"Miranda says you have a funny accent."
My friend since fifth grade, Trish, was relaying the message that was just whispered in her ear by her 12-year-old daughter.
"You do!" Miranda added. "You sound funny!"
Trish and Miranda were in Sioux City this past weekend for the NAIA Volleyball tournament, and since I hadn't seen Trish in over a year, we met for lunch.
While I made sure to point out to Miranda that she had herself a little Kansas/Missouri accent of her own, I had to admit that she was right.
My dad has been giving me crap about my Minn-uh-soooh-tuh accent for years. I don't notice it, and it pains me to think I sound like they do, but alas, I've lived her for 12 years now...sigh...I caught the funny accent.
At least a few times a year, I'll catch myself talking on the phone with my dad, and the accent sneaks out. I'll quickly finish my statement with a good "Yeah, and it's aboot time to go skay-tin' dare soon."
I'm sure if I lived in Texas, I'd start saying "y'all" and call every pop a "Coke."
But show me where a movie was made making fun of the Texas accent.
Nothing like what "Fargo" did for Minnesota. (If you ever want to piss off a native Minnesotan, tell them they sound like the characters in "Fargo"). "Oh, geez, Marge, we don't sound like that!"
But yes, I don't say "snow," I say "Snoowwwh."
I don't say "lake," I say "Layyyyke."
And don't get me started on the Tundra pronunciation of "bagel."
But my new accent comes in handy when my Hawkeyes play the Gophers. I'm able to appropriately mock the world's longest spelling bee cheer, which would be the end to the Minnesota Rouser.
But until I'm paroled from The Tundra (7 years, 7 months and 16 days, approximately, unless I'm released early for good behavior), I'll just keep speaking my Canada Lite accent!
In the meantime, let me know if you wanna play some duck, duck, gray duck, or if you need me to borrow you something! Yeah, sure, youbetcha! Uff da!