It's Been Painful, Mr. Grey

My flatmate lent me her copy of Fifty Shades of Grey. I had no intention of reading the book because I knew it would be as commercial as Dan Brown. But out of curiosity, I opened to Page 1 and found myself close to Page 200 after two hours. Do not be misled. It's an easy, brain-numbing piece of literature: big fonts, small words. It doesn't even have that euphemistic allusion to sex, Mills & Boon style. More like cut-and-paste dialogues from a porn movie.

There were two things that annoyed me the most. First, Anastasia Steele's inner goddess. Who and what exactly is this bitch? It sounded like a schizophrenic, split personality disorder to me. Second, Christian Grey. Ladies, do not run away with your fantasies. What are the chances of Grey being real - a hot, ripped, wealthy entrepreneur that flies his own chopper, feeds Africa AND straight? We all know that entrepreneur billionaires look more like Mark Zuckerberg than Christian Bale (hey, Zucky's cute in his own way).

My flatmate cannot believe it's taking me more than three days to finish the book. My interest just waned, and I'm supposed to be in the "best part" (Anastasia says yes to being tied like a hog and whipped like a horse). I'd pick Harry Potter over this anytime - at least Rowling made me think who opened the Chamber of Secrets.