Meet George (aka G and Fatso):
I met George, my trophy husband, in 2003 while I was a 2nd year law student. I had no idea how old he was and was shocked when he told me he was old enough to be my father. I guess his physique is deceiving.
He grew up in Chicago and moved to Los Angeles when he was 16. He lived there until he was 45, when he moved to Oregon to follow wonderful me. However, I think the LA lifestyle took very strong hold of G and I don’t know if it will ever leave. He loves cars, clothes, designer everything and pretending he’s rich. This is a constant battle.
Fortunately for me, he doesn’t act like a typical
50 51 53 55 year old (more like a teenager). He prefers to take pictures with his shirt off, loves changing his clothes in public and will say yes to any photo op. Sometimes, I think he believes he’s a celebrity, which is weird. But I’d love to have the paparazzi stalking me.
One of his favorite signs in Palm Springs:
He probably doesn’t believe he’s living the trophy husband life because he has a full-time job. However, because I still have to work, I try to pimp him out as often as possible in order to make my dream come true.
One of the good things about marrying someone a couple decades older than you is that you can make fun of him for pictures like this:
Ha!! Hilarious. I love making fun of G, but he’s a good sport and dishes it right back. Just ask him to do an impression of me (please don’t).
I’m proud to say I’m his first wife (and hopefully his last). He has two boys (yes, I think he was a big whore before he met me, but I try to pretend I was his first love…the boys make this a little difficult). Needless to say, I am a step-mom. Luckily for the boys, they never had to live with me and I haven’t had to do any real child-rearing.
Making life a little more interesting, George III is
26 27 31. 5 years younger than me. A little weird? Yes. Just adds to the “interesting” family. It makes us laugh.
Because G has a little more “life experience” than I, it takes a lot for him to become worked up about something. I am the crazy one. He is often described as nice and friendly. People seem surprised when they meet me and then meet him…like they wouldn’t think I’d be married to someone nice. Interesting.
For all the bitching and complaining I do, I have to admit he is a nice guy…and look how cute he is holding my flowers at our wedding!
Don’t worry, I will still write embarrassing posts about him. He needs way more than one post. Look for upcoming posts about the Shake Weight, soap operas and grooming. George is going to regret this whole blog thing.