Chrimmus Moments with the Paulukaiti Clan

"Oh Noooo! Cancer of the armpit!"

"You can't wear socks with those shoes, it makes you look like a German tourist."

"Everytime someone grows a mullet, a chupacabra is born."

"Scrabble is not the end-all be-all of the English Lexicon!!"

"SIMMER DOWN NOW!!"

"What is this pie-looking thing in the fridge? Is this pie?"

"Its a simple question. Do you wanna go to Mars with a dead guy and a sandwich?"

Now may you all go off to your little New Years Parties, but remember, while you are out, that we the Paulukaiti will be ushering in the New Year with the Mashed Potato Mambo, proudly singing to the Lithonian Shogunational Anthem whilst the Boom Booms in the sky go Boom Boom.

Peace.

One word. And then some more words.

Finals.

PS. This is pretty much what I look like from when I wake up in the morning til I go to take a test, then come home and do it again. Snuggie+Pencil in Mouth+Ponytail. Done and done.

I've taken to just wandering around my apartment and complex in it, hiking it up like a skirt. I've literally cooked in it, gone outside in it, answered the door in it, you name it, I've done it in mah snuggie.

I'm attractive. Don't I know it.

Well, if we're being completely honest.

I do not like Coldplay. So sue me.

I like to try to fit myself into awkward and unusual spaces whenever possible. For example, last night: my laundry basket. In the past: under the sink, inside a cabinet, behind a TV, in my storage bins, in a linen closet.

I think that half a cupcake and diet coke constitute a perfectly functional and acceptable breakfast/lunch/dinner.

Sometimes I leave bobby pins in my pockets, then can't find them, then accuse people of stealing them, then do my laundry and find 50 of them in the lint filter.

People that sing while they have their headphones on make me want to deliver unto them a swift kick to the shins.

I like to pull all my hair down so that the majority of it hangs in my face on days that I don't feel pretty.

I'm one of those people that sometimes pretends to talk on the phone so that I don't have to talk to the people around me.

I have this theory, that every time someone grows a mullet, a chupacabra is born.

Mood.

Saldi.Juoda.Naktis.
Andrius Mamontovas

Brooklyn
Wakey!Wakey!



Let Go
Frou Frou


**please disregard the bizarre trippiness of this last video. i just like the song.

Peanut Butter.

Yesterday was awful.

I mean, really, truly awful.

All the stress of everything hit me like a ton of bricks in the morning, likely brought on by my already grumpy thoughts as I walked the 20 minutes to work in 8.2 degree weather.

I hate Utah.

Don't come runnin after me with pitchforks, now. I just... extremely dislike Utah, and having to come back to it, and its cold, and ice, and below freezing temperatures, and snow, after having been back in Georgia for a whole week. It just sucked coming back on saturday night, knowing that I'll have to take all my finals and do all my last minute little assignments and big ol projects within the next two weeks.

At church on Sunday, which my roommate Amy (hereafter known as Ames or Ags) dragged our ill and infirm selves to, the big combined sacrament meeting had some really good speakers.

This one kid talked about how, as a child, he has a vague memory of being set on the counter as his family made lunch, and realizing he was hungry, then proceeding to eat straight out of the jar of peanut butter by the mouthful and handful, wiping it all over himself, the walls, and the counter around him. His parents came back into the room, and his father had the wisdom to snap a photo of the comical situation. Upon later review, they noticed a small framed sign hanging on the kitchen wall behind their child in the photo, clearly visible, as if it was placed there on purpose: "Count your blessings."
Taken slightly aback by this obvious sign, they decided to count their blessings about the situation, in order to quell their anger at the child's messiness and mistake. His mother said aloud,

"Blessing Number 1: At least it was only peanut butter!"

Ags and I loved this talk, and have taken to going around reminding each other as we complain, "Its only peanut butter! Just peanut butter!"

So, in an attempt to put myself in a better mood, I counted my blessings, and found my peanut butter. I'm going to keep trying to find the peanut butter everyday, and document it in some manner, maybe even just on here.

Tuesday's Peanut Butter:
When I went to the gym yesterday, everything turned around. I hadnt worked out since going home, and it felt good to get some physical work done. There's nothing quite as satisfying as 20 miles on a stationary bike, really. I got to work out for a full hour, reading "Mockingjay" of the Hunger Games series as I did so. Great afternoon.
Also, it was Taco Tuesday at Del Taco. If you haven't taken advantage of this awesomespice deal, then something is seriously wrong with you. Three tacos for $1.07, thats including tax. Go out and git-r-done next week, so to speak.
I went over to my friend Brittani, from freshman year,'s apartment with Caroline, my roommate from that year, to watch the Victoria Secret Fashion Show. Oh man, so amazing. Its like a whole freaking performance, not just an underwear show. Seriously, extraordinary.

So yeah. It was good to have my day turned slightly around.
All the stress is still there... all the things I have to accomplish in a short amount of time still exist.. But apparently there are ways to calm yourself. And I plan on doing my best to keep that shizbiz up.

Why should you vote for the Grizzly Bear?

1. Grizzly Bear is not a panda, or from Kenya. There is no debate about Grizzly Bear's nationality. Grizzly is 100% American fierce.

2. Grizzly Bear believes in some degree of Anarchy, so you can work out your own problems.

3. If you are unable to work out your problems, Grizzly Bear is happy to declare Martial Law, then maul you and your problems away.

4. Grizzly Bear does not believe in money or debt. Grizzly Bear only believes in fish. And pain.

5. Grizzly Bear will eat terrorism.

6. Grizzly Bear is not affiliated with any particular political party. Therefore, Grizzly Bear= Better than any other dumb bucket candidate.

The Grizzly Bear for Office Campaign Begins!

As we work harder on the Grizzly Bear for Office Campaign, please feel free to add your own Grizzly Bear Propaganda posters, or take one of these and add it to your website or blog to show your support for Grizzly Bear 2012!

Grizzly Bear for Office 2012

My dear elder brother Adam posted a link to a video a while ago, demonstrating how Christine O'Donnell doesn't know the constitution or something.

I don't really like getting political. But I'm going to get BEARY political here for a moment today.

Amidst the debating and arguing and observing over what the woman who "Is Not a Witch" said and did during this debate with her opponent, I made a few observations and suggestions of my own. For example:

Erin i don't like either one here. i think they are both trying to make personal jabs at one another here.
stupid politics. let's just all elect a panda bear. everyone loves those.

Adam As long as the panda bear is not endorsed by Sarah Palin I'm all for your proposal.

Erin

Come to think of it, I do have an opinion. I think that a panda bear would not be the wisest choice for a U.S. political office, on accounta the panda bear's nationality would probably be questioned, and we don't want no drama. So, we should ...probably elect a grizzly bear instead, who will then declare marshal law, because thats what grizzly bears do, then we can all duke it out like civilized folk did back in the olden days.
I knew a grizzly bear would be a safe bet, because a Kodiak Bear would most likely be endorsed by Sarah Palin, and we certainly can't have that, now can we.

So On that note, ladies and gentlemen, I propose for you a new candidate.

Grizzly Bear for Office, 2012

Stay Tuned to the Turtle Belt for more information on this exciting new candidate.

Look, I'm studying.

and I'm SOOOOOOO happy about it.

Life Goals.

People ask me,

Erin, What are you going to do for your future? What do you hope to be doing in [X] number of years? What are your goals? At the end of your life, where do you want to be?

I've thought long and hard about these questions, and I have an answer.

I aspire to, one day, be an old fart, sitting on my front porch in a rocking chair, stroking one of my many cats, chasing away those girl scouts attempting to sell their pesky cookies.

Aaaaaannnnnddd..... That's about it.

6 Reasons why You shouldn't be listening to Christmas Music right now.

(at least, not for a little while.)

Dear girl sitting across from me at work.

I hate you.

Why do I hate you?

You have Pandora streaming Christmas music on your computer right now.

You say you've been patient. You say you've waited long enough to start up your festivities.

Let me tell you something--I have a few really good reasons why you should NOT be listening to Christmas music right now.


1. Halloween was, uh, 4 days ago. It should be illegal to be able to change holiday moods so quickly, to go from 'spooky creepy ghosties death etc' to 'happy joy snowflakes holly presents Santa' in such a bi-polar manner.

2. Everyone knows that the Christmas season doesn't start until Santa Claus finishes off the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade every year. DUH.

3. We haven't even had Thanksgiving yet! Stop trying to shove Holidays in my face!! We haven't even been given time to enjoy the last one yet! Some of us just aren't as ready to jump head first into the next round of decorating and themed foods.

4. I haven't even THOUGHT about buying Christmas presents yet. You're making me feel inadequate. Which makes me angry. Which makes me want to punch you in the face. Therefore:
You + Christmas Music=My Fist x Your Face. That's math, and therefore irrefutable.

5. Fortunately for you, we as citizens of the U.S. have this whole free-speech deal thing going on. So yeah, listen to your junk if you have to. But as with any type of music, at least have the common courtesy to put your headphones in. That's what everyone else is doing. What makes you better? If I took my headphones out right now and forced you to listen to the 'Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' track I have on repeat right now, you wouldn't appreciate it, now would you? Its the same basic concept.

And Finally, The Most Unarguable reason of all:

6. ITS NOT STINKIN CHRISTMAS YET.

Bam.

I have no words today. So here are some other people's pictures.

PS, Those first two pictures are from Today's "Rally to Restore Sanity and/or Fear," via comedy central in Washington DC. I'm watching it live online while working today, so you should probably too. Peace out.

Halloween is a comin, Chirrens.

We've finally reached it.
That special time of year when small children are encouraged to take candy from strangers, and it is deemed entirely appropriate.

So. I sort of love Halloween.

Really, I just love getting dressed up for pretty much any occasion with any excuse I can.

Last, year, I was a pretty legit looking flapper, if I do say so myself.


In the past, for various dressing up occasions, I have also been Cookie Monster:
And back in High School, I was Batgirl for Senior Dress Up Week. woot wootie wewt wootation.

In other matters, Enjoy your Halloween! Be safe, remember who you are, eat too much candy, overload on sugar, drive your parents crazy loco in the coco. (That means you, kids.)

Word.

UPDATE:

I decided to play repeat with the Batgirl scenario. Yes, I know its a popular costume. Its also an easy costume. Which is why its popular.

I went to the D.I. and got a cheap plain yellow top, which i chopped up and made into a bat emblem, belt and headband in about half an hour.

Steven ( the fellow beside me) referred to his own costume as"An Outlaw."

Riiiight, Steven. An outlaw that wants to be Michael Jackson (note the single glove).

Things about Utah that make me giggle.

"I feel good 'cause I got milk on sale at the store"

becomes

"I fill good 'cause I got melk on sell at the store."

Overhearing this conversation at Macey's:

"Look, strawberries are on sale right now!"

"Oh yeah, I love these! Don't you just love stuff like strawberry jam?"

"Actually yes, you know, fruit preserves are on sale right now too, first aisle over there!"

"Oh, but I just love making jams, don't you? There's nothing that can replace that homemade taste!"

"Uh... but... you could just... buy it. Thats sort of a lot easier."

Also overhearing this on campus:

"I would have held his hand, but I'm looking for a serious relationship right now, not just a fling. I need to start thinking about getting married, you know."

Getting asked about "biscuits and gravy" almost every single time I talk about Georgia.

The fact that my freshman year roommate's ex-boyfriend's sister is married to David A. Bednar's son.

6 Degrees of separation, anyone? :D

The first thing that anyone I'm reconnecting with says to me is, "How's the dating world treating you? Are you seeing anyone?"

If the answer is yes: "So, gettin serious maybe? Is marriage in the future?? Have you met the family yet?"

If the answer is No: "Well... you can always go on a mission."

Getting frowned at for wearing a skirt whose hem lands slightly above my knees.

Two words: Bridal Expos.

Two more words: Cupcake Boutiques.

Need I say more?

Roses may be red, but violets are indeed violet.

Two thirds of the world's eggplant is grown in New Jersey.

Once again, you are all a liiittle bit wiser, thanks to yours truly.

PS, I'm at my temp job right now, and I've been here for.... an hour and a half. And we havent started working yet. I mean, I already clocked in and everything, but this is a wee bit redonk style.
I've read two chapters in "The Phantom of the Opera," and checked facebook and emails.
And now I'm writing a post.

I applied for a job yesterday and had an interview, the hours would be perfect with my schedule. Its a janitorial position. Cross your fingers. Should find out by Tuesday.

I think that if I wasn't Mormon, I would be probably be... Jewish Orthodox or something.
Why? Because in religion, you might as well Go Big or Go Home.

Paz Afuera.

A Conversation with the Father from this week.

[the beginning of this conversation was lost in my phone, so it may not be exactly verbatim. nonetheless, it is amusing. enjoy.]

"You missed it. There was almost a fist fight between two parties at the arbitration I am at right now."

"Oh my. What over?"

"Its a long story."

"Wait. Are you texting me from inside a courtroom? Are you allowed to do that?? Hahaha, you rebel."

"Not a courtroom. It's a conference room. And we're on a break."

"Ok ok. Having oodles and bunches of fun, are we?"

"Oh, yeah. I go home tonight, come back next Monday for the week and then come back the following Tuesday for the rest of that week. Good times."

"You're having more fun than me. I have had an exam in literally every single one of my five classes. And the week ain't over yet. Woohoo."

"There's an old saying: 'That which does not kill us only makes us stronger.

Unless we're talking about Chuck Norris, in which case the saying is: 'That which kills us.'"

"Oh Daddy. You always know just what to say."

"True. You know that Mr. T pities the fool who have to take five finals in one week. He pity them."

"Yeah, he probably does. I even pity the fool. Myself. I pity myself. I am the fool. Sad."

"But Mr. T pities the fool what pity herself. Mr. T says leave the pity to himm. Now enough of yo jibba jabba."

"You're such a charmer."

"Righteous."

Ohhhh My Father.

What a Gem of a Man.

Erin's Week. aka Thuper Duper

It is only Wednesday. And yet it has already been "One of Those Weeks."

I had two midterms in a row, one yesterday and one today. For my two most difficult classes, nonetheless.


I texted the Father after I finished yesterday.
"Well that was extremely unpleasant."
"How unpleasant?"
"It was like the colonoscopy of midterm exams."
"Yeah, well at least during a colonoscopy they have the decency to put you to sleep."
Touche.


I'm living off a giant bag of Brand X Honeycomb Cereal right now. Oh, and I have a loaf of bread, and about a third a carton of grapefruit juice. Noms.


I do a lot of homework. A lot. Of homework.


I wish I could just go to school dressed like a slob every day. AKA in my oversized gray hoodie and basketball shorts.


There are-literally-scars on my feet from where my flip flops go from wearing them PROBABLY a liiiittle too much.


I called my... second cousin once removed... I think?.... the other day. She's old. And cool. And she's sending me some nerdy little gifties that have information about our fambly soon.


On Saturday I woke up and found little pieces of kiwi and kiwi peel, seriously, all over my kitchen and living room.
How did I deal with the situation?
I ran away to the apartment down the hall for two hours.
Eventually I donned lysol antibacterial wipes as make-shift gloves and started picking it up.
My neighbor came into my open door and asked what I was doing.
"Cleaning up toxic waste." I answered.
He stopped me and did it himself, because he doesn't have freakish allergies to food items.
And he's an extremely nice fellow.
Then he did my dishes.
That was a good day.


I think it would be fun to duct tape someone to a wall.
Is that weird?


It is very fun to say "Huitzilopochtli."
It is not fun to spell
"Huitzilopochtli."
It also brings up unpleasant memories of a colonoscopy-reminiscent Culture exam.

Sob.

Get that crummin outta my face.

I came to a conclusion this afternoon.

There is absolutely nothing sexy about feet.

Just think about it.

We-literally-walk all over them. Sometimes other people do too.

They touch everything on the ground and, by association, everyone else's feet, and I don't even wanna know where THOSE have been.

You may say, "Oh, but Erin, we wear shoes, Duh!"

You silly naive fool.

Just think about THAT.

You stuff your feet into (hopefully) socks, then shoes, and wear them around all the livelong day, where they get smooshed and sweaty. Not to mention that charming lint-like cottony substance between your toes that my elder brother used to affectionately call "Crummin" as a smallish child.

And lets be honest. Sandals and flip flops hardly even count as shoes. They do virtually no good at all.

And please, don't even get me started on toenails.

So could someone please explain something to me.

Whose bright idea was Footsies, praytell?

Cue this conversation on a date.

"I have a great idea. Let's take both our sicknast sweaty hairy dirty etc feet, and rub them around each other, maybe even interlocking toes as our lovely toenails scratch up on each other's callouses.

Oh yeah. That sounds like GREAT foreplay."

I understand that there are people out there who have a weird, inexplicable affection for feet. Take my dear friend Andrew Paul, or AP, for example. He loves 'em. He even says its one of the first things he notices about a girl. And I mean, hey, I can respect that I guess.

Maybe its just my own neuroses and bizarre issues.

I HATE feet. I especially dislike my own feet. I don't like people even looking at them. I'm oddly self-conscious about them.

AP once told me I have great feet, actually. He even gave me a foot massage one day.

...Honestly, my heart rate went up and I practically hyperventilated out of sheer panic as it was going on. It was... well, terrifying to me for some reason.

Really, the only people that I have willingly allowed to touch my feet for an extended period of time would be the lovely Vietnamese ladies at the salon on the occasional pedicure splurge.

And even when I make that exception, I sit there, certain that they're talking to each other in their foreign tongue about how repulsive my toes are.

One thing's for sure--

I'm pretty positive they don't find them sexy.

PS: My dear friend AP (Andrew Paul) is an actor, you should check out the youtube channel he participates in, as it is quite hilarious sometimes. Also, he plays bass in a band, so you should probably check that out as well. Word, turd.

I may have found my archnemesis.

You may remember from a little while ago, when I wrote about how I needed an archnemesis.

Well, good news.

I think I may have found one.

Let me expound.

I'm currently enrolled in a Spanish Linguistics class for this fall semester. The class is actually a really interesting one, and I really enjoy it. I have a great professor and everything, so its a recipe for success, right??

FALSE.

The first day of class, I noticed that there were some people in there.

You know the type. The type that laughs at every tiny little stupid joke the teacher makes. The ultimate suck ups. The ones that feel the need to comment on every point made, the types who try to correct everyone else, The ones who like to pretend they already know everything.

Yeah, you know the kind.

Heck, maybe you ARE the kind.

In particular, in these last two weeks of class I've noticed that there is one girl in particular that I have grown into an intense dislike for. I don't know her name, and I don't want to.

Today, for example, in class we were talking about the difference between prescriptivism nd descriptivism in language (I cam actually a closet nerd, you see) She started out before class even began, talking about how she grew up in a family that was apparently very grammar conscious, whining about how her dad would always correct them when they made a slight grammatical error while talking, such as "Can i go to the bathroom?" "I don't know, can you?" And continually talking about how annoying it was to be corrected like that, then proceeding to comment on everyone's homework that she could see form her desk. "Oh no, that's not right, its this way." "No, that descriptive, which is not the correct answer." "Well, you wouldn't say Can you make a copy for I, would you? No, It would be 'me.'" Interestingly enough, she decided to add that, although apparently her whole family is incredibly "grammatically conscious," none of them seem to be able to spell.

I wanted to punch her in the face within 4 minutes of entering the classroom.

We also all had the good fortune of hearing her give the EXACT SAME examples of her trialed upbringing throughout class, all accompanied with a snooty air and a know-it-all tone to her voice. But the final straw was when we were debating double negatives.

Bear with me. I understand that I am turning into more and more of a nerd each day of my life, but please try to understand my anger here.

She, being the ultimate all knowing grammar wise woman that she think she is, said that in any and all cases, logically a double negative would actually become a positive, because you're negating the first negative with the second one. If that makes any sense. I don't know. Anyways, she was very vehement about being right on this one, once AGAIN citing her "strict father" as the reason why she knows this.

I decided to jump in with my own opinion, saying something about how a double negative can just emphasize the fact that the statement is negative. Basically, I just tried to spit out something that was the exact opposite of what she said.

Guess who the teacher sided with and agreed with completely?

HOLLA!

This is when I decided that she was my long awaited archnemesis.

I look forward to Monday when I can once again debate every single point she makes.

And who knows? Maybe someday we can both don tights and capes and duke it out physically.

I would win.

Why?

Because I'm feisty.

Yep. I just went there.

Did I mention she has a stupid haircut?

Because she does.

.....Yeah.

It just gets better and better.

So it turns out, I'm allergic to peas.

PEAS.

Whiskey Tango Foxtrot?

Last night I felt the familiar signs of my body going down that ever so delightful ascent into Anaphylactic Shock, after having eaten some peas in an attempt to be healthy.

I should know better by now. That's why I ate cookies for breakfast. Don't gotta tell me twice!

Anywho.

If you were curious, that racks up the food allergies/issues to the following:

1. Tree Nuts

--including, but not limited to, pecans, almonds, walnuts, hazelnuts, macadamia nuts, pine nuts, brazil nuts, pretty much any and every type of nut... excpet Peanuts. Because peanuts are not technically nuts. They are legumes. But that is another rant for another time.

2. Kiwi

--I cannot touch the stuff, for if I do, it makes me break out through and through. My hands, my fingers, lips and mouth, will turn bright red and swell about.

I just wrote a poem. Wow.

3. Milk

--This is the most manageable of my food issues. All I have to do is take a pill before, during, or just after consumption of dairy products, and its all gravy. That is, if gravy were ice cream or yogurt or Nesquick.

4. Peas.

We all know about this one.

And all of the above is in addition to my various physical maladies, which include

-Scoliosis

-Flat Feet

-TMJ

-Off-Track Kneecaps on both legs

-Tennis Elbow

-and for some unexplained reason, I bleed a lot. Not like a hemophiliac, but I just bleed for a while after I hurt myself. There's no reason for it. My blood counts are all normal, and I'm not anemic.

I promise I'm not some weird, pale sickly child-like creature. I eat pretty healthily to be honest, and I go to the gym almost everyday for at least an hour.

Okay, so maybe I am pretty pale. But I blame that on my practically entirely Caucasian ancestry, who probably never really had an affinity for being in the sunlight.

Body FAIL.

Sometimes I'm a Ninja

.....But only sometimes.

Beware, facebook stalking potential mates.

Today, I was talking to my roommates about the not-so-flattering photos of us up on facebook.

I mentioned that my brother, Adam, recently tagged me in all of his old photo albums from up to 5 years ago, AND my mother has also put up her fair share of dated pictures of my siblings and I, thus giving the world access to my awkward early teenage years of braces, red crimped hair, and baggy sweaters.

One of the girls thoughtfully said, "Well, you can untag yourself, you know."

I pondered for a moment, then responded aptly.

"Yeah, I could. But really, I have no shame anymore.

Plus, if a guy is stalking me on facebook, I want him to be able to see that side of me, back in the day as a tot. Its like, my way of warning him, 'Hey. If we got married, our kids might come out lookin funny like I used to. Just a heads up, there could be some buck teeth in your future posterity.'

I mean, I know I look pretty good NOW, so, I'm not really too worried."

A big ol' chunk of my life, in photos.

I bet you're wondering, as you read these various posts I write, Who exactly is this Erin type person? Where does she come from? What did she look like a a young tot, perhaps?

Well, get ready to find out, kids. Because I'm treating you to some ravishing photos of my life in pictures.

On August30, 1990, I was born. It was, like, wonderful.

I looked like a fat Chinese infant for much of my infancy. But I like to think I was a cute lil nugget too.

This is me as a lil toddler, with my elder brother, sister, and mother. Please observe the charming outfits worn by all. Also, the pigtails. Those will make several repeat appearances throughout the lifetime shown here.A little later as a toddler, I found myself immersed in the Hawaiian culture. I have been incredibly culture (and beach conscious) ever since.

Once again, Here I am, being, in my dear friend Trey's words, "A lil nugget."

As a child. I found myself prone to thinking up many philosophies and ideas in my spare time, encouraging my wit and quickness of mind.

I also began to gather an even more impressive sense of style, of which people would be jealous for the duration of my childhood.

At the ripe age of 5, I began my dance career in a tap/ballet class, that only endured for a matter of weeks, and after my final recital, that was the end of that.

Please take note, that this is the only photo from my middle school years that I have allowed to be put online. Why, you ask? Because so began the awkward years of my life, enduring for QUITE a while. Please note the attractive buck teeth.

The following photo is one taken on a rather odd Sunday Afternoon, when my younger siblings and I created a band entitled "The Stinky Bunny, in which I dubbed myself Lead Singer, "La'Tisha." Caution: What is shown below here is not pretty. Just warning you ahead of time.

Fortunately, by the time I reached High School, I had started to, how do you say, "Grow a Personality."

This personality was encouraged by joining Theatre at my High School, and performing in many musicals from there on out.

It ought to be mentioned as well, that I went through a "Really really really, obscene big baggy sweaters" phase, in which I wore my older sister's hoodies constantly, and even purchased a drama sweater two sizes too large in order to continue my hefty sweater obsession.

In addition, I was dying my hair auburn as well. And I didn't seem to know how to style it. And I had braces. STOP JUDGING ME.

Eventually, I began experimenting with my hair, and started attempting to dress like a regular person. I went through some setbacks, such as crimping that bright red hair of mine, before ginally settling on straightening it, and cutting it, alternating for years between long and short hair.

Short Hairs

Long Hairs

At some point between the two stages of hair, I went to Brighman Young University in Provo, Utah.

And the rest is history.

Stay tuned for more exciting developments in the Life of Erin. Coming soon to a computer screen near you.

Hula Hoobie Whatie?

You guys.

What if I did something crazy?

Something crazy that isn't actually all that crazy?

But the crazy thing that I would be doing would possibly potentially get me a lot of attention/publicity/etc etc?

That is, if I went about doing it the right way.

Okay. What I'm saying is,

What if I tried to break a world record?

For.... now wait for it......

Hula Hooping.

The world's longest amount of time spent hula hooping with a single hula hoop.

Who's to say I couldn't do it?

Or who's to say I couldn't do it for at least 24 hours? That would still be pretty legit.

Especially if I got sponsors or whatnot.

Dude, I could potentially get a lot of attention and traffic to the blog if I did this.

Not to mention, I like attention. Let's be honest, who doesn't like attention? And doing something crazy like hula hooping for 24 hours could get some attention.

WORD.

In other news, I recommend you look up Schmoyoho's youtube channel. They made the "Bed Intruder Song" and have auto tuned a buttload of other hilarious news videos with some crazypants peoples.