Yellah

I'm assuming all of the people reading this aren't from the same general location. Just an assumption. Perhaps you are from the North...South...East...West...

I am from the South. I live in the God forsaken North, but I will always be Southern. I've been away from home for about 12 years - so long. My accent has definitely decreased but there are a few words that I still pronounce in Southern fashion (or wrong, as some people put it). Also, if I'm mad or have been imbibing, my accent comes back. If I speak to someone from home for even a few minutes it comes back full force. It makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I find that a lot of the time I will pronounce words the way I think people want to hear them... Since some people (one person) in my life insists on correcting the way I speak sometimes. If you have an accent and live somewhere besides your hometown do people correct you? When they do, do you punch them in the throat? Just curious.

Here's a little list of words and how I pronounce them or the word I use instead of the original. I guess I could've done a video for it...but, meh.

• Aunt - Aint (I know that this makes no sense to anyone where I live now but that's just how I grew up saying it - Aint Pam)
• Oil - Ol
• Yellow - Yellah
• Window - Windah
• Pillow - Pillah...okay, anything with an "oh" sound at the end automatically turns into "ah"
• Tip/Dump - Tump, I combine those two words to make one word and it's adorable. (Be careful or you gonna tump it over.)
• Anything with 1 syllable can be made into 2 syllables, anything with 2 syllables can be made into 8 syllables. Simple math.
• Theatre - Cinema, because that's more fun to say.
• Route - Root
• Fire - Faaar, because reasons.
• Ruin - I used to pronounce this "Rern"...but now I just pronounce it how it looks.
• Going to/About to - Fixin to (this is one of the ones that people used to call me on ALL the time, so annoying)

There are more, but that at least shows you a little glimpse into my weird ways. Which aren't weird at all, just different than some.

Oh, one more. What do you call saran wrap? I call it "film". I didn't even realize anyone called it different until I moved here and momma sent my stepdad to the store for film and he came back with Kodak.

Where I'm from every "soda" is called "coke".

You wanna coke?

Yep.

What kind?

Sprite.

What Smells? Oh, You Have a Little Shit on Your Face There.

I'm from Louisiana. Have you been there? Did you eat the food? Do you have dreams about the food...do you fantasize about Louisiana food while eating other mediocre food? Do you feel sad and depressed when presented with a plate of food that does not include Crisco as one of its main ingredients? This is normal.

Momma and Jack are visiting Louisiana right now. While I'm here in the snow, and the cold, and the ice, and the misery. Every day she calls me and give me the run down on all the food that they have eaten that day while I drool and fall out of my chair. Earlier today I was on the phone with her and she was telling me all about what they had eaten and before I knew it was rolling around my desk like it was covered in Gumbo. I quickly contained myself and apologized to the person that was in my office at the time.

There is one thing that I would like to mention...though, it has nothing to do with "southern food", but with the difference in getting food here vs. there. There, when you go to a Mexican restaurant and order sopapillas, you get these fluffy pockets of heaven...then you dip them in honey. Promptly pass out, regain consciousness, eat and repeat. They are literally one of the best things ever created.

Here, when you order them, are you ready for this? They are thin...chewy, and covered in cinnamon, sugar, honey...and sometimes chocolate sauce. BLASPHEMY! The first time I ordered them up here and the waiter brought them I laughed...you know, because this shit must be a joke. Right? Right? RIGHT?!

All Momma and I do is brag on our food from home. How delicious it is. How scrumptious it is. How perfect and heavenly it is. If anyone argues with us we promptly punch them in the dick. A couple of nights ago Jack and Momma called to tell me about their day when I overhear Jack say that he has yet to have any good Mexican food (note: it's Louisiana, not Mexico, but I digress.) So, I say, OOOH, what about Zwolle Tamales?!!!?? (note: Zwolle (zah-wall-ee) Tamales are sold out of road side shacks and are fresh and served in a greasy paper bag. In one word: perfect.)

Momma: OHH, YES! We're going to pick some up on the way to Natchitoches! (nak-eh-tesh)

Jack: What? I'm not having any Zwolle Tamales.

Momma: Yes you are. They are perfect and are fresh and you will eat them out of the paper bag and you will love it! (please know that her voice is slightly escalating with each word)

Jack: Yuck. No I'm not. That is disgusting.

Momma: YOU WILL EAT THE ZWOLLE TAMALES! YOU WILL SHIT YOURSELF AND RUB IT ALL OVER YOUR FACE YOU'RE GOING TO LOVE THEM SO MUCH!

Jack: ...silence...

Me: Hold that thought...let me get a pen.