Forget the Da Vinci Code; I Need Someone to Crack Wonderbutt

Despite all of my Googling expertise, the pile of things that I just don’t understand keeps getting higher.  I am pretty sure that I know less now than I did when I was 10.  I mean, back then, I actually had to hold on to information for lengthy periods for pop quizzes and exams.  Now, I discard any facts that are not vital to my present survival.

Today’s list of things I don’t understand:

1. Why large things that protrude from your head are more appealing than small, unobtrusive things that can be covered by a fashionable hair style.  Every time she sees my husband, Cap’n Firepants, our elderly friend, MILlie,  complains to him that her stereo headphones will not work.  He explains that the end needs to actually be plugged into something that makes sound – instead of dangling down her back.  She says that she does not want to plug them into something; she just wants to walk around with them on, so they will help her hear better.  (I tried to get her fitted for a hearing aid last year, but she refuses to wear one.)
2. Why my husband insists on being loyal to a car-maker (let’s just call them “Frod”) who keeps selling him cars with transmission problems.  After he got stranded, and they finally admitted there might be an issue (despite the fact that he brought it in 3 times before and there was “nothing wrong”), and then they proceeded to keep it for a week without offering him a rental car, I asked him if he still planned to go back there for his next car.  “Well, they did fix it,” he stated.
3. Why Google cannot help me find someone to help me fix my husband.  Not that kind of fix.  Just fix his blind allegiance to an automobile manufacturer who has not once returned the favor.
4. Why I keep shoes in my closet that are agonizingly painful to wear, then forget the damage they did to my foot the last time I wore them, then stupidly choose to wear them to work one day, not realizing until I am at work that I have made yet another dumb wardrobe decision, make my way through an excruciating day with blinding pain, then come home, take off the shoes, and put them back in my closet without even a sticky note to label them as “Shoes That Cannot Be Worn for More Than 5 Minutes without Completely Hobbling You for the Next Week”.
5. Why Dimples takes 90 minute showers, and she does not even shave her legs, yet.
6. Why Twitter sent me an e-mail inviting me to use it more often (I never use it; I just signed up for it so I could get a Pinterest account) and then proceeded to suggest that two people I would probably like to follow are Tyra Banks and Snooki.
7. How I can explain to Twitter, in 140 characters or less, all of the reasons that I will never follow Tyra or Snooki.
8. Why one of my students gave me a very nice gift today, then ran to me after school and said, “Oh, don’t throw out the gift bag because my mom wants it back.”

And, finally…

Why Wonderbutt decided to grab, out of all of the sections of the newspapers spread across the kitchen table, the Obituaries.  And dragged them, relatively intact, out to his Poop Pen.

I do not understand this dog.

 

What, exactly, is he trying to tell me here?

 

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