50 Shades of Don't Waste Your Time

Let's talk about 50 Shades of Grey for a minute. Maybe a couple of minutes. I read this book (and the two that came after it). I know, I'm hanging my head in shame. I'm normally pretty strong about not reading the hot new thing in books (except for Harry Potter... and Twilight... and Hunger Games...), but Amazon was having a three-for-one sale and I gave in. Sorry, I'm not sorry, except that I kind of am. Sorry, that is. This book was terrible. I mean it. 

First of all, they call it mommy porn for a reason. It is definitely porn-o-graphic. If you're a Puritan or a Jehovah's Witness, this is not the book for you. Probably Southern Baptists, too.

Secondly, the trilogy started as Twilight fan fiction; I really didn't enjoy the Twilight books, so I don't know why I thought I'd enjoy this series. (Confession: I only liked a lot, not loved, the Hunger Games trilogy. I know, I'm a horrible person.) 

Thirdly, the writing is just Gawd-awful. The main character has just graduated college and has neither a smartphone nor her own laptop. This is 2011; what kid doesn't have a smartphone or a laptop (insert desktop or iPad if that's easier to swallow)? And don't get me started on Ana Steele's inner goddess and/or her subconscious; her inner goddess is a tart and her subconscious is a school marm. She literally has named the voices in her head. I cringe thinking about it. Maybe she's Schizophrenic.

Fourthly, Christian Grey, the mysterious protagonist, is really just a creepy stalker. He randomly shows up on her family trip; he wants her to sign a contract to be a sex slave; he has her followed; he wants her to sign a contract to be a sex slave; he bugs her email; he wants her to sign a contract... you get the point.

In fact, I'm going to tell you what happens, minus all the S&M stuff. Ana and Christian meet, they fight, things get weird, they have sex, they date, they have sex, they break up, they have sex, they get back together, they have sex, Christian has a helicopter accident, they have sex, they get married, they have sex, she gets a stalker, they have sex, the stalker gets arrested, they have sex, they move into a new house, they have sex, they have two kids, they have sex, and they live happily ever after. The end.

You're welcome.

Karyn's Wedding

I made some of my very best friends while working in my previous job, and I'm lucky enough to still call them friends instead of merely former co-workers. One of these former co-workers, who is also my friend, was married on Cinco de Mayo of this year. Karyn is a great gal, and I'm so glad that I was able to attend her wedding, since technically I was already supposed to be in Chicago for work.

The wedding was a reunion of sorts for several of us who had taken different jobs, but all met while working in one particular department at one particular organization. It was great fun, with lots of dancing and singing and reminiscing and shoe-switching (thank you, Amy).

Amy also wears a size 8 shoe. Thank goodness.

Former co-workers. And friends.

Hello Again

Well, this is how it happens, right? You're bopping along, thinking to yourself, "Hey, maybe I should fire up the ol' blog." You dismiss the idea for the time-being, thinking, "The whole reason I let it hibernate was that I didn't have enough time to devote to it, maybe I should not get too overzealous about getting it going again."

Then, I think that statement through and think it sounds stupid and kind of self-important, like, "Hey, my blog is so amazing that it takes a lot, I mean a lot, of time and effort to update." That's not really true, especially for this lil blog o' mine; I see something that I think is neat/funny/pretty/interesting, and I write about it. I mean, really, you make time for what you think is important.

Anyway, I put it off because May 4 was a long time ago and SO MUCH (again with the self-importance) has happened since then that I can't possibly update you on everything.  

THEN, I read the much-maligned New York Times op-ed about the busy trap* and think to myself, "Hey, I am busy. We are busy. Ain't nothing wrong with that." (Except, really, I'd never say ain't. If you think I'd ever say ain't, then you don't really know me at all.)

THEN, within a seven day time period, three different people (fine, one of them was my mother) mentioned my blog to me and how they think I should fire it up again, and again I think, "Hey, maybe I should fire up the ol' blog." So, half-asleep on a Monday trying not to think about shit I need to do and instead thinking about shit I want to do, I think, "Might as well start now."

*I didn't necessarily agree nor disagree with the opinion presented in the busy trap. Mainly what I thought was that the guy was short on story ideas, wrote about how his friend ditched him (see paragraph 3), and turned it into an entire piece. Also, I fully confess here and now that I have definitely used the busy excuse to get out of an undesirable task/event/appointment/what-have-you. Sorry, I'm not sorry.