By: Ann Brown
I cannot discuss that book with you. Because my MOM read it and then she will call me and want to discuss it with me and then I will have to pour hot tar up my nose and into my brain so I can die. My mom is super open about sex – isn’t that GREAT? No.
Also, I can’t discuss it because I didn’t read the book.
I don’t know about you, but I am not in any hurry to get my hands on FIFTY SHADES OF GREY. I mean, I just know it wouldn’t work for me. And, frankly, the last thing I need is more evidence that I am dead inside.
Reading a book about someone having sex is not going to put me in the mood to have sex. It will, however, totally put me in the mood to write a book. Which will make me feel bad for not working on my novel. Which will piss me off at Robin because, you know, it’s his fault. And then I will attack the Wheat Thins, which will fill me with self-loathing for being fat and then there is no way in hell I am going to want to get naked and have sex with anyone.
And there’s the whole sado-masochist thing in the book. Which my mom told me about. While I was driving. It was hard not to steer directly into a tree and end the conversation. From what I was forced to hear, I understand that the woman was okay with spanking and the like. Again, I just don’t get it. The last time anyone tried to spank me I was two years old. I actually don’t remember it but Karen says that she (then age four) and I were gonna get a spanking for some transgression so she told me to put a bunch of hardcover books in my underpants. You’ll have to ask Karen why she thought that was a good idea. Karen has always had some weird shit ideas. I bet she probably even read FIFTY SHADES OF GREY. Hey, Karen! Mom’s on the phone. You two have a lot to discuss.
My point being, spanking would only make me think about books. Books in my underpants. BLUEBERRIES FOR SAL, most likely, or HAROLD AND THE PURPLE CRAYON, which were our favorites at the time. And that just doesn’t seem respectful to literature, you know? To stick books down your pants. Plus, Harold is cute enough and all, but I don’t want him down there.
Note: I suspect that even if I put great literature in my underpants before getting spanked, I would not feel sexy. But I’m willing to give it a try. Maybe my signed copy of KITCHEN CONFIDENTIAL.
You know what would turn me on? Fifty shades of white. In a minimalist living room with polished wood floors. In the Room and Board catalog. I could stare at a photo like that for a long time.
Especially if it’s tone-on-tone.
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Originally published on The Seattle Lesbian
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