Evolution: The Visual Ape

Men are visual creatures. When a woman enters a man’s visual field, electrical signals flood the optic nerves, lighting up synapses throughout the cerebral cortex, triggering the neck to rotate so that the eyes can lock on and commence tracking. The behavior is pure reflex, an involuntary muscle reaction, like breathing, over which men have almost no control. Most women tolerate this reaction from their men, not because they believe the common refrain that it’s okay to look but not to touch, but because they have come to realize that there is no hope of altering this behavior. Performing the movement is not without risk to the male, either from the swift backhand of a not so understanding mate, or from the serious internal injuries that can result from frequent and violent twisting of the head and neck. As my x-rays reveal, severe cases will require extensive surgery. 

My Secret Fantasy

I harbor a secret fantasy, but indulging it poses a serious risk to my marriage. Many men, I’m sure, face a similar dilemma, a longing to taste the forbidden fruit that brings only fleeting ecstasy and, yet, ultimately yields unending grief. Too much mental energy is wasted imagining the impossible. Too many nights I awaken in a cold sweat, unable to release the obsession that steals my sleep. Too may days are lost to wasted daydreams, contemplating how to transform my phantasmagoria into reality. Unless Kellie is willing to grant me one dispensation, I am destined to perish with this urgent desire left unsatisfied. She could let me fulfill my wildest fantasy. All she has to do is let me win just one damn argument.

Meno-Poise

Joan of Arc had it easy, they only burned her once.  Kellie, on the other hand, has been repeatedly tortured by hot flashes for more than two years, and there’s no sign that her inferno will extinguish anytime soon. There seemed to be nothing that I could do to help until I noticed a TV commercial for a new line of menopause products from Kimberly-Clark: Poise Roll-On Gel, Poise Body Cooling Towelettes, and Poise Personal Lubricant. I wanted to relay my discovery to Kellie, but she’s not usually receptive to my advice and suggestions, especially regarding feminine hygiene products, so I decided to test these latest innovations in menopause cooling technology myself.

Inside Cabin

I was flying to New York on Delta Airlines, flipping through Sky Mall magazine because my MacBook, iPad, and iPhone all had to be powered down for take off, when I came across an ad for Sea Shield,^TM a great new product for waterproofing all your Apple toys. It was exactly what I needed. Then I saw the price, $39.98 for a what was essentially a Ziploc bag. I got angry because I realized that I can buy a box of 250 one-gallon double zipper Ziploc bags for only $39.98 – that’s 16 cents per bag. Even I can make money with a 250 percent markup.

Indecision Kills

I was doing speed limit, 35 MPH, which seemed to be the common practice in Alaska, unlike back home in California where you're a traffic hazard if you move at anything less than 80 MPH, when a Mr. Squirrel darted out into the road.

Vacation Education

Contrary to what you may believe, it's not easy to vacation as often as Kellie and I do, and without a sufficient math, science and engineering background, traveling can be fraught with peril. You might think that Kellie would defer to my superior intellect and education to help keep us out of trouble while skipping around the globe, but that's not how things work in Kellie's World.

I'm Back

No, I have not forgotten about my blog, and yes I will post a typical Kellie's World piece again soon (I'm working on something right now). In the mean time, I have to tell you how upset I am that my post on Johnny Depp has jumped to the top of the list of my most popular posts. It's not even a good post; it's just the subject matter that's making it pop on Google searches. I'm tempted to delete it. 

Death By Marriage

Today's guest post is an excerpt from blogger and author Scott Bartlett's new novel Royal Flush. In this vignette, the Wisest King Alive is getting ready for his wedding ceremony. I think the same man presided over my nuptials.

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The Wisest King Alive buttoned his tuxedo lethargically. His beard flowed absurdly over the front.

“Tuck it back like this,” Eliza suggested. She had been fussing with his facial hair for the past hour.

Whose bag is this?

Photo Credit

Why am I the one who has to carry the marital aid through airport security? I’m not the one who needs it. Hell, I don’t even need Kellie’s company on my own personal pleasure journey. I’m perfectly capable of handling my own travel arrangements, and when I travel alone, I can arrive anytime I please, though I do prefer it when Kellie gives me a ride. 

On more than a few occasions, the TSA agent has spotted something suspicious in my luggage, triggering a public search of my carryon bag. I think they do it for the entertainment value. You can’t tell me that they don’t x-ray at least a thousand pocket rockets a day. Security agents know exactly what things look like and they are not dangerous unless you encounter severe turbulence and accidentally poke someone’s eye out. They just want to watch you cringe when they waive the damn thing around. Kellie could have purchased a nondescript beige appliance, but no, she had to choose the flaming red model with a cubic zirconia encrusted periphery that dazzles the eye and makes everyone’s head swivel trying to locate the source of brilliantly flashing light.

Beyond my periodic tuneup, we’ve set some ambitious goals for our Alaskan cruise. On those days when we don’t leave the ship for an excursion, we'll be doing morning and afternoon workouts; there will be no pigging-out at the buffet trough, and we’ll both be doing some reading. I’ve selected three light pieces for myself: the August edition of Foreign Affairs, The Submerged State: How Invisible Government Policies Undermine American Democracy, and Why Does the World Exist?: An Existential Detective Story. Kellie didn’t bring any books so I’ve made a selection for her, something a little deeper than pulp I’ve chosen for myself. She’ll be reading Fifty Shades of Grey.

I downloaded the entire trilogy for her a few weeks ago after her friend Melissa sent her a text about the book. Melissa was so captivated by the story that she sat in bed reading till almost two in the morning. After finally putting the book down, she jerked her husband up for a little late night literary romp. David welcomed his wife’s new nocturnal energy and enthusiasm, but the benefit was short lived. Melissa finished the entire trilogy in less than a week. Luckily for me, Kellie is a slow reader. 
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Another post for the dudes at Dude Write.

Divorce

 Sharks Cove on Oahu
courtesy of TripAdvisor

You wouldn’t have known it by looking at me, but I was miserable. Instead of going home to my wife and children after a day of working on the ship, I spent a couple of hours at the gym to avoid returning to my empty apartment. Each night I'd drink a bottle of wine and numb myself to sleep. In the morning I would wake up and repeat the same lonely routine all over again. Eight months had passed since I separated from my wife. Tomorrow I would be appearing before the family court judge for the last time. My divorce would be final, dropping a painful milestone on an unhappy period in my life. Rather than picking up the bottle again, I grabbed a towel and headed down to the hot tub.