Wednesday, February 18, 2015

50 Shades of Nope


Someone asked me if I'm going to write about the 50 Shades of Gray movie. I am not. In fact I'm frantically avoiding it.

The reason is that I spent what could have been the best years of my life in an abusive relationship with a manipulative bag of manpain who had gaslighting down to an art. I have no strong desire to see these years mirrored to me on the silver screen, repackaged and sold to me as a hot sexy fantasy that women should (and do) aspire to. I wouldn't make it ten minutes into the trailers before I'm hyperventilating into my popcorn bag, let alone last long enough to watch it the two or three times required to write a deconstruction. It's the internet. There will be another 50 Shades of Bitching published by the time I finish typing this sentence. I recommend this one myself. It's a hoot and a half.

I will say though, for the record, that the thing in the trailer that hurts and offends me most is the downright shoddy knotwork:







That's a fucking disgrace is what it is. For fuck's sake Gray, she's going to slip out of that and make for the hills the second you start whining about how she's not a "real" sub if she's not into non-consensual beatings. Assuming she doesn't get her skin pinched between those shoddy loops first. If you're not a rope top, and you're clearly not, either use some goddamn cuffs already like normal people or get some practice. It's not actually hard, but you gotta do it properly.

So no, no deconstruction from me. If I'm getting this irritated by one frame I'm not going to last 90 minutes, or however long this misery lasts. I'm staying miles away from this one, safely tucked away in my nest, watching 50 Shades of Buscemi on infinite loop.




Although I'd be very grateful if someone could let me know if they left in the tampon scene. That would be good information for me to have.

Tuesday, February 10, 2015

PattiBlows: Cold Hard Cash Edition


Happy encroaching Valentine's Day. However you feel about this day, it is valid and true. Feel your feels and feel them freely.

For tips on how to celebrate when single, please have some advice from a fucking human being.

For sexist drivel, please keep reading.



Okay, I've done enough of these to know where this is going to go: sit quietly in a cocktail dress while being pretty, beaming your womanly thoughts at him from the confines of your frilly chastity belt, then blame yourself for not being pretty enough when it turns out you're not dating Professor X.

In the absence of this, second place goes to: anything you can think of, including but not limited to renting a troupe of chimpanzees to smear "I'd like to go to watch a movie" in their own shit on the wall, except talk to him.

What say you, Patti?

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