Your Captain, not only be wise in the world of economics, but is also an accomplished ballroom dancer, extraordinary video game player, fossil hunter extraordinaire and all around funny and amusing guy. And thus, your beloved Captain would have thought this would be enough to satiate the intellectual and romantic desires of his beloved Natasha.
However, unforeseable to your humble Captain, he walked right into a trap without knowing it. Oh, it started innocently enough, but little did he know what was in store for him.
It all started when thanks to President Obama both your Captain and Natasha had no real work to do for about 2 months. Besides which we were told we didn't have to worry about our mortgage or paying for gas any more, so off we went to Missouri for a 6 week vacation. A mere week before this I had come down with a nasty bout of poison ivy, and was thusly aware of what it looked like. However, eager to find fossils in Missouri, I pulled over my motorcycle when I saw a promising strata of rock, running up to it, only to realize I went through a 20 yard patch of poison ivy.
It then became a mission to immediately get rid of the jeans I was wearing and buy a new pair. Stopping at the local Pamida, I bought a nice, big, baggy pair of jeans, perfect for riding my motorcycle.
However, Natasha protested. Not that I would swap poison ivy infected jeans for clean ones, but that the others were too baggy and did not show off "my cute little butt" (her quote, not mine).
I dismissed this as typical foolish female tomfoolery as I thought all jeans were the same. Sure some might fit better, but it was merely a whim of preference of women that would ebb and flow every other day, surely to be ignored because of it's irrelevance.
Now fast forward 6 months where the Minnesota winter has been replaced with a VERY early and VERY wonderful spring, permitting me already to put over 3,000 miles on my motorcycle. Not only has the weather allowed for me to bring out my bike early, it has also allowed me to start my seasonal running early. Your Captain is already running his goal of 7 mile runs which he usually attains come mid-May. Combine this with the wonderful economic boom promised to us by Barack Obama, and your Captain has more free time due to a lack of work which he has now dedicated in part to lifting weights.
What does this have to do with the Great Ugly Jean Purging of 2010, you ask?
Well, the combination of lifting weights AND running has resulted in...um...shall we say, a very Cappy Cap physique. So much so that Natasha, IGNORING MY INTELLECT AND PERSONALITY TRAITS, has now taken a new-found and cheap affection for my physical looks! Discarding my great economic insights and wonderful personality, she now barks orders at me to "take off my shirt."
I feel so cheap and used!
However, simple demands that I take off my shirt are the least of the costs of the Captain's new bod. The Captain's wardrobe has taken a beating as well, specifically jeans.
I had, I HAD, a nice collection of nice comfy jeans. Perfect for any kind of activity. Fishing, motorcycle riding, wearing, you name it.
But oh, no. No more. Those jeans just won't due according to the illustrious Natasha. And ever since this early spring sprung, she has declared war on my "Ugly Jeans."
The purge started much like Stalin's purge of his military officers, except with more vengeance, aggression and hatred. I was TOLD that I was going to get rid of my ugly jeans and replace them with NEW, BETTER FITTING jeans.
To this I had no choice.
And so, much like 1982 where my mom would take me to Goodwill and I would try on some stranger's jeans, with the tugging and the pulling and hemming and the hawing, Natasha took me to Old Navy (that's where the cool hip kids go if you didn't know) to replace my Ugly Jeans with new, "sexy" jeans ("sexy" apparently meaning they look worn and tattered like my old jeans, but cost 3 times as much).
And thus, at the ripe old age of 35, your Captain now has sexy jeans. The ugly jeans have been bannished, burned or otherwise taken care of, and now I can't ride my motorcycle for more than 10 miles without having to constantly...um..."adjust."
So men, beware. If you ever decide to work out, run, tone up and just become more sexy than you already are, realize there are consequences. Your women will no longer desire you for your intelligent conversation, your wittiness, or your knowledge of economics. No, they will become carnivorous temptresses, demanding a constant display of your body accentuated by "sexy jeans." You will be their little doll so they can dress you up in clothes to meet their shallow, lewd whims. You will become nothing but a piece of meat for their eyes to devour!
And alas, there's nothing you can do but grin and bear it.