Have Minivan, Will Travel.

Today I drove to work in my new new-to-me minivan, a.k.a mom-mobile, a.k.a four-digit-balling family style pimp wagon, a.k.a fun bus…or whichever name you so choose.  I’ve noticed that its common practice to give your minivan an expressive name.  I think parents have decided that as long it’s not referred to as a “minivan”, it still helps us retain some coolness.  I completely agree with this.
“How was it?”, you ask?
It drives like a muthafuckin’ dream, bitches.
Though, yes, it does drive well – it’s worlds away from my big hunk of shit Chevy truck – the only way to describe how it felt was…ADULT.

The other day, it was mentioned over on another blog that I make living in Las Vegas seem like living in every other city.  What???  Have I really made my life in the most abnormal town on Earth actually…(GASP!) normal???  The local Las Vegan in me screams, “Yes! I’ve succeeded!”, because this is something that most of us strive for.  Living in a town that is full of transients, tourists, and fake people whose life is consumed with where they can get their next drink or whether they can get their skanky ass on the club pages of the local magazine can be difficult.  Once we reach a certain age, or have children especially, most of us pretty much stay away from the Strip as much as possible.  We go in search of parks, local farmers markets, or events that can enrich our lives and the lives of our children in an attempt to live as much of a “normal” life as possible.  And it’s completely doable!  Just don’t let your kids take the cards from the men near the casinos…you don’t want them trading pictures of naked women like Bakugan cards…which is also very doable, here.

Truthfully, some parents in Las Vegas are different.  Partying and general debauchery all within the vicinity of their children are a common occurence.  I’ve been there.  I lived it.  I don’t want my kids to be like I was.  I’d like to preserve their innocence just a little while longer.  In just a few short years people that I know are going to start wondering why their kids are already getting plastered,  being sexually active, and even having babies.  We all did it and those of us that have been here since we were teenagers have a habit of still acting like we haven’t aged a bit.  It rubs off on our children.  It’s a curse of sorts.  I’ve been friends with the same people for so long that I’ve found it difficult to make new ones that I can relate to.  Mike and I have talked about finding somewhere else to go before Gummy starts school, because Las Vegas can be normal to a certain extent, but it can never be a truly family oriented place.

When I told my boss this week that I was buying a minivan, she reminded me of how much I’ve changed and how far I’ve come since I interviewed with her over 2 years ago.  It’s true.  My life did a total 180 and, as she put it, I’m on the top of things now. She also mentioned that certain other men that were in my life can fuck off, because they got what was coming to them.  That’s why I love her.

I’ve traded multiple men and oodles of relationship drama for one glorious one that means the world to me and is better than anyone I’ve ever met.  I’ve traded inevitable spinsterhood for marriage.  I’ve traded talking about Barbie porn for pregnancy.  And this summer I will trade topless swimming with splashing in the pool with my new daughter.
Ok, so I still like topless/naked swimming.  I’ll just only do it with my husband, not whomever happens to be with me at the time.  Preferably in a tropical ocean under the moon (I just recently watched Breaking Dawn. The movie totally sucked, but that part got me a little excited. But, so did the dessert that Mike gave me to eat while I watched it).

This blog has taken some turns and the context may be a little different, but all in all, life is good.  Though I can’t say that this ho has officially become a housewife – since I work and all – I’m definitely as close as I am going to get right now.  If traditional housewives were sex loving, tattooed, beer guzzling, foul-mouthed bitches, that is.  There are some things about me that just won’t change, peeps.

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