I’ve been told on more than one occasion that I have an American accent. Huh.
Now I’m born and bred Canadian. So how, you may ask, does such a thing happen? Well I’ll tell ya. I grew up very close to buffalo and hence all the TV and radio absorbed during my formative years was American, and we watched A LOT of TV. I’m something of a mimic too. When my sister came back from camp or some such thing she had a slight accent from her Australian roommate. Within a day I had it too. I didn’t mean too, I’m just very impressionable. Anyhoo this American thing doesn’t seem to be fading at all. Maybe my years with the Niagara Parks perked it up a bit; I dealt with a lot of tourists. I had a few of them ask which side of the border I was from. Jeremy loves it. Why? I have no clue, but it never fails to make him laugh. I think that’s another reason my so-called accent has stuck. Subconsciously I’m playing it up because it amuses him. He’s just so cute when he’s amused. It’s all goody and hands clapped together. Adorable.
You should see his face when I say Mila Jovovivh.
Hey that’s the best I can do!
Some people don’t hear an American accent so I’ll let you judge for yourselves. Here I am saying “Bagel, town, pants, milk, pillow”. I figure those were the choice words. I’d especially like to know what my American blogfriends think. This is, after all, your area.