The One Where Dan Tries To Teach Me To Talk Good

I know I post regularly about all the different ways that Dan drives me nuts so, just to be fair, this blog will be about how I drive HIM nuts.  

This one's for you, Big Guy.

Dan, being all chill and cool and giving the limo driver a thumbs up because he IS that kind of awesome.

For the past 10 years, Dan and I have had the kind of East Side-West Side cultural debate that can only be fixed by dancing knife fights and a gun shot.  When we first got together I had NO idea that New York was a whole different country than California.  I made allowances for his bad New Yorkish behavior and he complained endlessly about my California chillaxin' and "made-up words" (according to him, 'hella' and 'hecka' are not words).  I was too relaxed, he was too tense.  I was too friendly, he's a douche.  I talk too much, he says as few words as possible and if it can all be rolled into a head nod, he's all for that, too.  

But our biggest problem was the Language Barrier.

To wrap it all together and put it into a nice, neat bundle:  I don't talk right.

According to Dan.

While I mock his nasal accent ruthlessly, he tries to correct MY grammar and pronunciations.  I laugh and point and mimic, his eyes bug out, veins bulge in his forehead, and he honestly goes apeshit crazy when I say certain things.

Last night, as we were on our way to pick up my blood pressure prescription (which apparently should have been for him) he went a little nuts.

And this happened.

Driving down the main street of Potsdam, I casually asked this question, as we were passing all the restaurants lining the road:

Me:  "So, would you rather eat at the Asian Buffet or the Ponderosa?"  (Dan is all about the Almighty Buffet.)

Dan:  "It's not THE Ponderosa, Dani.  It's just Ponderosa.  And Asian Buffet is the name of the restaurant, not THE Asian Buffet."

Me:  "No, it's THE Ponderosa, like the ranch in Bonanza.  They didn't just ride into Ponderosa, they rode into the Ponderosa.  And I'm sorry, but saying 'I'm going to Asian Buffet' makes it sound like English is your second, or possibly even your third, language."

Dan:  "Why do Californians put the word 'the' in front of everything?  Jesus!  You don't just take 101 to 5, you take THE 101 to THE 5."

Me:  "Actually, we took the 101 to the 20 to the 5.  But whatever.  Right now we're on the 56 heading to the 11."

Dan:  "No, Dani, we're not.  We are on Route 56 heading to Route 11."

Me:  "Right.  The 56 to the 11."

Dan:  "That sounds dumb."

Me:  "No, YOU sound dumb."

Dan:  "You know how people always ask you where you're from, even without knowing that you just moved here?  This is why.  You don't talk right."

Me:  *being all adult and shit*  "No, YOU don't talk right."

We drove in silence for a while, both of us ridiculously pissed off at the other for having the gall to sound like a moron.

Dan:  *unable to let it go*  "This is you:  'Ohhhh myyyy Goddddd, riiiiight?  Liiiike, seriouslyyyy... avocados?  Are like, super expensiiiiive?  Wowwwww.... '"

Me:  *bringing my gun to a knife fight*  "Sooo... would you rather I sounded like this?  *plugging my nose*  "It's friggin' HAWT out der, doe it looks like duh FAG is about to roll in..."

Dan:  "I'm rillyyyyy coldddddd... it's like, a billion degrees below zeroooo..."

Me:  "It's frickin' COLD in here, but I'm Danook of the Fucking NORTH so I'm gonna open all the windows and put on a pair of shorts because 30 degrees is BRACING."

Dan:  "What the hell was that?"

Me:  "I was doing you."

Dan:  "No, you were doing YOU doing me."

Me:

Dan:

Me:  "Anyway..."

Dan:  "So...."

Me:  "Want to watch a movie when we get home?"

Dan:  "Sure.  I'll let you pick it out."

So yeah... this time it all worked out and no one had to die.  Until next time...

When you're a Jet you're a Jet all the way
From your first cigarette
To your last dying day...