The Bulge: 50 Shades of Budgie Ranting
We are still days away from the premier of the 50 Shades of Grey (or is it Gray?) movie, and I am already sick and tired of fucking hearing about it. Before you read the rest of my “review”, please keep in mind that I did not see this movie, did not watch the trailer, did not read the book, did not bother to learn the characters names, and have no intention on doing any of that at any part of my life. Also, I’m not happy that this is forcing me to interrupt my posting of my Spider-Man fan fiction, STING!, to write this. Here we go.
During the run of a children’s movie, the theater employees have to go in afterwards to clean up all the dirty diapers lazy mothers leave behind. During 50 Shades of Vibrating Milfs, I foresee the ushers having to clean up the piles of D batteries from where they gather at the bottom of the theater like the towers that WALL-E built.
So what do I know about this movie? I know it’s based on a book that’s based on a fan fiction that’s based on twilight. So this is essentially one woman’s rape fantasy who was a stong proponent of #TeamEdward (squeeee!). I bet she’s fat. Fat as fuck. I’m going to google her picture right now. Hold on a second… Ha ha. She is fat! She looks like Jabba The Hut mated with Delta Burke and squirted out a sex-crazed young adult literature fan. And her name is E. L. James. Might as well be E. L. Fudge. I can’t be the first one to make that joke, and I don’t care. Fucking perverted blob of a woman.
So I’ve heard the hype from my coworkers. My coworkers are mostly male, so the hype is how they are taking their wives to see this movie so they can get laid after it transforms their loins into a frothy, catfish-scented mess. I’m of the opinion that if you need 50 Shades of Masturbating Grandmas to get laid, then you need to turn in your dick. Overweight plumbers and electricians everywhere are going to climb atop their wives as they close their eyes, picturing a twenty-something year old millionaire that likes to tie bitches up and whip the piss out of them. Also, your wife doesn’t love you anymore.
So what else have I heard about this movie? My mother told me there’s a scene where this Grey dude eats ice cream from this chick’s gash, and she found it very unrealistic. She said the ice cream would go bad because of the heat of her throbbing womanhood. I concur, but I wish she didn’t tell me in front of my daughter.
I also heard (from many people) that it’s a very poorly written pornographic book series. I’ve read some bad erotica (very recently), but nothing as bad as what’s been described to me about these books. “Down there”. Really? Yeah. This chick calls her vagina “down there” on an almost constant basis. I was assured that the script for the movie would be much better, making 50 Shades of Moist Depends the first movie to actually be better than the book it’s based on since Return of the King.
Then there’s the rape vs. BDSM argument that exploded on twitter for three minutes yesterday morning while I was pooping at work. I guess this Mr. Grey is pretty much raping this chick after she says no. I saw the special episodes of Saved By The Bell. This is rape, you ding-dongs. The argument from the fans of this book is that it’s a tale of Grey’s redemption from his love of this virgin chick he forces his bondage on. That’s it women! You can change a man! Sure he’s a rapist sex addict, but you can change him with a little love! That was heavy sarcasm, dummies. #YesAllWomen this movie ain’t.
The worst part of all this is what’s going to happen later on. Nine months from now, there’s going to be a slew of Facebook and infotainment articles about all of the “50 Shades Babies” born from all the hot, dry sex that is going to occur during the run of this soft-porn excuse for cinema. I hope their not vaccinated too. Keep this article for your records and mark your calendar for end of November / start of December, so we can all be disgusted all over again, together.
Let’s conclude this disaster of a movie review before my dick turns inside out and rapes my stomach. 50 Shades of Grey is a trashy movie adaptation of a trashy book written by a trashy pig of a woman who wants to be forcefully nailed by the girly vampires from that trashy book, Twilight. I was sick of hearing about these books, and I’m sicker hearing about the movie. I hope your moms enjoy it.