Saturday, following my final exam, I called up some friends and invited myself over to their house. They were in the middle of a massive home improvement project, so I parked myself on their couch, opened the copy of British Ideal Home I had just bought, turned on Flip This House, and settled in for some quality zoning out. A couple of minutes later, my friend interrupted my reverie:
Her: "Canary?"
Me: *mumbling to self in poor British accent* "Fix two blossom hooks... Blahs-um huhks... Blah... Blahsum... to form branches and put... BRAHNCH-his... to form BRAHNCH-his and poot... your favourite jewellery... fav-or-iht jew-lry... jew... JEWL-hry..."
Her: "Canary? What are you doing?"
Me: "Hmm? What?"
Her: "You're talking to yourself. In a bad British accent."
Me: "It's not me. It's this magazine."
Her: "Explain."
Me: "Look at it."
Her: *looks over my shoulder*
Me: "What does that say?" *pointing to sidebar*
Her: *speaking in a bad British accent* "Fix two blahsum hoooooks on the wahl to four-m brahnchez..."
Me: "See? It's this magazine."
Her: "Right. Carry on, then."
Me: "Pip pip."
I'm telling you, it's taken me days - DAYS - to get through this magazine. Normally I flip flip flip through the pages and soak up their content through a strange mixture of telepathy, assumption and osmosis, but with British Ideal Home? Not so much. I'm reading everything aloud and in a really bad accent, so it's taking an uncommonly long time to get through it. What's more, the magazine has seeped into my brain and I'm now inserting non-American terminology and references into my conversations. Yesterday I told my coworker that we should "pop into Debenhams" on our lunch hour. And I told my office cleaning crew that they "need not worry about the rubbish bin." I called my mother "mum."
But I can't stop. I'm even typing British, for the love of pete. My spellchecker is working overtime to correct my "colour" to "color" and my "centre" to "center." Now, everything needs to be eaten with chocolate biscuits and a cup of tea. My normal Coke* and a donut just won't cut it. I am sinking fast, my blogging homeslices. Someone better stop me before I trade in all of my dollars for pounds. For reals.
*I'm not drinking Coke. I quit. Sort of. Okay, that's a lie. I've had a couple of Cokes since quitting. A few. No more than three. Okay, ten. But that's been over a month and a half. Ten in a month and a half! That's like a sip a day. Not even worth mentioning.
Post-Birthday Reflections
15 hours ago
5 comments:
I guess you are human tofu, soaking up the flavor of whatever you are around. It happened to me when I moved out from the northeast to the southern plains. Before I knew it, I sounded like Hank Hill, I tell you what.
But from a magazine? I never heard of that before, bless your heart.
When I lived down south, I picked up the accent so quickly, my mother thought she'd lost me forever. I couldn't help it. And after Mr. Crazy Pants left me down there for four months on my own? It got worse! My family could hardly understand me anymore. But I tell you what. I was skinny. I was very blonde. (Hot and sunny being the answer to fat and drab brown. You dont' eat when you're so hot you could puke and being outside at the pool is the only answer to the hair.) And when I moved back to the Midwest? Tall, tan, skinny, blonde, southern accent? I was very desirable. Very desirable. Then life happened and I'm now overweight, need lots of highlights and the pale of my skin is blinding. No more southern accent for me. It's quite sad. Actually.
My blog buddy Dzesika (over at Hamstersphere) spent some years over in Jolly Olde London and we've talked a bit about British-isms creeping into speech and spelling and vocabulary and syntax. Now that she's back Stateside for over a year the spellings are starting to abate! But I totally think my speech would change pretty quickly if I lived there for a while.
That's funny. I, too, am stoked by home flipping shows. I love them.
malaise - Oooh! I like the idea of being "human tofu." I think that will be the name of my band. You know. When I form a band.
kate - I start talkin' southern when I go to visit my cousins in Richmond. It's a mystery... But girl, I've got you BEAT on the blinding white skin. What's more, my skin is ALWAYS this (lack of) color. I don't tan. And also? I bet my butt is bigger than yours :-)
wunelle - There is this woman my mom knows that moved to New York from Ireland about 50 years ago. Her brogue is stronger today than it was 50 years ago. We think here everlastin' brogue is one of the Wonders of the World.
rudecactus - In the Blogger Compound, there will be only two channels: HGTV and the special blogger propaganda channel where I broadcast my special Canary brainwashing drivel :-)
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