Sunday, January 18, 2009


I have a weak linguistic immune system. For example, on my mission there was this cool elder who stuttered a little bit. The cadence of his speech fascinated me and struck me as oddly beautiful. Then a few weeks later a shy woman told me, “Oh, you stutter like me too?” I had always been an awkward kid, but was never told that I had a stuttering problem.


Do you recognize any of these as actual words?



Then there’s the Rhymey-wymey agglutination:




Guacky-Wocky-Mole (our favorite food)

Hungy-gunk, Snack-a-roni, delish!, t-die-4! freakincute,warmsies, din-din, etc.

I don’t either, but still I say them almost every day. These all come from the American English dialect of Hilarese, what linguistic pathologists might call a “contagious language.” Is what the funny thing is, is that Hilary seems to have some control of her language, only talky-walking to me on that silly willy way, but once I pick it up I can’t put it down. And it’s a tar baby—the more I analyze and criticize this methoderewski of talking, the more it sticks.


One of these days I’m gonna go to a pizza place and say, “What do you recommend? Is it t-die-4? Okie-dokie. Can I get a large with pepperonicitos and some delish cheesy wheezy?” Or, if I ever pass law school, I’ll be in open court against Perry Mason on a capital case and say, “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury-rino, is what you must know is that the defendant must be found guilty of the crimey-poo beyond a reasonable doubtsy-woutsy.” That’s a malpractice suitsy-wuitsy waiting to happen.

I've always said I wanna be just like Hilary. If talkin like a weirdo is the price I have to pay to pick up on her other qualities, I'm willing to pay that pricerino.