WARNING: I'm going to bitch about how much my husband eats...AGAIN. I know, I know. I'm like a friggin broken record. But, I just can't help my damn self.
On Sunday, to celebrate our 18Th anniversary (BTW, Thank you all for the kind words and well wishes!), this is how we spent our day:
* The night before, the cell phones were shut off.
* We slept until nine-ish (which we never do). Then, Hubby went out to get us some fresh blueberry muffins. Yum.
* We got ready and went to the movies to watch Sex & the City 2, which, by the way, I thought was a fun movie even though critics said it sucked. I mean, HELLO, People?! It's not supposed to be friggin Schindler's List, for crap's sake. It's a girlie flick that inspires the audience to laugh a little and enjoy the great scenery (AKA....HOT DUDES and GREAT CLOTHES). I liked it. It was fun. Call me shallow cuz I don't really give a rat's hairy ass, Roger Ebert.
* After the movie, we went to a spa and had a couples massage. Can you say, HEAVEN? My Lord. If I was rich, I'd be paying people to rub me silly everyday of my freakin life. Seriously.
* And finally, after coming out of our massage comas, we went out for a lovely dinner. And this is where the shit got crazy...
So, picture it. We are at this great steakhouse in Providence, RI. And because we skipped lunch, we are famished. But I am pretty well able to control myself in the midst of food, right? But HUBBY? Yeah...totally different story.
This is what he and I ate.
HUBBY: A LOAF OF FRIGGIN HERB BREAD WITH A SHITLOAD (Yes, SHITLOAD is a technical term, People.) OF FLAVORED BUTTER, A GLASS OF CHIANTI, A WEDGE SALAD COVERED (AND BY COVERED, I MEAN EFFING SWIMMING IN) IN BLUE CHEESE DRESSING/REAL BACON
Sally: A DIET COKE WITH LEMON AND A CUP OF SOUP
HUBBY: A BIG MUTHA BONE-IN RIB EYE STEAK (LIKE THE ONE THAT FRED FLINTSTONE GOT FROM A BRONTOSAURUS), A FOOTBALL SIZED BAKED POTATO--LOADED WITH BUTTER/SOUR CREAM/BACON/SCALLIONS, ANOTHER GLASS OF CHIANTI, AND GRILLED ASPARAGUS (something green for good measure)
SALLY: A 6 OUNCE FILET MIGNON WITH ABOUT 1/2 CUP OF MASHED POTATOES, CARBONATED WATER W/ LIME, AND GRILLED ASPARAGUS
But, WAIT. There's more.
After eating all of his dinner, and some of my dinner (Who do ya think ate the rest of my mashed potatoes?), Hubby was all like:
Hubby: You getting dessert?
Me: No. I'm full.
Hubby: *SAD FACE* Oh. Okay.
Me: Why? Are you?
Hubby: Well, I wanted to. But, I'm torn between the cheesecake and the creme brulee.
Me: So, what you're saying is...You want me to order the cheesecake so you can order the creme brulee because you don't want to look like the pig that you really are?
Me: Fine. But don't complain to me when you make yourself sick.
Hubby: *HAPPY FACE* Don't worry about me! I can always throw up on the way home!
Me: Freakin lovely.
So, that's what we did. I ordered the cheesecake---which I took three bites of. He ordered the creme brulee...
And then he really went to town. And I'm not kidding.
L to R: Hubby...with his glass of whole milk, creme brulee, blueberry cheesecake, vanilla ice cream (You know...Cuz the creme brulee and the friggin cheesecake WEREN'T enough), and bowl of REAL WHIPPED CREAM
And after ANNIVERSARY PIG FEST 2010...
Hubby's total weight gain?
A BIG, FAT, ZERO POUNDS.
And I know this, HOW?
Simple. For the last two mornings, he's hopped out of bed, jumped on the bathroom scale, and run back into the bedroom doing the HAPPY DANCE saying, "Whoo hoo! Calories fear me!"
Clearly, I am married to Satan.