I said I wouldn’t do it. The first time around it made me so angry, so irritated and generally brought about such a sense of despair for both humanity and reasonably decent sentence structure that I decided that would be the end of it.
But it’s been two years. And recently my curiosity woke up from beneath her fur-lined blanket, peered over her horn-rimmed glasses and poked me in the side, to borrow and paraphrase a fucking awful literary device familiar to many.
I read the first chapter of Fifty Shades Darker. And it was exactly as terrible as I expected. If not more so.
Weirdly, the very next day, the first trailer for the film was released. (Which I've already talked about over on Beaut.ie) And now I kinda feel compelled to point out, in detail, how outrageously stupid the second book is. It would seem that I can’t read about that particular horrible relationship without grabbing it and tearing it to pieces through the means of swearing and gifs and caps lock.
I know a lot of people are over Fifty Shades and all it entails and don’t want to hear any more about it, and I completely and entirely get that. However, I’m just doing this for my own amusement and if anyone wants to join me on this second little odyssey of anguish, then super. I’m going to try not to let it take over the entire blog (and my life) this time around, so I will hopefully have other things to talk about in between angry recap posts.
Fifty Shades of Tedious Fuckery 2: Coming soon.
And frequently. A lot like Ana Steele, really.
Wish me luck.