You know what I don't get?
I don't get why chocolate covered coconut candy can't be listed on the healthy food pyramid. It's delicious. And chocolate is a stress-reliever. So nom nom nom.
I don't get why my son thinks the greasy Beiber hair look is cute. Please please pretty please let me take you in so they can trim that stuff up more like the Justin off Wizards of Waverly Place. Pleaaassee.
I don't get why every home can't come mandatory with a dishwasher, washer and dryer. Dishes and laundry aren't ever going to stop as facts of life. So we should be automatically accomodated with the tools needed to get them done.
I don't get why the money tree I'm growing isn't producing any fruit. Sure, the leaves are green. But for some reason there's no dollar sign on them. Sigh.
I don't get why wine has to have an alcoholic odor. If it smelled like grape juice than my children would never know if I wanted to chug it all day.
I don't get why they have to make clothes so small. The average woman is more like a size 14. So that should be the average size of clothes. Those of you that have the luxury of being a size 0-3 can just go to a different, fancier store. It would be much less depressing to try on clothes that way. (Yes, I know that recently I've gone from a 5-year run of being the size 14, but I have this deathly fear that it won't take much to swell right back on up there..)
I don't get why all women can't have a free spa day - from head to toes - on their birthday every year from the time they hit 16 to death. With all of the emotional baggage we get to haul around, shoving the children out of our what-not's, playing mommy to our spouses, having to deal with menstrual cycles and bras.... we deserve it.
I don't get why some guys like to wear butt-saggy pants so they show their under-roo's. If you don't want to wear pants, than don't. Otherwise hike those bad boys back up to cover your nether-regions. You can wear baggy without trashy. Duh.
I don't get why we can't teach cats how to talk. It would be much easier than having to have them nibble our fingers when they want petted (because laying on my lap and rubbing her head on my arm didn't get the hint).