Posted by: Kristy | March 31, 2009

I feel my cool factor slipping as we speak

See that petite woman standing in the corner, holding the poor teen-aged girl captive as she rambles on … and on … and on?

The one who looks like she could be in her late 30s or early 40s and still has it going on to a degree but smacks a bit like crazy about the eyes? And has fingers stained not with tobacco but with ink?

The one on her second glass of Reisling who won’t SHUT UP about the play she went to last week or how aggravated she is with the government or the new vein in which she wants to take the Music Scene section of the newspaper for whom she works? Oh, yeah, and has a wiener dog poking his head out of the Louis Vuitton carrier bag sitting at her feet?

Yeah, that’s me.

At least, I’m afraid it will be me.

As excited as I am to be a first-time aunt come December-ish, I’m a little freaked out, too.

I have this deep, inner fear of being nutty Aunt Kristin. The one who lives in New York with her wiener dog named Earnie in her little one-bedroom apartment who brings cupcakes from Magnolia Bakery for birthdays and graduation.

You know, the cool one who creates “special” time with each niece and nephew alone when they graduate from high school, bringing them out to Manhattan for a week of culture and Broadway and sample sales.

The one who is all hip and trendy for a while but then slowly fades into the strange aunt who smells funny and you have to kiss her cheek at Christmas and act like she’s not smelly.

That teen-aged girl? The beautiful one nodding and smiling and laughing in the scene above? Yeah, in a few years she’ll start telling her friends stories like this: “Yeah, my dad’s sister. She’s weird. Like, crazy writer weird. She never married. Or had her own kids. Just a fat, short wiener dog. Probably because she smells like paper and dusty books. And is weird. I mean, she used to be uber cool, and pretty cute when she was younger, but … I dunno what happened. Yeah.”

WHAT IF THAT’S ME? The SIL promised that even if I do start do go batty she’ll still let her chillin visit me sans chaperon. She’s so sweet. 🙂

So I figure I have to start planning now. I need to come up with Steps to Coolness Retention, also known as How Not to Become the Crazy Spinster Aunt.

I would say the first one would be to remind myself of my innate awesomeness daily. “Self, you are a rock star. Just sayin’.”

2. Invest in a lifetime supply of Clinique “Happy.” After five years that has become my signature. It’s such a perfect mix of citrus and makes me think of spring. (As an ex-boyfriend put it, “I don’t know what it’s called. I just smell it, even in the store, and think, “Oh, Kristin.” I like that he said that. It makes me happy.) Hopefully in 20 or 30 years it will serve a new purpose in not luring men but helping to not repel my family. Or other normal, sane people. Cover the scent of lonely wafting off me.

3. Find my Earnie and the perfect Vuitton carrier to start my signature look NOW.

4.  Two words: Gym. Membership. (Oh, wait, have that. Maybe I should just up my usage. At least I’ll be the fit crazy aunt.)

5. Two more words: Brooklyn. Loft. (Heck, yes! Except … I really like eating and, you know, paying rent and buying shoes and having money and such.)

6. Follow through on my promise to start traveling more. Maybe eventually I can be crazy like fox. Not crazy-insane-crazy. Yeah, I’m laughing at that sentiment, too.

Dan claims I have nothing to fear as he is well on his way to becoming the eccentric uncle to his three sisters’ (who all are unmarried and childless, by the way, so the boy has no basis for this insanity) children. This is a complete fabrication because he neither smells like tobacco and dirty socks nor has a creepy vibe about him.

Plus, he’s too finicky about his hair and hates to be scruffy, so he’ll never have greasy hair perpetually in need of a haircut nor a disgusting mustache that acts as a holder for food bits and other miscellaneous substances.

His only characteristic that puts him in danger of said crazy status is that he’s A. a nerd and B. the second smartest man I know, which just makes him this side shy of too smart for his own good. Therefore, I scoff at his unfounded fear.

Someday, when he’s living in Washington D.C., being brilliant and working for some agency contracted by the government, is married to some politically minded super model and his kids are in a private school where they’re teaching them advanced physics in preschool, he’d better come visit me in New York and at least pretend to like my fat, stubby dog and not think I’m a loser. Then I’ll show HIM what crazy looks like. Yeah. Yeah, take THAT my friend.

My plan is to somehow find a way to make this projected image of me at 70 synonymous with “amazing awesomeness.”

crazy_old_lady

(Photo courtesy of this Web site.)

I have 45 years. Better get started now.

Anyone else have any suggestions for Steps for Coolness Retention? Let’s hear ’em!

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Responses

  1. wait, you’re going to be an aunt? YAY! that’s great! Congrats to you and to Matt and Brittany too.

    And you will perpetually be the cool aunt. I don’t think you have anything to worry about there. Question: When you have the awesome loft in Brooklyn and all the cupcakes, friends can escape suburbia and come visit too, right? 🙂

  2. You are a funny girl. Just imagine this wit plus 20 years of added wisdom and experience. You’ll be the most awesome aunt ever, even if no longer actively cool.

  3. you sound like a cool aunt to me 🙂 Nice theme by the way *wink*


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