My first thought was, “Jeff will be so jealous.”
You see, my husband went through a meat phase.
Not eating it—he does plenty of that, to the point where he actually got gout at the age of 21, and is known to chew on whole salamis as if they were Fudgsicles. No, Jeff just got really interested in photographing it.
Turns out uncooked bacon looks better than my real hair.
Like, remember that glass head he bought me for the first birthday we spent together?
One day I came home to find it wearing a wig and filled with ground beef.
I know what you’re thinking: Una! Get out of the house!! It puts the lotion in the basket!!!!
But Jeff is not a serial killer. That I know of. He just spent a few months in his youth ordering cow eyeballs over the Internet, and really, haven’t we all had quarter-life crises?
(He hung them on our Christmas tree, after we’d stripped off the lights and ornaments. Then he put them back in their formaldehyde container in the office closet and forgot about them for a few years until it smelled like we were living in a funeral home.)
That's not the only way in which Jeff has beaten Lady Gaga to the punch, of course, but I he doesn't want me to put up any photos of his red lace veil or hair bow phases, so that will be a post for another day.