I have a fun new nickname.

Let me spin you a tale.

The summer that I moved into my current apartment complex, I used to hang out with all guys all the time. They were easiest to make friends with, and I didn't know my roommates very well yet... so it worked out. Guys have always been easier to be friends with anyways.

On the fourth of July, a group of us were at the ward pool/volleyball/water ballooons party, and took a break to go inside the lodge and watch some baseball game on TV. One of the guys, Murph, threw himself on the ground and demanded, "Erin. Give me a massage."

After some protesting, I gave in, and was rubbing his back when he promptly yelled at me,

"Geez, Erin. You have bird hands."

What?

This year, a couple weeks after halloween, a guy I knew came over to my apartment. We were just sitting and chatting, and he was talking about massages. I told him that I have been told I'm not very good at massages, because I have, quote, "Bird Hands." A few minutes later, he flops his leg up on top of me and says irreverently,


"Will you rub my calf with your bird hands?"

Needless to say, I did not oblige.



So I would like to beg the question, what is it exactly that makes my hands "Bird Hands?" Last time I checked, birds do not have hands. Am I right?

Well when you google image search "bird hands," a few interesting pictures come up. Here are a few of my favorites.

Nope... I don't think this one applies to me.

Spirit Fingers? Jazz hands?!

 Oh dear heavens. Please tell me this is not what my hands look like.

Not long ago, my roommate was telling her boyfriend about these two stories, when he apparently decided to refer to me almost exclusively as "bird fingers." He claims it is a term of endearment.

Suuuuuuureeee.

He also occasionally calls me "Mom."

I'm still not sure how to take that.

Bradley Cooper and the Zombies.

You guys. 

Last night - - 

Most. Epic. Dream. 

Ever. 

Here's what went down. 

For some inexplicable reason, I often dream about animals, specifically dogs. Of three memorable dreams I've had this week, dogs were in two of them. 

Scene: Suburban Atlanta, the year 2013. 

My sister Brynna and my Mom have gifted me with a pug for my birthday. It was a most joyous thing, because pugs are my favorite dog. They're so ugly they're cute. It was uncreatively, but aptly named, Pugsley. 

I decided to travel to Utah with my best friend Bradley Cooper, in order to show off my new dog to family and friends out there. Bradley Cooper and his younger sister accompanied me. 

Now this is where it gets interesting. 

One night, as we are all settling down to sleep in the living room of a friend's home, we hear on the radio that a strange new disease has been discovered, and is affecting people very strangely. We weren't too worried, and slept anyways. 

Several hours later we awoke and found there was a massive power outage. We pulled out a hand crank radio and heard an emergency announcement that the country had become infested with zombies, and they were highly dangerous. As we noted some of the afflicted out on the streets, we decided to travel back home to Georgia ASAP. On our journey, which surprisingly only took about a day, we were pursued by zombies and other inexplicably evil people, who wanted to exploit the disease for world power or something. Eh, who knows. Also, the evil guys were all from Long Island... and were very much mafioso-types. 

We ended up in Cape Canaveral, and were blasted off into a low-flying space station, where we recuperated and rested up, and helped to heal up a badly wounded Bradley Cooper. Once he was all better, we landed back on solid ground and took refuge in my family's now abandoned house attic, taking with us a teleportation device that would allow us to transport back up to the space station at any time.

We were armed with massive guns and machinery, and were ready to fight our way out of there. In the attic, we made friends with a group of girl scouts, who were also hiding from the zombies. These girl scouts, however, were a mix between brownies and kamikazes. They were hard core. And I liked it. 

Picture this...

Combined with this. 

As we all heard the zombie troops growing closer, we took refuge in my old bedroom closet, loaded up with various weapons and trusty Pugsley, who, it turned out, had quite the affinity for zombie battling. 

The zombies began to storm the house. They fought through the attic and downstairs, making their way to our floor. the second they burst into my bedroom, we took aim and let them have it. What resulted was an epic battle that could only be described as legen.... wait for it.... dary. 

Bradley Cooper, as it turns out, is kind of a wuss when it comes to zombie battle, and didn't do too much other than shoot his AK-47 blindly into the crowd. The girl scouts, however, fought valiantly, and were unfortunately massacred by the zombie legion. In the end, it was just me, Bradley Cooper, his unnamed sister, and Pugsley. 

As we were doing our best to fight off the last of them, i was knocked unconscious by a piece of falling debris. As I blacked out, I saw the last few zombies being blown to bits by Sister of BC, and Pugsley rushing to my side as my mother appeared in the doorway. It was at that time that Pugsley, with his canine wisdom, activated the teleporter and whooshed us off to the space station once again. 

I awoke a period of time later, in my somewhat in disrepair house, with my mother patting Pugsley by my side. She told me a story of the zombies inexplicably dying off after a period, and the CDC creating a cure for their bites. She then related what she had seen that last night-- the fighting and dying somberly girl scouts, and the three mysterious figures that teleported at the last moment, when all she could see in the darkness was the glow of their eyes. Pugsley barked proudly, and I explained excitedly, "Mom! That was Bradley Cooper and me! That was us! We took refuge in a space station just above here. Those girl scouts were so brave... so true..." And i began to sob. 

My mother replied, "What?! There's a space station above us??!" 

To which I responded jovially,  

"Yeah, Mom!! They have those! Its a thing!" 

And then I woke up. 

Forever Lazy... or blue worm of death?

Yep, you heard that right. I, Erin, am the proud owner of a Forever Lazy. 

I'm sure you've seen those commercials around the television set urrea lately. Theyre hard to miss.

Well let me tell you, just how they measure up to the hype.

We initially photo'd me sporting the sassy loungewear in style, with a little sorority squat. 

So sexual. 

As you can see, the shape of the Forever Lazy leaves something to be desired. The legs are a wee bit short, the sleeves a wee bit long, giving the pant area a gaucho sort of feel. Mm... cozy? 

Has an oh-so-handy "secret compartment" or as the less-couth may call it, butt-flap.
And yes, those are Dave and Buster boxers. You may be jealous. I'll allow it. 

I know what you're thinking. "I am far too comfortable to remove my pantaloons in order to participate in bodily functions. What now? Well they have an answer for that too. Not only does it unzip in the butt... but there's also the option to unzip it in the front for you manly-type fellows. How convenient! 

Pip pip, cheerio. I'm off to the races and whatnot. 

Of course, I had to ensure they were as versatile as the ad promised. And its true. You can be sassy and classy in any occasion with the Forever Lazy. 

Now I admit, they were soft. They were even mildly snuggly. But they left something to be desired. I couldn't quite understand the allure. But as I was pondering over this predicament, unbeknownst to me, a creature was creeping up from the giant onesie with stunning, and terrifying, stealth. 

Fe... it has a hood..... TAKE MOAR PICTURESSSS

silhouette of loungewear or bank robbery disguise?

80% sure this could be mistaken for sketchy photo of bigfoot. 

Once I put my hands in the dangerously low pockets, this is what I looked like. 

Oh dear sweet powers that be.... ITS ALIVE

Before I knew what to do, this creature had taken over. It was all I could do to utter a warning to my companions.....
"Fly you fools!!" 

oh hai. 

IMMA GONNA EATCHOO. 

Consider yourself warned. 

At least I have good things to say about the socks. They are very appropriately blue and socky. Indeed. 

Oh hai, 2012. What up.

So. Its 2012 now.

Two thousand and twelve years.

Etcetera.


2011.... yep, its gone now.

Which begs the question,

What exactly did I accomplish and or gain in 2011?

Peh. Probably not terribly much. But lets see anyways, just for kicks and giggles.



I lived in the same place for an entire year and then some. Oh Glenhood, you have been pretty good to me for the most part. Amy and Fe have been aight roommates, at least in comparison to those of questionable nature I have had in the past. So... yay.


Four hermit crabs crawled their way into my heart... then three of them departed upsettedly. But none made such a great impact as Captain Phil, the ill fated and adorable first of the Paulukaitis Hermit Crab Legacy. He is sorely missed, as are Nilla and Goober. But we're glad to have Optimus Prime and Madam Claw, along with their tankmates Xena Warrior Princess, Ninja, and Nixon.


I became a self-proclaimed hermit crab enthusiast. I even gave my brother and sister each their own hermit crab for Christmas when I went home to GA. They named them Rose and Crabby Wan Kenobi.
I'm so proud of my fam.


I got a new job. I have happily worked at BYUIS for over a year now, and I quite like it. Its fun times with good people, and I enjoy what I do. I like helping people solve their problems. Its fulfilling.





Now I guess I ought to accomplish something in 2012.

But what, praytell?


Get a Big Girl job. Not that the jobs I have held up until this point aren't completely legitimate, but once I graduate, I won't be able to work on campus anymore. So I'm going to need to get a real people grown up job. Dang, how I will miss the sheltered student life.


That's another thing-- graduate. I'm going to graduate from college in April. Holy crap.
And again, I reiterate:
HOLY CRAP. I'm going to freakin GRADUATE.
Well 4 years goes by quicker than one might anticipate.


Move. I'm most certainly planning on moving out of Provo/Utah once I finish school. Most likely back to Georgia.
Although, If I happened to get a coveted flight attendant job, I will likely relocate again. Some hypothetical situations would involve Dallas, Newark, Chicago, or Las Vegas. Who the heck knows where I'll end up. I'm certainly looking forward to figuring it out.


Go to California. I've never been to California, you know. And I might actually get to go there too, for the first time this year. When I graduate, my parents are coming out, and we're apparently all meeting up with my dad's cousins in Sacramento, whom he hasn't seen in fourty-some-odd years. So that could be highly entertaining, and will at least be an adventure of some kind.


Get a dog.
HOLY CRAP DO I EVER WANT A DOG.
Now this will depend on what kind of job I get, and hours I end up working, etc. But I firmly resolve that, if it is within my financial and physical capabilities, that I will adopt a dog this year. I freakin want one. You don't even know.


And last, and most importantly,
Go to Harry Potter World in Florida.
I've never been.
I was one of those kids that used to read the books behind my textbooks in fifth grade and had outfits and parties devoted to the cause. My sister and I had a Harry Potter themed birthday party before all the Harry Potter themed merchandise even came out. Like a boss. I was one of those kids that went to each midnight book opening and dressed up for all of them, shamelessly.
Sorry, what was that? You weren't one of those kids?
Sucks for you. My life is awesome.
And I swear I will get to Harry Potter World somehow.


Auuuld Lang Syne, blah de blah blah blah. Happy New Year, folks.

Now excuse me while I go attend my LAST first day of classes.

Like a boss.

Madam Claw

My roommate knows me so well.

For Christmas, she got me another hermit crab. .......and a "Forever Lazy," but we'll get to that later.

She dubbed the little critter Madam Claw, a very Bond-Villain-esque name, and she has been crawling her way into our hearts ever since.

Crabs and pajamas with butt flaps... What more can a girl ask for?