I’ve Just Got a Touch of Redneck Accent Syndrome and Pareidolia. No Worries.
Well, it’s been awhile since I’ve regaled you with one of my self-diagnoses. My most recent one is so depressing, I hesitate to share it with you. But then I thought I should probably warn you about it because you might have it, too.
Most of my self-diagnoses are the result of in-depth internet research. But this one actually came about during an impromptu dinner date with my husband. Technically, it’s the waiter’s fault.
“Do you think he’s from Australia?” Cap’n Firepants asked me after the waiter left with our drink order.
“I’m not sure. It kind of sounds like it, but it’s not quite there,” I said. I am the authority in the family on accents because I am the only person who has traveled to three other countries – four if you include the time I watched fireworks in international waters between the U.S. and Canada. Of course, none of those countries has been Australia, but I did watch Crocodile Dundee and its abysmal sequel.
Throughout the meal, we kept whispering about the waiter’s accent. Finally, after he said, “Have a good evening, mates,” and after I had polished off a top-shelf margarita which made me feel completely unabashed about inquiring into our waiter’s private life, I said, “Are you from Australia?”
To which he replied, “No.” I grinned at the Cap’n. I’m always right.
“But I do have an Australian accent,” the waiter admitted.
He went on to explain that he is from Texas. And has no relatives from Australia. However, a few years ago, he was in a horrible car accident. And when he woke up, and finally started speaking again, he suddenly had this accent. And he’s had it ever since.
“It’s called Foreign Accent Syndrome,” he informed us.
“That. Is. So. Cool!” I exclaimed. Minus the injuries and hospital stay, of course.
Now, it’s quite possible, indeed almost certain, that our waiter was feeding us a pile of bull honkey. But it got me thinking about one of my own neurological problems.
Periodically, my Inner Voice speaks Jeff Foxworthy. It’s well-documented. I’ve been wondering about the cause of this, and now I know.
At some point, Jeff Foxworthy obviously clunked me hard on the head.
What’s depressing is that I didn’t get an Australian accent. And what’s even more depressing is that when I looked up Foreign Accent Syndrome on Wikipedia, it said this, “Thus, the perception of a foreign accent is likely a case of pareidolia on the part of the listener.”
Basically implying that the person who is listening (me) to the speaker (me) is off her rocker.
I guess that isn’t all that surprising.
Posted on July 7, 2013, in Depression, Disorder of the Day, Humor and tagged food service, foreign accent, humor, Mental Health, syndrome. Bookmark the permalink. 19 Comments.
So funny! I love this, I had a British accent for quite a while( I lived in England) and just to mess with people when they asked if I was British I’d say no, I’m American but not explain, just to see their reactions, but to just wake up one day with a foreign accent from somewhere I hadn’t been would be amazing! Bad because of the accident, but cool for the accent.
I lived in Ireland for 6 weeks, and came back with an Irish accent. My Irish step-father thought I was parodying him and told me to cut it out. It’s harder than people think to get rid of an accent!
It took me over a year to get rid of mine, even now when I’m yelling it comes back…lol go figure how that works!
That is cool and weird, and makes me think about how we know whether yellow to us isn’t blue to someone else but they think it’s yellow. We’re all just crazy.
Just as long as I’m not the only one…
As diseases go, i guess having an accent (Australian or Redneck) is low on the totem pole, I guess. Take 2 aspirin and call me in the morning.
You’re right. I guess it doesn’t matter how the voice in my head sounds; I should probably be more concerned about what it’s saying rather than how it’s saying it.
I have wanted hubby to get this disease (minus the trauma – or plus the trauma if that’s what it takes). how sexy would that be??? hubby comes home from the hospital and all of sudden he’s talking like hugh grant??? oh, and is there a disease where he can look like hugh, too?
Just as long as he doesn’t start to behave like Hugh…
I’d blame it on the margarita.
(Best part is, they don’t mind being scapegoats!)
Maybe I need to drink more margaritas so I can use them as scapegoats more often.
Don’t fall off that rocker. You may end up speaking Pig Latin.
That would, most likely, be my fate!
Stella went through a stage of a British accent. No reason, mind you, just wanted to be from England for a couple of years. Then it was over.
I used to delight in bringing out a British accent whenever I read Harry Potter to Dimples. There is something oddly comforting about speaking with a British accent – at least to non-British people like me.
I watched a 20/20 on that. Not the redneck one though. But it also made me think of when I had Kelly Ripa on in the background the other day and she said when she goes to Paris she speaks English with a French accent.
I would totally do that, too!
The gods are telling you to come and visit…
I think so, too!