Something You Probably Don't Know About Me

"You" in this context, although second person singular, refers to all of my readers. And I seriously doubt that any of my readers know this fact about me.

I love being told that I have a British accent.

I'm not British. I'm from Atlanta and--although I hate to admit it-- originally from Texas and Oklahoma. The Deep South. What then, any level-headed reader might ask, am I doing with a British accent?! Good question, level-headed reader.

Sorry to disappoint, but I don't really know. It could be that I have a subtle speech impediment. Not so much that I sound like a deep-throated Elmer Fudd, but rather that I sound...British, I suppose.

After three years of intense after-school speech therapy in third to fifth grade, I can proudly declare that I can pronounce all my r's correctly, from "rat" to "railroad." Now I sound...almost completely normal...arguably. It's just that I speak slower than most, and I sound slightly British. Or Australian. Or South African. You pick.

And let me tell you something else. My favorite accent in the world is the British accent. Every one. From pasty, high-class nobility to alcoholic cockney living on the streets and wearing fingerless gloves. I love them all.

Something about the British accent is as irresistible to me as mustaches are to overweight construction workers. When I hear the British accent anywhere at all, even a weak one, I get this longing inside me. It's almost like lust. That's it. I have an England fetish.

I like the British slang almost as much as I like the accent. From "barmy" to "bloody." From "blimey" to "brill." From "bum" to "bloomy." And those are just the b's. And shall we talk about the wealth of vocabulary the British have for describing someone who's crazy? What do Americans have? Let's see, "crazy," "mad," and "high."

It's like that Steve Martin quote, "Boy, those French. They have a different word for everything." Except this time I'm serious! Both Americans and the English speak the same language, but they speak it with such style!

If a British person was insulting me and everything about me, I wouldn't care. I'd tune in and hear him saying "Bloody Yankee! Arsehole! Idiot! I'll bite your arm off! I'll..." I'd just have this dreamy smile plastered to my face, like I was heavily sedated.

There's nothing particularly appealing to me about England besides the way its people speak. Dreary skies. Grumpy and snobbish people. Depressingly dark humor. But still, I've always wanted to visit London, just to hear the people all around me speak in a funny accent. I'd stop a guy on the street and ask, "Excuse me, sir, but do you have the time?" He'd reply, "It's 2:30." "What?" "I said it's 2:30." "One more time?" "It's 2:30!" "Okay, okay, thanks." I can't get enough of it.

So for future reference, I really like being told I have a British accent. It's like being told that somebody loves me.

"Has anyone ever told you that you sound British?"

And I always have to restrain myself from saying, "I love you too."

So for future reference, if you ever need to borrow money or something, just tell me I have a British accent first. You'll soften me up enough so that I'll give you my credit card.

By the way, guys, I'll be in the mountains for the next week. Not only do they not have internet or electricity there, but people hunt for their own food and are stuck in the 1700's. It's kind of like The Village. So I'll miss you all! Until next week: July 19, I believe?

Meanwhile, vote on my new poll. Keep up with your blogs. All that good stuff.

Thanks for reading.