Sh*t My Husband Eats

So, I noticed that the top of the NYT Best Sellers for non-fiction this week was a book called "Sh*t My Dad Says."  Hmmm...  best seller?  I need to give some serious thought to tapping into the non-fiction market with my own book: "Shi*t My Husband Eats."

Tonight's example:

For those of you having a hard time figuring out what we have here, it's a sandwich made out of 4 turkey hot dogs, turkey bacon, and cheese (and extra thin sliced bun, since he's carb conscious, but not conscious enough for beer to count).  I'm not totally sure I get what turkey bacon adds to a turkey hot dog sandwich, but who am I to understand THC's palate.

Other THC specialties (these are real, I swear):

• Imitation crab, refried beans, sliced deli turkey on a tortilla
• Omelet with imitation bacon bits and pizza sauce
• Kroger brand (because paying 54 cents for name-brand pudding would be outrageous) "Flan-flavored" sugar-free pudding

THC also has some interesting rules for his diet:  no mammals (under the theory "they don't eat me, so I don't eat them") and the sole exception to his rules being BBQ ribs.  Ribs?  Really?  I mean, I can see a vegetarian making an occasional exception for a lasagna with a little ground beef sprinkled in or something equally subtle.  But RIBS?  Meat on the bone?  You can't get any MORE meat-atarian than that!

Ohhh, the THC.... father of my child... sigh...