“I walk around talking to myself in accents. Usually people look at me like I’m a complete fruit loop.” –Eddie Redmayne

“I walk around talking to myself like a vampire. Usually I don’t leave the house.” –Jeff Brown

Dracula vs. the Scots

“I wish I could talk with a cool accent.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Jeff, you do a pretty good Count Dracula.”

My wife and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. Vickie grinned and said, “Go ahead, I know you’re dying to say it.”

“Say what?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“Come on, say it.”
She was right. I was dying to say it. I was dying to say, “Good evening. I’ve come to drink your blood.” Believe it or not, I can say those two sentences with a pretty convincing Transylvanian accent, but that’s about it. My name is Jeff Brown, not Jeff Dunham.

“No,” I replied with my best wily grin, “I’m too embarrassed.”

“Yeah, right.” She scoffed.

“To get a really good accent, I need to immerse myself in one. You know, maybe get some tapes to listen to when I’m driving.”

“Do they make a Rosetta Stone for Vampires?”

“I don’t know, but if there is one, you should put it on my Christmas list.”

Interesting Fact: In today’s globally integrated and multicultural business environment, the ability to speak like a vampire is becoming a key factor in individual and organizational success.

Speaking of accents, I’m from Iowa, so I don’t really think I have one. My wife is from Indiana. Our cultural differences occasionally rear their ugly heads when she pronounces with prominence a syllable within a word or phrase to a degree that I don’t understand what the heck she’s talking about. For instance, I call the meal at the end of the day “supper.” She insists it’s pronounced “dinner.”

“That’s impossible,” I say, “because dinner is what I eat in the middle of the day.”

“Ridiculous,” she counters, “because where I’m from, that’s called lunch.”

“Lunch and dinner are the same thing,” I insist. “Supper happens in the evening.”

“I don’t eat this thing you call “supper”, Jeff.”

“Well, I don’t eat dinner at night.”

“Then I’m afraid you’re going to bed hungry, Dear.”

If I want to improve my popularity with the wife, I should let her have her lunch and eat it too. Yes, I should let go of my use of the word “supper” and practice my Scottish accent instead. She’s mentioned Scottish accents are “hot.” In particular, she likes Gerard Butler’s accent, although I’m not sure she’d feel the same if he spoke with a Swedish accent.

On second thought…never mind.

This whole situation is made even more disturbing by her recent revelation that she likes a man in a kilt.

Another Interesting Fact: I’m thinking about scrapping Jeff of all Trades for The Kilted Columnist.

Where was I? Oh, yes, I was straining to keep an accent-related theme going for another 30 words or so.

Since it’s unlikely you’ll see me hanging out in the kilt aisle at JC Penney anytime soon, the least I could do is watch some Gerard Butler movies, you know, to brush up on his speech mannerisms. I suppose there are worst things to do than staying up late watching 300. Who knows? Maybe by morning I’ll have a new line I can impress my wife with.

Spartans! Ready your breakfast and eat hearty…For tonight, we dine in hell!
On second thought, maybe I’ll stick with …

Good evening. I’ve come to drink your blood.