rover over.

i won’t lie to you. i drove a minivan and i was feeling it. 

so, i had a fabulous/eventful weekend with my lovely girlfriends (not to be confused with my girlfriend, princess oreo, who, for some strange reason was not invited). for starters, my car exploded. ok, i mean it didn’t like have flames or anything shooting out of the hood, but it’s broken beyond repair and there was some boiling anti-freeze/witches brew type action which helped heighten the overall effect. after propositioning both a mechanic and a man at enterprise, a minivan was rented, transportation was set and eventful bachelorette activities ensued, including but not limited to: mint chocolate chip ice cream teeth brushing, drink spillage, toe smashage, misuse of/assault with maracas, creepy bachelors, not creepy naked old man hand holding, slow dancing, penis glitter tattoos, living a teenage dream, late night food runs in the minivan, microphone stealing, girly men drinking washington apple shots, suspicion of kidnapping, unwanted dancing attack/humpage by strangers, jersey shore marathon, general antagonizing/insulting of guidos/everyone else, removal from bar, sidewalk chilling and regurgitating of whole french fries. yes, i know you want more. you want the details. how do you brush your teeth with ice cream? where did you find this naked man? how can you throw up an entire french fry/swallow an entire french fry in the first place? for those answers, feel free to contact me/be around me in the next couple of months and my great love for dramatic storytelling will take over and you can get the whole scoop, including accurate impersonations. for now, i would like to get back to this minivan. i am kinda obsessed with it. you might not be aware of this, but minivans are nice as shit on the inside and have awesome features which were clearly not present when you or i were sitting in the back of one drinking juice boxes and feeding our fathers 3 year old m&ms from under the seat (what? you never did that? lindsey did. she’s a beta alpha beta, a bad ass bitch, if you will. we’re related, obvs). you may have noticed that minivans are still heinous on the outside; some things never change. hey, minivans aren’t perfect, but let’s be honest, i am. i have no clue what the outside of this thing looked like, other than it was van-like and fugly, and i’m not positive on either the make or model, i just know that the inside was magical, the doors were cool, and driving it was an enthralling and pleasurable experience. when papa bear told me the rover was doneso and had to be replaced, i was really tempted to tell him about the torrid weekend affair i had with this damn minivan and have one of my very own waiting for me in the garage at home. mine would have had several tiny televisions and pink track lighting. but, alas, even i’m not cool enough to rock a minivan, regardless of how truly luxurious their interiors may be. 

so, with a tear in my eye (i love you landrover, may you rest in peace/be sold quickly on craigslist) and hope in my heart for the day when i may receive a minivan to have and to hold (with automatic sliding doors, keyless start and an alarmingly roomy interior), i wish for each of you, my dear friends, a life of naked man hand holding and the realization of your very own teenage dream (vodka shots).

minivan lovin'. pure joy.

don't let his age fool you. this man had some of the softest skin my hands have ever touched, plus he helped us find the bar.

the "it looks like you're wearing a midget fannypack" description is by far the most accurate.