We know the right way to talk, but in our family — in private, not out in public — we often choose not to do it. I can’t explain it, but we think purposefully mispronounced words are funny. I don’t think it’s just a Southern thing; Mark’s grandfather was from Ohio, and he liked to say, “eduma-cated” for educated. It’s not like saying “nuclear” instead of “nuclear,” which we would never do. Duh!
But when we look for paint, we could go to “Sherman Williams,” or the Home “de Pot.” Not to be confused with that high-end kitchen store, “William Somona.” If you’re into architecture, you’ll know that there are three basic types — Ionic, Doric, and Corinthian — of Greek “col-yums.”
We live in Arizona, and love driving about an hour over the mountains to “Sedonia.” If it’s winter, you might want to use a “tarpole-yon” to cover up your outdoor furniture.
Still, it was just a mite embarrassing last week when we were at a furniture store looking at leather chairs, and Mark saw some that were “bonded leather,” which basically is just ground-up cow fibers and vinyl. I said, “They’s vin-yel!” right as the sales guy showed up. I’m pretty sure he heard me, but I don’t think he knew what I was talking about.
Not sophisticated enough.
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