have to delete my Facebook account, because THIS? THIS, PEOPLE? THIS IS NOT ACCEPTABLE AND I NEED YOU TO EXPLAIN THIS BULLSHIT:
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Are those.. are there stains? |
UGH. CHRIST. I don't have enough expletives in my vocabulary to explain my reaction to this popping up on my Facebook news feed. I want to die.
It probably tastes like bodywash.