We all know the unspoken road trip rules. Driver: Pilot, Captain. Front Seat Passenger: Co-Pilot, First Mate. Everyone Else: Audience. This means it’s on the front of the van to keep the passengers not only safe, but entertained. With that said, I’m sad to report that there have been some performances falling very flat. Mellencamp and Springsteen are always safe bets but apparently someone didn’t get that memo. Look up Mondo Cozmo. Do it right now. Listen to any of the songs, I promise they all sounds the same. Now, the fact that I know all of the words to even one of those songs is a problem. For some reason a member of the team has recently become their #1 fan and won’t let us forget it. I mean, they were on Kimmel so good for them. But enough is enough. I’m sure I’ll have their basic boy lyrics shoved down my throat in a Pepsi commercial at some point in the next 4-6 months, so let’s lay off until then. Thanks.
Love is in the Cheeto scented van air. The tattooed photographer and the less tattooed trash horse have been exchanging glances, sharing laughs and have even been found bunking in various La Quinta’s and Sheraton’s across the midwest. That’s fine, you do you, but not when the rest of us are forced to suffer. Between the constant bottle flipping on each others backs and the Creed sing a longs it’s really starting to take a toll on the rest of us. I never want to judge the love of others but when you’re living in a 15 passenger van you become part of their story, so here’s my truth. This is great for now, but will inevitably end in heartbreak or a tuck and roll out of the van. We shall see.
Give Me Taco Bell Or Give Me Death
If you say you don’t enjoy at least one item off of the Taco Bell menu, you’d be lying. There is something for everyone: classic hard or soft tacos, burritos and quesadillas, some dessert options, and even salads for the psychopaths that go to a fast food restaurant and order those. So why should my sassy southern vanmate and I be made to feel like criminals when we take the van out for some late night TB? The answer is we shouldn’t. We’re hauling around a 36 pack of strawberry Pop Tarts for our annoying kid brother that takes the pictures but god forbid I go get a cheesy gordita crunch after a hard day’s work. So the next morning I received this text. Oh shit, the jig is up. I can either deny it or accept it. And how can I go around preaching to #liveaunthentically and not fess up? So that’s what I did (after denying it first).