Some Stuff about Step Sisters, Christmas and Jello

Today, I was walking along the street and a guy said to me:

"Did I ever tell you I love you like a step sister?"

I laughed and kept walking.

But then, I stopped to think. Because what does that even mean?

I wanted to turn around, go back, and ask the man a few questions.

" Does that mean you hate me?

Because, based on my most recent version of Cinderella, step sisters are not the most lovable creatures.

And if you love me like a stepsister (AKA hate me), why? How do you know? When did you discover this loathing?

I've never seen you before.

And, not that it ever comes up in the exposition or anything, but I bet Cinderella at least gave her step sisters a chance before she dived into the I'll-serve-you-and-try-to-love-you-but-mostly-you-make-me-want-to-vomit relationship she had going on with Anastasia and Drizella.

Too many Disney references?

Fine.

Point is. I don't know what you're getting at.

Next time you should be more clear when yelling to strangers on the street. "

I didn't say that to him. But it would have been cool if I did. Okay, maybe cool isn't the right word. But it would have been something for sure.

Anyway, as I continued on my walk down the street I realized I have a lot of stories to tell. And they're all bottled up.

Partly because I feel like if I'm going to tell a story I should have a reason for telling it. Kind of like, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. But instead, if you don't have anything life changing to type, don't even open your keyboard.

But that's just a generic excuse for my truer reason for not writing, which is: lately my brain thinks its too busy for story telling.

"No time for stories?" I asked myself. "It's like I don't even know you."

So in the interest of avoiding a second identity crisis, I'm going to write.

(The first identity crisis, in case you caught the reference to the second identity crisis, took place on a small business street near my office when I wanted to stop at Ulta just to buy nail polish. $10 nail polish. I'm supposed to be the type of girl with nails short enough to play the guitar. Not the kind of girl who spends time perusing the nail polish section at Ulta. Don't ask me why or how, but I'm pretty sure this is somehow Selena Gomez's fault.)

So. Ya. I'm going to write. Stuff. And it will probably not even end with a moral. Because not everyone can be Aesop, and maybe it's time for me to accept that.

Just so your in the loop, for the next 13 days this blog is going to feature the highlight reel from the last year (starting December 2010 ending December 2011).

Then December 20 through December 25 I'm going to write all about Christmas. And why I love sugar cookies. And why I think candy canes are overrated. And why I believe in Santa. And who knows what else could be in this Christmas surprise mix.

But before I get all Christmasy, I'm going to tell you about how I decided to make a Jello mold using only a bread pan, one packet of grape Jello and a toothbrush.

And other purposeless stories from 2011.

I just hope, that at the end of this all, you don't love me like a step sister.

Because that just doesn't seem like a good thing at all.