Reasons that I am American

The first man from my village who moved to the States called home about a week later with a ridiculous fake Yank accent. This was at least 40 years ago, but is still the talk of the town. When I was moving over here at least 10 bajillion people (yes, that's right, more than the population of the planet) said, 'Jaysus, ye won't be like auld Jimmy McCreefe will yeh?' or 'Give it a week and "sidewalk" and "garbage" will be coming out of yer arse' - the thoughts of that nearly made me stay home - or simply 'If yeh start spouting that Yank shite we'll feckin' disown yeh.'

Like a lot of new New Yorkers I ended up living in a nabe heavily populated by transplants from the old country - so much so that I was viewed with suspicion and mistrust because of my British accent, and was constantly having to whip out my passport to prove my blood ran emerald green. My accent over time became more Irish, partially due to the constant exposure, mostly because as a bartender it's good for business. (Apart from the six months I worked in Williamsburg where I totally played up my cockney, they lurve the Brits.) But now I live in an American nabe with a roommate from the MidWest and a 99% American clientele. 8 of the last 10 people I texted were American.

Six years in, I was just talking to my little brother and he told me he was birded off. Huh? He then told me I didn't understand because I'm a total Yank now. He is correct, and this is why.
- I invite friends to the 'bar for a beer' not the 'pub for a pint'.
- I no longer think a man with a wineglass in his hand is automatically gay.
- I haven't been in an area of green larger than Central Park in donkeys years.
- If a bar tried to charge me extra for Coke to go in my Jack I would break shit up.
- I threaten to break shit up.
- I use MySpace 14 times as much as I use Bebo.
- I go on 'dates'. Irish people do NOT do this.
- Apartment, deli, garbage, cellphone, store, cocktail, soda, cop, retarded... all part of my daily vocab, all words that will get me laughed out of Ballyoblarney.
- I think $200 is an acceptable amount to spend on shoes, purses or a night on the beer.
- I just said purse instead of handbag, and on the beer instead of on the lash.
- I no longer giggle at the use of 'pants' for non-knickers items of clothing. I will always find the American use of 'fanny' hilarious though.
- I don't know what's happening in Eastenders or Home and Away.
- I know that Victoria's Secret kind of sucks, actually. At home we imagine it to be a magical wonderland of knicker-related fabulosity.
- I haven't said 'knickers' in so long that now I can't seem to stop.
- I have never spent a Euro.
- I say ass more than arse, even though arse is clearly better.
- I haven't used the word 'cunt' as a term of endearment in a long time - really, it's acceptable at home as long as preceded and followed by 'ya' - "C'mere, yacuntya!'
- I no longer think it's gay if a guy has candles in his home. Well, not TOTALLY gay.
- I watch way more baseball than soccer. And I say soccer instead of football.
- I have no food in my refrigerator and don't think it's ridiculously extravagant/slatternly/showoffy to eat out for every meal.
- Square hamburgers no longer freak me out.

So that's it. I am a Yank. Knickers knickers knickers.

I am so totally a Yank

Went to two slightly wierd and uncomfortable parties yesterday. The second was a wedding party for two regulars I don't know very well, civilised, not too exciting. The first though may well have been the crowning achievement of my six years in the US - my first where I was the only Irish person there, MY FIRST KEG! WOO!, and my first beer pong! So American I can hardly stand it y'all.


I was even hit on by some overgrown frat dude (pastel polo - from Burberry no less - popped collar and all) in the following manner.
'You're Irish? Cool, me too, my last name's O'Neill.'
'You think I'm goodlooking? I'm huge too. Huge.'
'I'm on track to make a million this year.'
I'm not kidding, these were the first three sentences this asshat spoke to me. Still at least he was speaking to me - I only knew the three guys who threw it. There were about 30 frat boys and rookie cops, and about six girlfriends. And me, apparently the only single girl there. There was only so much babysitting the hosts could do, and the girls were fine but not too friendly. The guys were mostly taken up with the beer pong league, it was early i.e. male bonding time. I left before it got late i.e. bro, are there any chicks at this thing or what time. I meant to come back after showing face at the second. Come on, I was the only girl and rookie cops - yum! Not to date maybe but there were some fine looking boys at that barbecue... However didn't eat all day as I am a moron and the margaritas I was drinking knocked me on my ass.


About frat dude - that money thing drives me nuts. I can pay my own way thank you, it is the biggest turn off when some twat tries to impress with his salary. My friend is a social worker, he's cute, funny and blah blah blah, and when women hit on him in the bar he says 90% of the time their eyes glaze over and they're on to the next victim when they realise he'll never make more than 50 thou. O'Neill there, when his words didn't make me drop my knickers immediately, asked me why Irish girls don't like American guys. We do, sweetie, we just don't like scumbags in general and YOU in particular. (Guess where he lives? UES, what a shocker.) Rather awesomely, his friend wandered over at this point and told him 'She's Irish? You're shit out of luck, dude, they don't care about money, they're all about the personality'. Hee, even his friends know he won't get laid on charm alone.