Friday, December 15, 2006

We Real Cool


Yesterday my coolness was out of control.

Chup and I went to Salt Lake because he had two auditions.

(Chup auditions for a living. He has a couple a week. I just say that in case you think that going to auditions in Salt Lake is an annual event.)

I usually go to his auditions because, as it turns out, I am his very shiny good-luck charm (even though I stay in the car the whole time.) Yesterday I played the Nintendo DSLITE that MD gifted us. I pretty much destroy any Tetris game. I am so good at that mind bending frivolity.

We are so cool. We have a Nintendo DSLITE. It think to myself.

In between auditions we follow a hot tip to Salt Lake's premiere donut factory on 7th South and 7th East called Banbury Cross. Sprinkles, twists, Bavarian Chocolate, Chocolate cake and cinnamon donuts. They all look so sweet, lumpily lying on trays waiting for your consumption.

We are so cool. We follow tips to obscure bakeries. I think to myself.

We drive across 7th East from one end of the valley for the next audition. Then we head north to 2-15 and over to Foothill Blvd where we shop at all the high-end toy stores. Chup loves a good toy shop, the kind where Lego boxes set up their kingdom. I like to look at the action figures. Chup thinks it's funny. One year for Christmas he actually gave me an Army action figure, complete with guns and knives and anti-terror gear. It was hot.

We are so cool. We shop at high-end toy stores. I think to myself.

I've got a list of Salt Lake's best restaurants according to several polls and magazines. Occasionally, when the Red Iguana is too West, we try a new place. After toy shopping we walked over to MacCool's Public House, which is an authentic Irish Pub. Very cozy with lots of drinks on tap, Chup tried the fish and chips while I went for their portobello sandwich. We passed on the shots our server recommended as we are Mormon have decided against that lifestyle.

We are so cool. We eat at Irish Pubs and drink Coke. I think to myself.

It was getting dark so we get on 2-15 and head South. We pass Parley's canyon. I ask Chup if he would like to take a small detour and stop by Park City on the way home. He looks at me as if I had concocted a plan to save him thousands of dollars a year by switching his auto insurance.

We are so cool. We are so spontaneous. I think to myself.

Park City is snowy, and dotted with Christmas lights. The night skiing has lit up the sky, and I am optically getting everything I want from a resort town. We shop for awhile, picking up presents for Chup's family members. I find Rue 21, where my Nie shops occasionally and find some cutie shirts for yours truly.

We are so cool. We shop Park City. I think to myself.

And so it was that I texted my Tweeny, twelve-year-old niece Little L, via my phone, while window shopping. I thought she might want to witness the ever oozing coolness of her Auntie.

Dear L,
I am your new best friend!
Love, Auntie C

I sent.

She will think I am so cool for being a texting Aunt. I never had a texting Aunt! I think to myself.

Dear Auntie C,

I get her reply.

You are weird.

And upon reading that message it was though all my coolness had gathered up into a big blob and seeped out of my body via my armpits. Because if a Tween doesn't think you are cool, what, pray tell, else matters?