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Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

11 February 2013

The one with the Regional Dialect



You mean you didn't??



So a few weeks ago I was informed that I speak with a "regional dialect" that identifies me as being From Somewhere Else.

You're not One Of Us...

I sound Too Californian.

Which apparently is Not A Good Thing.

How is being from California not a good thing??  

No Habla.


And I was told I need to Tone It Down.

(The reason being that in my new job as a Professional Ninja I need to be somewhat incognito.  I'm supposed to blend.  Which, it turns out, I don't.  Huh.)



I'm the one in the middle.


I have to admit, I was flummoxed.


And completely distracted by the term "Regional Dialect."


What does that mean???


When I think I'm using words am I actually speaking in the clicks and winks that are indigenous to My People?  Am I the only one who doesn't know I'm not speaking English??

If I'm not speaking English, what the hell am I speaking???


I took my query to the streets.  (IE:  My husband and his family, all native New Yorkers.)


Me:  "So it turns out I have a "regional dialect."  What the hell does that mean??  Were you aware of this nonsense?"


Dan:  *choking on his own obnoxious laughter*  "And you weren't?"


Me:  "Okay, I get that I don't sound like you... mainly, because I'm from California and we don't do the whole talking through the nose thing, but regional dialect?  What the frick does that even mean?"


Dan:  "I dare you to try to have a conversation without saying, "I'm, like..." or "And he's, like..."  or "And we're all, like..."


Me:


Dan:  "Go ahead... try."


Me:  


Okay, seriously... is that even, like, possible?  Because I'm pretty sure it isn't.


See?  It's in my DNA, yo.





Me:  "Dude, seriously... I spent 48 years of my life as a Californian.  I'm pretty sure it's called The Golden State because it's, like, the best state.  And how in the hell am I supposed to tone down something I'm not even aware I'm doing??"


I'm sorry... is this a problem?



Dan:  "I'll help you."


And so it began.


Me:  "Oh my God, I'm like..."

Dan:  *clicking remote control zapper on my electric shock collar*


Me:  "Dude!  For real!  Seriously!  They're all like..."

Dan:  *zap*


Me:  "What the hell everrrr..."

Dan:  *zap*


Okay, he didn't really have a zapper and I didn't really have a shock collar but as it turns out, nothing short of drastic measures is going to correct my speech.  Even when I think about it there are certain words and pronunciations that I just can't change.  (Without extensive speech therapy, at any rate.)


I found out the hard way that I don't think... I just talk.  (I'm not sure that counts as a "regional dialect", however... but apparently in New York, it's a Strictly California thing that makes me stick out like a sore thumb.  Who knew?)

This is not a good thing.

I vowed to never speak again.


I seriously had no idea that wasn't how everybody did it until I moved here.



Unfortunately, I forgot that I'd made myself that promise and The Stupidest Thing Ever Said By Anybody, Ever flew out of my mouth Saturday evening.

It went like this:


The whole Fam Damily loaded up to go see the Ice Castle in Saranac Lake, NY.  (Explain this to me, please... The town is called Saranac Lake, but the lake in the town is not Lake Saranac.  In fact, there IS no Lake Saranac.  The lake in Saranac Lake is actually Lake Flower.  And *I* sound like a dumbass??  Hello, New York?  This is kettle.  You're black.)

The ice castle was fabulous and the theme this year was Under The Sea.  There were ice carvings of dolphins, whales, sharks... King Neptune guarded the entrance and there was a real lobster frozen into a block of ice adorning the castle wall.

I have no idea why, but that damn lobster totally captivated me.  

I mean, it was a lobster frozen in a giant block of ice.


On the way home, the girls were asked what they liked best.


Niece 1:  "I liked the dolphin."

Niece 2:  "I liked the shark."

Aunt Dani:  "I liked the lobster.  Do you think it was in the ice when they pulled it out of the lake and they just left it there?"


*insert sound of dead silence*


*crickets*


Dan:  "Dani, there aren't any lobsters in the lake."

Me:  "Well, how do I know?  I don't know where you guys go lobster hunting here."

Dan:

Me:

Dan:

Me:  "Oh, wait..."


I'd be sooooo sparkly...



Anyway, after some deep thought I came to the conclusion that being told to "tone down" my "regional dialect" was my new supervisor's uber polite way of telling me to think before I speak.  

Now I'm wondering what incredibly stupid shit I said that inspired her to make that request...


Are you suggesting that I'm not??