So Just Fab sent me an email that said, “Shades of Grey, how can you resist?”
Just Watch me, Just Fab.
I tried to go into (if you’ll pardon the pun) reading “50 Shades of Grey” with an open mind.
My open mind quickly slammed shut.
I lasted right until Anastasia met Christian. Not nearly as classic as the When Scarlett met Rhett, but much sexier than when Ahab met Moby.
I was amazed.
I am still amazed at how a book that started out as Twilight Fan Fiction (yes really) turned into the huge, money making trilogy that it has become.
It reads like something a gifted sixth grader with a very dirty mind and access to Literotica would create with too much time on their hands and possibly no friends on this plane of existence.
It frustrates me because there are so many good examples of Erotic Literature that are actually well written.
I am also jealous because nothing that I have written has ever taken off like that.
A student asked me if I wanted to be rich and famous. I have to say that I seriously don’t know. Right now, all I want is for someone to come clean and organize my house. And that can wait until after I have gotten a massage all without having to expend any additional energy.
I would like to have the kind of security that would allow me to be thought of as eccentric and not just plain nuts.
Because then I could maybe wear my Sock Monkey pants all of the time. They are so old they have faded to a shade of grey.
And we’re back.