I have been trying to read 50 Shades of Grey for nearly two months now. I'm doing some research. Really. I'm not embarrassed to say I read crap. Anyone who knows me will vouch for this: my crap to decent ratio is about 2:1. I seek it out. I like it. But this thing. Two lines in and all I can think is: I'm out. I've read the sex parts, I know my buttons will get pushed, but ugh, what I have to go through to get there.
My Gram used to read books like this. She had stacks (stacks!) next to her bed. This was back in the day when Fabio was on the cover so it was easier to make fun of.
Ooo, Gram's dreaming about Fabio!
It's a good book, she'd say
Heaving breasts! we'd say, Quivering swords!
It's on the New York Times Best Seller List, she'd say; bless her, having to explain herself to a gang of annoying, disrespectful idiots.
Ooo New York Times! Best Seller!
Poor Gram, couldn't get her groove on in peace.