Let It Be Go
Hola. Can't blog. Am in Ecuador.
Oh, wait. That's not me.
Actually, I'm buried in work and, now also, upon remembering that I'm not in Ecuador, buried in woe. Thanks for reminding me; you're a real friend. Ah, but it's okay, since I'm earning a handsome reward (mortgage money!) and busying myself so I don't have to partake in the Festival of Gratuitous Violence and Velour Jumpsuits that is Simon and Teddy watching The Sopranos all the way from the pilot episode. (No, they're not wearing jumpsuits, but how awesome would that be if they were? Shall we take a vote?) On the one hand, I really wish I could watch it because I hear the series finale was quite the delicious mindfuck, but on the other hand, I can't stand New Jersey accents. (Say it ain't so, Clink.)
There are a bunch of other reasons why I can't (yes, "can't") sit through it, but if I had to pick one thing that's stopping me (and I do have to pick just one because, trust me, you've never seen a list so long), it all comes down to the accent. I'm sensitive to speech quirks in general, and although I try not to be judgemental about them, there are some things up with which I can not put, and "ahrange," "Flahrida," and "cwaffee" are among them. Maybe that's why internet relationships are so near and dear to my heart; in my head, you all have perfect middle-American, unaffected speech patterns that don't make me want to grab you by the jaw so I can help you e-nun-ci-ate.
But it goes both ways. The reason we--you 'n' me--have such a steller internet relationship is because you can't hear me either, especially when I get a song fragment stuck in my head and feel like spreading the love to anyone within belting distance. Today it's "HeatherB" sung to the tune of "Let It Be," which I sometimes forget is the actual title of the song that Sesame Street turned into "Letter B."
And in my hour of darkness,
she is standing right in front of me
drinking a mojito...
HeatherB.
Get out your lighters, people.
Yes, the fact that my internet friends can't hear me sing or see my nonexistent tap dancing skills is the reason, I, indeed, have so many internet friends!!! Have a good one . . .
My accent is perfection, which I am sure you are happy about. The song? Brilliant, it will surely be in my head all weekend.
Hi Leah! Ooooo I'm glad I'm not the only one with accent issues. I actually took a class recently about language and culture and how we privilege certain ways of speaking....it kinda made me feel like a judgmental prat, but I quite simply cannot help it....
Sounds like things are going very well!! Love your writing, as usual....
Classic. I'm sure Heather will be proud :)
If you happen to walk in the room during season two or three (possibly four) and Adriana is talking to someone and she mentions "Bobby Canzoneri" you can think of me and my husband and his family's possible ties to the mob. (That's our last name.) And since my attention to detail is awesome, I'm sure you'll be able to catch that Sopranos moment with little trouble ;)
My mom grew up on an island off the coast of Virginia where the locals sound like redneck thrown in a blender with Elizabethan English. Then we moved to Texas, one of the Southern Outposts of Obnoxious Accents. You probably couldn't live here for lots of reasons, but I bet the accent (which varies quite a bit depending on where one is in Texas) would KILL you.
Promise to sing it to me tomorrow? You can even have Simon do a little accompaniment.
Also, in the event that after I see your house, I fall in love with it, can I stay forever? Let me know your thoughts on that.
I'm funny about speech quirks, as well. And the one that bothers me the most (this week) is Ginny O'Meara reporting for NPR from SacraMINto. Her name is Jenny. Most of her flippin' e's become i's and I can't stand it.
As I have been saying since I left New Jersey for Pennsylvania to go to college and was surprised to realize that New Jersey has all sorts of nicknames (such as "the armpit of America") liberally in use by inhabitants of the 49 other states and is, in general, considered both a cultural and physical wasteland and, oh yeah, you guys talk funny too:
We. Do not. Have. Accents. (The wasteland stuff is partly true; I've been to Newark.)
Also, Tony Soprano's "house" is in my hometown. Tell Simon I'd totally be down for breaking a window and seeing if they left anything (tracksuits!) inside after the show wrapped, should you guys ever find yourselves out east.
And for any of you really interested in why we speak the way we do, try and get hold of "The Story of English." It's an old PBS series and is easily the most fascinating and comprehensive series ever created about our language.
I, for one, would love to know why people on the east coast (or at least in the NYC area) get ON line instead of IN line. 10 years here, and I still can't figure it out: we, as the people forming the queue are IN a line, therefore I get IN line when I want to order a bagel/pay for groceries/buy movie tickets. Unless there is a line on the gound, we are not ON line. 10 years, and it grates on me EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.
They say "on line" in England too, don't they? Maybe New Yorkers have taken it on as one of those annoying affectations "cultured" persons so love to adopt?
Nope, we don't use "on line", in Britain. But we don't really say "in line" either, unless we're trying to sound American. We're more likely to say "queue up" or "get in the queue".
Even *I* have an American accent in your head? Wow, I'd LOVE to hear that! xox
Even *I* have an American accent in your head? Wow, I'd LOVE to hear that! xox