I hate minivans.
Don't get me wrong. I'm not ashamed to admit that I covet that big wide open space between unruly passengers. And the remote control side doors are practically orgasmic.
You mean they close like all by themselves? *Drool*
But minivans just scream "mom" or "really whipped dad" (heh) to me and I already ooze enough of that, thank you very much, with my half undone nursing bra, yoga pants, and shirt with so many spit up stains they sort of make a cool design.
Can I tell you how many people told me they liked my hair cut this week? It was because they saw me after my bi-weekly-if-I'm-lucky hair washing.
I realize that with this admission I will probably incite most of my gorgeous, intelligent, and extremely buxom (or well endowed, er, ahem) readers, but I stand firm in support of my fellow tens of moms who adamantly refuse to give in to the tempting back seat tables and drop down DVD players with head sets and remote controls and automatically closing trunks and enough room in between children that you don't have to constantly scream at them and cup holders for everyone.
That's right extra cup holders. I SPIT UPON YOU.
I demand trunk space damnit! And hinged doors that close with raw human force! And all my children in a row so they can pass french fries and chocolate milkshakes and smack each other in the head on long trips!
Yeah. I love my SUV.
I love that big expensive gas tank. Yes I do.
And that one long back seat with three car seats squished together.
At least I'll never be accused of driving a Mommy-Mobile.