I have to tell you, reader, I was warned about this book. Sure, I expected a difficult road. After all, I’d been through 50 Shades of Grey. But this book. This. Book. Ms. Ana Bobanaball Steele’s memoirs are just pages, just so many pages, with random words but nothing happening. And by nothing, I mean, once again . . .
No, seriously, not funnin’ here. It’s the same thing, over, and over, and over. For pages, and pages, and pages, and pages, and pages and pages and arghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Excuse me. We are halfway through here. I’m stocked up on alcohol. Time to interview someone. And then go stick my head in a toilet and die. Next up is – Jesus hates me more than you will know, guys. It’s Mrs. Robinson.
Alice: Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson.
Mrs. Robinson: My name is Elena. Isn’t it a little early to be drinking hard liquor?
Alice: Nooope. So. You were friends with Christian’s mom, right?
Mrs. Robinson: Yes, that is correct.
Alice: So you thought, hey, since we’re such good friends, she probably wouldn’t mind if I used her 15 year old as my sex slave and beat the snot out of him and sexed him up and just generally screwed with his mind for years. What are friends for, right? Right?
Mrs. Robinson: I do believe you’re drunk.
Alice: I am not nearly drunk enough, lady. Let’s get on with it. You are still, uh, friends with Christian and own a business with him. Naturally. And you just show up randomly on his doorstop for kicks?
Mrs. Robinson: It was not random. I am being blackmailed!
Alice: By who?
Mrs. Robinson: I do not know. I came to Christian for advice.
Alice: That actually kind of makes sense, considering. Bet Ana got her knickers in a twist. That’s a Britishism you know, for underwear.
Mrs. Robinson: I just don’t know about that Ana. She hurt my Christian!
Alice: Riiiight. And only you get to do that! With a flogger, am I right?
Mrs. Robinson: Tut tut. Only the best riding crops for my sex slaves.
Alice: So sorry, my mistake. So you came over just to talk about someone blackmailing you. That it?
Mrs. Robinson: Well, yes.
Alice: Not. Good. Enough. Plot. You need to have something to do with the plot. There should be a plot. Where is the plot? Where is ittttttttt????????
Mrs. Robinson: How many drinks have you had now?
Alice: Never-you-mindeh that. Okay, so you hates Ana. Big whoopeh. So dooo we alls. Do you wanta kill hersh? Cause, cause I knowth some peoples can helps wit that.
Mrs. Robinson: I don’t want to kill anybody. Who do you think I am?
Alice: Child molessssttteh. Or somethink. Yous shouldth find um that um Leila! Yeah, Yeah! And Jacker, Jack Hyde!
Mrs. Robinson: Oh, I know Jack Hyde. I used to screw with him too.
Alice: Wait. Did . . . Jamesth writes that? Can’t ‘member.
Mrs. Robinson: Well, no, but it only makes sense. Anyway, Jack told me she is a terrible employee. A week on the job and not a single blowjob in sight. So hard to find good help these days! She emailed Christian a lot – ohhh, he just writes the sexiest emails.
Alice: I hahhhhve a game. You drink – whens they emails. Issth so great.
Mrs. Robinson: Ah, but I’m getting off track. I just put a little camera in Ana’s hair clip. That way I can watch Ana and make sure she doesn’t hurt my poor widdle Christi-poo.
Alice: Drinksss for stalkings! Wooot!
Mrs. Robinson: Yes, the camera is handy. Well, except for the sex. They had sex on the piano, which I do not think is the proper way to play that instrument.
Alice: Drinksss for sexxxy timesssss!
Mrs. Robinson: Anyway, they spoke on the phone, and they argued playfully, and Ana’s friend Kate’s brother came and he was so gorgeous, of course, and all the girls were jealous and naturally he was in love with Ana, because for some reason all men are.
Alice: Drinkkksss for mens in loves with Ana!
Mrs. Robinson: Ana had some more useless conversations, and then she and Christian and Ethan and the security team went to Ana’s apartment and here is where it gets exciting! Alice, wake up. I think you’re about to pass out.
Alice: Wh-what? Excitings?
Mrs. Robinson: Yes. When Ana walked in her apartment, there was Leila. With a gun!
Alice: Heeeere’s to Leila!
Mrs. Robinson: Alice . . . hmm, I’ll just let you take that little nap on the floor, then.*
* That was a nice nap. Bitchin’ headache later, though. I might need hard drugs for the next chapter.