True Story











{July 22, 2012}   50 Shades of Ashley

True Story:  I took the bait.

Well, What are you supposed to do? Everyone’s doing it.

Don’t believe me? Just go out to a pool, beach, or park today. There should be several copies of 50 Shades of Grey lying around.

I kept hearing everywhere I went, “I couldn’t put it down.” My sister, who doesn’t read as much as many of us read the whole series rather quickly.

Going to BAM (Books a Million) is a favorite afternoon activity of mine and G Monkey’s. Of course the 50 Shades series is right up front. I wanted to text E. L. James and let her know my local BAM was helping her make $1 million a week. Damn! Fastest selling paperback series evah. Schwing! The sexual puns shall continue.

Hello my name is Ashley and I purchased a copy of 50 Shades of Grey. I am embarrassed to share my story with you but since we are among friends… Well, I have paraded it around the pool and beach. I have read it at traffic lights prompting dirty glances from other cars and winks from men. I have no shame.

True Story:  Since reading it, I have had a hard time understanding the hoopla.

I didn’t know anything about the story before reading other than there was some kinky business happening in it. I was quite shocked at the age of the characters. I guess I assume everyone in the literary world is my age. I didn’t expect the main character to be 21 and Mr. Grey to be 27. I also, kept waiting for some major plot twists. I suppose that is why I don’t read romance very often. I need more to happen than just the love story, unless, say the love story spans across continents and wars and death and such. Now that sounds exciting! Not just some kid’s thinky thoughts about her luvah.

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy the book. I did. It was fun to read something different, and I am a print junkie. I think it is part of my ADD but I will read anything around me always. Just going number 1 in the potty is too boring for me. I will read the back of the aerosol spray for the 15 seconds it takes to urinate. I will read whatever is in the front seat of my car at a stop sign. You get the point.

True Story:  If you carry this book around with you it will prompt many discussions with women and men.

I may actually sell a house to someone because of 50 Shades of Grey. It started a conversation with 2 women at the pool who later referred a buyer to me. Does anyone have E L James’ mailing address? I need to send her a referral fee.

Another thing I discovered is the different reactions to the book from men. One woman told me the book caused a fight because her boyfriend said, “Oh you’re reading that book that teaches women how to cheat.”

RIDICULOUS. If you have read the book you know there is no infidelity what so ever in the story. Actually, you would be “punished” if you cheated on Mr. Grey.

If you take the S&M out of the book it is quite a virginal love story. They might as well be Edward and Bella of Twilight fame.

Another fun reaction I saw while hanging out at BAM: a woman picked the book up off the stand by the door and her husband jerked it out of her hand saying, “Let me see that.” Ha! Silly boys. If they only took the stance of most married men, which is this may be the best summer of their entire marriage with Magic Mike at the theater and 50 Shades in the hands of their women.

One woman told me at the pool, as she could see I was just starting the book, “You’re going to want a man around.”

Me:  I don’t have one.

She looked around.

Woman:  Well, the Florabama’s across the street.

Translation: Honky Tonk Meat Market

New Term I probably did not make up: Money Porn. Let’s talk about the money porn in 50 Shades. I am certainly not a gold digger. The two relationships I have had in my life were with men who didn’t have cars or jobs when I met them. (I know. I know. Life is about learning).

You have to admit the billionaire thing is one of the sexiest shades of Grey. A flogging every now and then might not be so bad if you can get dropped off to go shopping in Charlie Tango, Mr. Grey’s helicopter.

Same goes for Edward the Vampire. So he’s a little pale and dead. He has super powers and an endless supply of money.

Therefore, I shall read the next two books in the series just as much for the money porn as the dirty bird business.

True Story:  I am currently studying how to ghost write Erotica to make some serious cabbage.

Random True Side Story:  I received a text out of the blue from my sister. It read: Does G Monkey still eat his boogers?

I replied:  I’m pretty sure.

I have no idea what that was about.

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True Story:  This will be the first second-hand story I have ever shared here. But I am told this is how it went down. I hope I get it right.

My son has a small repertoire of pop songs in his head:

1) Oh Sherry by Steve Perry

2) Apple Bottom Jeans by T-Pain

3) Rumor Has it by Adele

4) Man in the Mirror by Michael Jackson

It is absolutely fall on the floor hilarious to hear him sing them. For one, he either sings with major gusto or totally flat and emotionless. There are only two options. He is the pure essence of innocence, and that combined with the grown-up lyrics, well, is just good clean fun people.

Imagine that sweet little face walking in the room and saying very flatly, “Rumor has it he’s the one I’m leaving you for.”

He has had the great fortune (wink) of inheriting his mother’s raspy voice. Which is pretty awesome when he belts out, “I should have been Gone-on… Knowing how I made you feel…”

True Side Story:  I need to YouTube record G Monkey’s version of Apple Bottom Jeans. He could be the next Biebs or Tone-Loc.

A friend from far away was visiting and I was giving them a tour of the building I live in. Ex-Pump and I kept getting G Monkey to do his tricks. You know, show off smart or funny stuff to people who don’t have kids.

So I said, “sing Apple Bottom Jeans.”

GM: (Pouty) No! I don’t want to.

US:  Please. Please.

GM:  No. I want to swim.

ME: We can’t swim right now. I’ll give you a popsicle if you sing it.

GM:  No.

He pouts and sulks and walks behind us with his arms crossed. But apparently the need for a popsicle overtook him, because the next thing you know…

He starts singing “APPLE BOTTOM JEANS, BOOTS WITH THE FUR…” in a very deep angry voice.

It’s like Tone-Loc, Janis Joplin & Darth Vader all mixed into one. He is not happy about having to sing for his meal.

GM:  The whole club was looking at her. She hit the floor.

At this point G Monkey hits the floor, taking a knee and screams, ” Next thing you know…”

He starts pounding his fists on the ground.

GM:  Shorty got LOW LOW LOW LOW.

He stands up and growls at us.

The grown ups fell into fits of laughter. I really don’t think he knows what a shorty is, but he knows that b*tch gets low, low, low. It was worth 5 popsicles. It knocked us out. We laughed so hard that he now sings the song in “angry voice” just to get us to laugh.

So back to the story at hand as told to me by Ex-Pump via Summer Camp director.

Earlier in the week I had asked G Monkey if he wanted to invite anyone from camp to his birthday party.

GM:  Not really. Well maybe Ella and Kristie.

I asked him about some of the boys. He wasn’t interested in inviting them. He said they were not his friends for various reasons.

Well, later in the week his father tells me the following story. One of G Monkey’s classmates is really in to Michael Jackson. He wears the glove and all. The camp director was trying to get him to sing something of Michael Jackson’s.

Camp Director:  Come on. Come on. How about Beat it? Sing something.

Out of nowhere from a corner of the room G Monkey belts out, “I’m talking about the man in the mirror. I’m asking him to change his ways. No message could have been any clearer. If you want to make the world a better place take a look at yourself and make a change.” He screams that last part usually. And yes he says “talking about” instead of “talking to” the man in the mirror. He also says “I’m axing him to change his way-yays.”

Well, from what I hear you could have knocked the whole room over with a feather. The Camp Director was floored.  All the other kids wanted to be taught the chorus of Man in the Mirror. Rumor has it all the other camp classrooms, 1st through 6th grade, were leaning out into the hallway listening to the 5-year-olds belt out Man in the mirror.

G Monkey is somewhat of a celebrity at Camp now. His father said the next  day when he dropped him off all the kids were all over him and saying his name and asking him questions like, “Hey, you’re into Thomas right?” “Is it still your birthday?” “Can you sing Man in the mirror?”

That afternoon when I picked him up he wanted to invite a lot more friends from camp to his birthday party.  It was cute. Reminds me of when I would bust out in back-handsprings when I was a kid to win friends. Wait. I still do that. At his birthday party last weekend I dusted off my rusty diving board skills to impress people at the pool. I didn’t walk away with any digits but the young lifeguard did say,”that lady scares me.” Boo. That’s right. Watch out.

In other news, I have hit rock bottom. AGAIN. A 7-year-old girl asked me if I was G Monkey’s Nana.

Me:  Like his grandmother?

She nods.

Me:  No. I am his Mother. (Through gritted teeth).

True Story:  I am 36. There is not a gray hair on my head. Rock. Bottom.



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