Trophy Husband? or What goes bad on a Hoof?

Boy toy, definitely!
And to answer the second seemingly unrelated question: NOTHING! Com'on! Who doesn't love bacon?
So that's Ryan.
My trophy husband.
He is 55 days younger than me.
And bacon? He loves it. Almost as much as Parker eats turkey.
Scandalous, huh?

Today he turns 36 and now we are the same age. Even still, I get carded way more than he does--no doubt these are people who feel sorry for me and think my self-esteem needs a boost but nonetheless . . . This means, clearly, that I am the younger looking one. And THAT is what really counts. Right? (And yes, Lala, everything is a competition.)

We celebrated with little fanfare. Pizza, beers and cake. And no, I am NOT the one who drinks the PBR (gag). Hence why I am the younger looking one. Very low key since Carmella was not feeling too good.

I did get him a really great card.
I'm such the romantic.
I can't show it to you because it might fall under "questionable material" and I might get flagged.
But I'll describe it. (Or you could just go to Publix and see it for yourself)
It is a picture of pig's butt. You open it and it says:
I'm sorry, I thought you said you like PIG butts and you could not lie.

I still can't stop laughing about it.
The check-out lady at Publix didn't find it nearly as funny either but Ryan liked it.
And see, that is why we're a couple.