You might be a redneck
I've been having a fun time noting all the differences in language between the people whose blogs I read. Kim has her hydro (I'll confess to thinking it was some kind of whirlpool tub) and Shelley's looking for a thumb drive (no clue there but a zip drive comes to mind). There's the whole cart and buggy thing from a while back and I've seen Kim write about her kids wearing toukes - not sure if I spelled that right and I'm too lazy to check.
I'm sure I'd throw plenty of people off if I used the word "poke" instead of brown paper bag, or mentioned picking a peck. Peter Piper must have been from the south.
I've experienced the same with my husband. Doug is from New Jersey (and Iowa, and DC and Mass...the list goes on) and our first winter together he used to scold me for making Leirin wear a toboggan to keep her head warm. "A toboggan" he'd say "is what you go sledding on, you wear a touke to keep your head warm."
Ok Mr. Man...maybe where you are from, but here it's not toboggan (ta boggan), it's toboggan (toe-boggin) and in South Carolina IF we get snow we go sledding, should the opportunity ever present itself, on garbage bags or trash can lids. A laundry basket will do if we ever get any real amount of snow. You don't buy sleds (not toboggans) here at the corner store because we don't get snow so we have no need for a toboggan except to keep our heads warm.
There is apparently a big difference in what comes on a hot dog also. Want comedy? Put a yankee cook in a small southern town and order a hotdog all the way. You'll get back a wienie in a bun covered with all kinds of stuff, and no chili. "Umm, Doug..." I remember saying as I held a dog once trying not to wrinkle my nose, "What's this?" So there began the great hot dog debate. Here, a hot dog is wienie, chili, and mustard. A hot dog plain is wienie and bun only (and it's wienie here...never wiener). A hot dog all the way is mustard, chili and onions. And a chili dog is chili on a bun, no wienie. That's it...no relish, no salsa, no onions or peppers...nadda. After 10 years he has managed to develop a strong following of people who love a garbage dog (everything on it but the kitchen sink) and he has given in to what a hot dog all the way really is - though he still grumbles about it on occasion. It's all worked out fine and now if I ever eat a hot dog I'm just as likely to order it with with relish and bacon and other unusual yummies as with chili.
Leirin has a friend from school that is from Ireland. That got interesting at the restaurant when we went to dinner. Fries are chips and chips are crisps and cookies are biscuits and biscuits are scones. I don't think we have scones here. Interesting.
We did finally get her order placed and she got what she wanted and we all recovered from the confusion.
My husband, after all these years, is now a bona-fide southerner. There is no trace of yankee left except that he still calls our front porch a stoop. It doesn't matter that it is only a few feet square of concrete with two steps and no cover - if it's flat and attached to the house it's a porch, unless of course it's brick or tile sunk into sand and wider than a walkway, then it's a patio, but you won't find too many of those around here. We have carports instead of garages, though the influx of northerners coming here to retire is changing that and we have as many homes with garages as carports. At our house we have neither carport nor garage...just a driveway with a couple of overgrown holly trees draping over it. Doug tells me that up north a garage is very important. Since we don't have snow here, we tend to leave our cars parked out in the open and hope for rain. That's a redneck carwash.
