Chapter 21 of Fifty Shades is Tea-riffic!

So, to recap chapter twenty: blah, blah, blah, I don’t care, blah-ty bling blah blah. Chapter 21 starts as Ana wakes up. Damn. It happened again. Ana wakes up and thinks about how Christian’s fantasy Richie-Rich penthouse life must be a way to compensate for his mother being a crack-whore. Good theory except Christian has explicitly said he has no memory of his mother. She died when he was four ffs! And then he was raised by rich people.

Agh! She’s so dumb she rolls her eyes at herself. Then she’s glad Christian isn’t there because he’d beat her for doing that. That’s the number one sign of a healthy relationship. The beating.

Ana starts looking around for Christian in just a t-shirt and runs into Christian’s maid. Who offers her tea, and who Ana is immediately sure is one of Christian’s exes. Actually forget what I said earlier – these two are perfect for each other. Ana finds Christian in his study and interrupts him on a business call. After some perfunctory small talk, they have sex on Christian’s desk. I. Am. Totally. Serious. And it gets worse. He sweeps all his papers onto the floor with one swift motion so they can get it on. Cue funky porn music! Does it get any more clichéd than that?

No. It does not…

Ana heads off to shower, and is offered tea by Christian’s maid, which makes Ana blush furiously. Sigh. In the shower she thinks about Christian, and asks her Subconscious, and then her Inner Goddess what they think about the situation. Then she makes an admission that makes my whole millennium: “No,” she says, “we’re all clueless.”


Finally you understand! You are clueless. You and all your weird multiple personalities.

After the shower Christian’s maid plies her with tea again. This is at least the third time. It’s sooo British. Wouldn’t you like a nice cup of tea? Just a little drop? What would you say to a nice cup?

Who is she? Mrs. Doyle?

Feck off indeed.

Then to breakfast! And the scintillating conversation therein! (And by scintillating I mean this. These people give me a headache.) They talk about Ana’s trip to visit her mother, which Christian is suddenly OK with. He tries to force her to take his private jet because, hey, private jet, but Ana refuses. She’s baffling, non? Why pass up all the perqs (and yeah, I’m that kind of stubborn pedant) of having a boyfriend who’s as rich as God?

Then they get all kissy-faced and googly-eyed and will-you-miss-me? Bleck *I* won’t miss either of you. In fact I hope Ana’s plane smashed into Christian’s penthouse in a fiery-fireball of fire. Too much to hope? Ah ye of little faith…

Then Ana heads off to her interviews. Remember them? We’re still operating under the sham that Ana is a fully functional person who can work. But instead of letting us see it happen, Ana tells us that the interviewers ask sharp questions, and that she wows them. But we’ll never know for sure. The few things we do get to hear make me doubt her account. Her only question for the interviewer is, “When would you like someone to start?” How awkwardly was that phrased? Not ‘what is the start date for this position’? Not ‘when should I expect to start, if you decide to hire me’? When would you like someone (anyone!) to start?

Ana you are the weakest link! Goodbye!

She goes home to pack and Kate gets all concerned-roommate-y with her. It’s tiresome because this is one of the only two modes Kate has: Concerned Kate, and Angry Kate. Yawn.

Then more email. Ana emails Christian to say the interviews went well, and waits with bated breath for Christian to answer. Oh God this is gripping shit! What is this, 1997? Who does this anymore? They exchange 8 emails in total. Ana accuses Christian of sleeping with his maid, and they nitpick each other’s grammar. Zzzzzzz…

I wake from my book-induced coma to find that Ana is at the airport where she is furious (furious I tells ya) to find out that Christian has had her upgraded to first class. That rat bastard!

Aaaand, cut! That’s where we leave our crappy couple because chapter 21 is over. Thank the Flying Spaghetti Monster…


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