Hah! Although it shames me to admit this, I actually read this. I have kind of a problem with reading, not unlike some people and junk food or crack. After about three pages I was like, "I have to stop!", but I just couldn't stop looking. It exerts a bizarre hold, not unlike the sight of a small decaying woodland animal corpse. It stinks but at the same time it's morbidly fascinating.
Anyway. Fifty Shades of Puke is every bit as twee and and vile as its origins as a Twilight fanfic would imply. It is about a generic thinks-herself-skinny-and-dull-but-is-mysteriously-attractive-to-billionaires heroin and her tortured relationship (pardon the pun) with a handsome billionaire with a BDSM thing going on. I could mock the abysmal writing (any writer who uses "he smirked" in a non-comic sense deserves to be put in the stocks), or the storyline, or anything... in a way, there are so many things to hate about the book that it's almost worth it... but not really. It's horrible.