BronxWench

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Just sit him on the porch with a glass of sweet tea and let him chat to the neighbors...

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He just always has to be different, doesn't he?

Well, real estate's more expensive up here in carpetbagger country. Tell magus that his bracers are ducky with me. And we call those tool belts up here, not fanny packs.

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My uncle was a true character, the gods love him. My sister actually lives in Hertfordshire, so I consider myself bilingual in both English and American, and you're right. There are so many things that don't translate, like a friend of mine offering to knock someone up, which is NOT taken the same way here at all. I live in a flat,and also have a semi-detached lake bungalow for summer. Both are roughly 93 square meters, which is family-sized, really. My neighborhood is largely detached houses and terraced houses. And I tend to say some sore of farewell at the end of phone conversations, particularly for business. Otherwise I wouldn't get much business, would I? Fanny packs should actually not even exist, being something best left to those tourists who wear white socks with their sandals, and want to know why they can't get McDonald's everywhere. But pants are trousers, and often come complete with suspenders, which is what we call bracers. And it just gets worse from there...

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Actually, the song's not a common Christmas song here, but if you look at the first appearance of the NYPD Emerald Society band in the official video of the tune, the fellow playing the large drum with the band logo is my Uncle Tommy.

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Seriously...

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Science can't explain the magical yumminess that is an elf. Trust me on this one.

Seriously! ::snatches Grwn back and pets him:: No dissecting the elves!

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I'll share Grwn with you, Lizzie.

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