I just threw up a little.

So, I finally read Fifty Shades of Grey, because I am so current and all.

I hated it.  It may be the worst book I've ever read, even though I couldn't stop reading it.  It's like I had to finish it, just so it could be over and I could move on with my life.  Plus, I really wanted to see what all the hype was about since so many people are so madly in love with this book. 

I still don't get it.  Yeah, some of the sex was hot.  Mostly, it was just awful and borderline battering and I wanted to vomit.  Not in a good way.  Is there a good way?  I don't even know what's normal anymore after reading this book. 

Thanks to The Beast, MB can attest to the un-sexiness of vomiting.  He has had to endure my retching on many occasions.  Trust me, it never makes his palm twitch or his inner goddess swoon. 

If my husband had any interest in trying out some Fify Shades shenanigans, he would probably tie me up and blindfold me.  Then, he would release an army of spiders and giggle away while I screamed for my life. 

I'm pretty sure that would backfire on him because I would vomit.  Just the thought of all those spiders makes me a little nauseous now. 

Yeah.  We won't be acting out anything Fifty related anytime soon. 

Also, for any of you Fifty Fanatics out there who may come to my house someday, please take note that my bedroom has always been painted red.  It has absolutely nothing to do with these atrocious books. 

The balls on the floor?  Those are dog toys, assholes. 

Gross.