Please ignore the weirdo who decided to film themselves playing Halo and set it to this sweet jam. It is the only video I could find that wasn’t porny and was the actual song.
In the words of Mase…WELCOME BACK! I am ending blog hiatus. If I am being completely honest, I totally missed it. I know, I found this to be quite shocking, too, seeing as I whined endlessly about it. Also, my class is finally over and I want to trash talk the nerd alerts that mocked me all semester in a public forum.
Mostly, though, I am bringing the blog back because I wanted to tell my readers how trashy my family is and I realized that I had not yet shared my best story with them. Seriously, I just remembered that this ACTUALLY happened like 2 weeks ago. I am pretty sure this memory was just too traumatic and I’ve been blocking it out for the past 12 years.
Unfortunately, I do not have a picture of the actual van. It was infinitely better than that one as it was two-tone. The top was blue and the bottom was black, with a matte finish because those colors were spray painted over a vibrant magenta, which I had convinced my adoring father was an awesome van color at the ripe old age of six. The van also had fur walls, the ceiling was covered in burlap, there was a mini fridge and (drum roll please) a bed in the back. I feel the need to clarify here that my dad IS NOT a molester; it was the ’70’s OK? I’m told it was totally bitchin’ at the time. I am also told my dad once drank 151 out of a bong, so I guess take that with a grain of salt.
Now merely owning the van was traumatizing enough. My gosh, I was mortified that it was in the driveway. Sadly for me, though, my parents actually made me ride in it. Now, being a passenger in that creep wagon sounds pretty bad in its own right. No one would want to be seen rolling around town in that creep wagon, but it gets worse.
To make room for all those awesome accouterments dear old dad had to ditch everything except for the passenger seat. So there are only two seats…for three people. Most people might do the math and say oh perhaps we should take the car we also own, but not Dad. Oh no, instead he just got out a lawn chair and loaded that in the back, next to the mini fridge, in front of the bed. Good for me I guess, because apparently my life was the most valued as I got the only seat with a seatbelt. Naturally, Dad was at the helm, which left my poor mother in the lawn chair.
This is just as awful as you can imagine, maybe even worse. Every time the van accelerated, the lawn chair would tip back violently. Each time Dad slammed on the brakes, which was often since he tailgates like whoa, the chair would collapse slightly smushing my poor mom in its nylon weaves and aluminum frame.
Gah, I barf in my mouth just thinking about it. Seriously, we were that trashy. Eventually we upgraded to a less creepy, on account of its windows, version. I was certainly no less embarrassed by it, but at least everyone could strap themselves in safely.