Everything from UFC to blind nudists

Can't stand: UFC. I'm not even going to pretend to be the cool wife who supports her husband in his desire to watch a UFC fight. Sorry. I don't like the hitting and the kicking, even recreationally. I'm mildly disgusted that my husband wants to see it. Tonight he's watching two grown men (who have no previous grievances with each other) pummel each other repeatedly, and what am I doing? Writing about it.

Like: She-ra. Macey and I discovered that it's instantly watchable on Netflix and our lives will never be the same. After all, she is the "princess of power! ower! ower! ower! ower!"

Can't stand: "Drummer Boy" I enjoyed this song until last year, when I heard 31, 652 versions of it on the radio. This year I've decided to keep track of how many times my ears are assaulted by "bah-rum-puh-pum-pum"s, so I have a tally sheet stuck to my fridge with a goldfish magnet. So far this season: six times. Six. That's counting Pandora and Star 98 FM. It's a Christmas miracle!

Like: Shannon Hale's books. I've never read one that I disliked.

Can't stand: When you're at the drive through and the person taking your order asks you "Will that be all?" after every item you order.

Like: Michael Jackson's music. Tuesday night was my husband's siblings' Christmas party and we danced to Michael on the Wii. I danced to "Black or White" and discovered that in some areas it does matter if you're black or white, particularly in dancing. I'm genetically disposed to excel at dances that are performed in either a square or a line. I cannot dance like a Jackson. I did a decent impersonation of someone having an epileptic fit, though.

Can't stand: Cold weather and short days. You may have noticed that I'm especially unpleasant at this time of the year. Obviously I need to move to the Caribbean.

Like: When people I know drive by when I'm running downhill because I look fast.

Can't stand: Running uphill.

Like: The seat warmer button in my Tahoe. Not the button so much as what pushing the button accomplishes: warmed up bum.

Can't stand: Having a cold bum. I read once that it has something to do with fat not having as good of circulation as muscle. That can't be it. Have you seen my bum? Exactly.

Like: Using the seat warmer button to keep food warm when I transport it. Is that gross? Do I care?

Can't stand: The whole system of calories needing to be burned or else they turn into muffin tops. We need to do something about this. I'm tired of having to think about calories.

Like: Teaching primary. I'm learning a lot.

Can't stand: Clothes. I know that I'm supposed to wear them, technically. I hate selecting them in the morning, washing them, buying them, ironing them, coordinating them. I want out. I'm moving to a blind nudists colony.

Like: The idea that a blind nudist colony might exist somewhere.

Can't stand: The ants who live in my dishwasher. They are a stubborn bunch. We've had professionals spray them. I've sprayed them. It hasn't killed them. All it's done is tick them off and cause them to reproduce exponentially. In that way, they remind me of the early members of the Mormon church.

Like: Fantasy. I recently read a library book that had a purple sticker on the spine that had a unicorn kicking its feet (hooves?) in the air. It was a Fantasy book; that's what the unicorn sticker said. I felt silly reading this book even though I enjoyed it immensely. Like by just reading this book I was declaring to the world, "Reality is no longer sufficient. I want to live in a fantasy world. And this is what I fantasize about: Unicorns." But it was a good book, and I've decided that I enjoy living in a fantasy world.

Can't stand: Made-up fantasy book names. Or any made-up name, for that matter. I realize that all names were made up at some point, and it would be nonsensical for someone who was riding a unicorn under two moons to be named, say, Brittany. Nevertheless, the made up names annoy me. I know they are sort of necessary, but it doesn't make them any less irritating. Just like clothes.