Minivan mix

I finally made a mixed tape for the minivan. It had a variety of songs from different genres: pop, rock, country and jazz. I overheard my 13-year-old and his friends listening to Billionaire by Travie McCoy, Featuring Bruno Mars. I think Bruno Mars has an incredible voice. Travie McCoy is from a small town in my neck of the woods. I added it to the playlist thinking that would impress a teenager who is impossible to impress. Song four played on the van’s CD player. (It’s a six disc changer bitches. That’s how I roll!) “I want to be a billionaire so f-ing bad!” (rhymes with trucker) I guess that means he really, really, reallywants to be a billionaire. My 6-year-old gasped. My daughter threw her hands over her mouth. I fumbled for the volume control. “Mom, what are you thinking?” he laughed. “There are different versions of that song.” I won’t pretend that I never swear in front of my kids. I try not to, but I worked in a newsroom for a decade. It’s a hard habit to break. To make a long story short, I am making another mix for our road trips. I heard Miley Cyrus has a new album. Hanna Montana doesn’t cuss, right?

“We Can’t Stop”

I have said this a million times while driving. It is usually followed by, Can you hold it until we get home?

It’s our party we can do what we want

So, off the bat I have to explain to my kids that just because it’s your party doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want. There are still rules.

(no drama)
It’s our party we can say what we want (Mike will made)
It’s our party we can love who we want
We can kiss who we want
We can sing what we want

Who is Mike?

Red cups and sweaty bodies everywhere

If it’s that hot inside and everyone is sweating, you may want to turn up the AC.

Hands in the air like we don’t care
‘Cause we came to have so much fun now
Bet somebody here might get some now

Get some? I can hear the question now, “What are they getting Mom?” Potato chips. What’s a party without potato chips, right?

(Okay, fast forward….)

And we can’t stop
And we won’t stop
Can’t you see it’s we who own the night?
Can’t you see it’s we who ’bout that life?

Bout? She should have proofread the lyrics somebody else wrote for her.

A short period of intense activity of a specified kind.
An attack of illness or strong emotion of a specified kind.

attack – fit

( fast forward….)

To my home girls here with the big butt
Shaking it like we at a strip club
Remember only God can judge ya
Forget the haters ’cause somebody loves ya

If they loved ya they would give you something other than dollar bills.

And everyone in line in the bathroom
Trying to get a line in the bathroom

Hanna Montana! Listen to Nancy Reagan and Just Say No!

Then, there is a part where she stops singing about illicit drugs and screams like a goat. So, we won’t be adding Miley’s new song to the minivan mixed tape.


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