You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s Crazy™
50 Shades of vomit.
1st the book. Now the movie.
I just hurled my lunch over my brand new dress shoes.
Damn.
50 Shades of Grey; It’s a freight train of unchecked publicity. The world has gone 50 shades of crazy.
Peace in the Middle East wouldn’t generate this type of buzz.
Jesus could come back to Earth with Elvis and Beethoven and I don’t think anyone would notice this weekend.
Even Isis leaders took time off from beheadings to give the salacious movie two thumbs up.
Is the movie good? I’d say no.
Is the marketing machine a non stop Technicolor fart of temporary insanity?
He who smelt it dealt it.
50 shades of unbridled national enthusiasm. It’s a cinematic hard on probing into a theater near you.
It’s a woman thing, I guess.
It’s nothing new. Daniele Steele got women hot. Rosemary Rogers got them agitated.
Now it’s 50 shades of erotic.
I wouldn’t be caught dead in the theater. If I saw one of my buddies going to 50 shades of embarrassment, I would laugh him into the stone age.
“What the hell Earl? You going to see 50 shades of Grey? You bring your tissues? A tampon? Did you get your nails done.”
Men would rather go see sponge bob square pants or American Sniper for the 3rd time.
Women? Who the hell knows. Even women can’t understand women.
50 Shades of chick flick.
It’s hot and sexy and safe because it isn’t real.
Mr. Right, Mr. Rich, Mr. sexy.
It’s a pumpkin pulling up to the ball and Cinderella losing a glass slipper.
Fantasy?
You women love fairy tales.
Then 50 shades of real life interjects itself.
Just as Mr. Grey is getting down on one knee to propose, the dryer breaks and the handyman with his pronounced butt crack is ringing the bell.
50 shades of ass crack.
Now that’s real life.
Every day this week, I have been subjected to 50 shades of marketing mischief. I have seen stories about Grey babies born during the height of the book. I have seen stories about women’s groups protesting the film.
The more I see the trailer, the more times I have to deal with the bile seeping into my mouth.
The thought of the movie makes me want to spit more times than a teeth cleaning.
A co-worker saw the film.
“He is terrible,” she says. “Totally miscast. He doesn’t deliver. People in the audience were laughing.”
“Really!!!!!” The other girls bellow in unison.
It’s as if someone just told them the Easter Bunny doesn’t really hide eggs.
OMG
I’m watching this estrogen fest with amusement.
What did you girls expect. It’s a movie. It can only be rated R.
Anything more than that and it severely limits its audience and subsequently its cash pipe line.
R is R.
You can only show so much.
If you want 50 shades of Gray the hard way, then go down to your XXX theater. Just be careful where you step.
Hopefully after this Valentines Day weekend, 50 Shades blows it cinematic load and goes soft and leaves the theater.
Then you can take your 50 shades of marketing madness and shove it into a black hole of who cares.
My review, having never seen the movie or read the book? 50 shades of sad, 50 Shades of enough all ready.
50 shades of anal warts sounds more appealing than sitting through 2 hours of this harlequin hell.
Critiquing something you have not seen or sampled is really ridiculous.
It’s like saying spinach is bad having never eaten it.
It’s like saying I wouldn’t wear a Dickie having never stared at myself in the mirror wearing a dikie.
Who knows. Maybe my reflection stares back at me and says “Hey boy. You wear that Dickie well.”
I just know that something bad stirs in my soul when the words 50 and shades and gray are all uttered in the same sentence.
I get the same feeling that a lobster gets as it is lowered into the boiling pot. It’s that feeling of man, kiss your tail good-bye.
The women at work are talking about 50 shades of Gray like it is some sort of secret girl’s club.
Do women want to secretly be flown in helicopters and blind folded and tied up?
Not the women I know.
The women I know wear old sweat pants and tell me they haven’t showered yet and they apologize for their hair being messed up.
Sex in a helicopter? How bout sex on top of the covers? Jeez.
50 Shades of Grey is a Viagra induced dream.
Remember girls. For an erection lasting longer than 4 hours, seek immediate medical attention.
50 shades of Grey, coming to an emergency room near you.
Life’s Crazy™