Bridget Jones...I mean Deutsch

I promised myself I wouldn't blog today. Seriously, I have a lot of homework to do, a presentation to finish for youth group, mass to attend, and a social afterward. I DO NOT HAVE TIME TO BLOG. So you're wondering what I'm doing aren't you? "Why are you blogging Bridget? Go do your homework!" I'll tell you why, I was innocently catching up on some reading (blog reading) while I consumed my breakfast and I suddenly came face to face with my cousin Kate's new blog entry. And now I have no choice. I have to do this.

It is absolutely insane how much my cousin Kate and I have in common. For those of you who are thinking, "Oh really, what do you guys have in common?" you obviously didn't click on the Kate link. Come on people work with me here! Go do that now. At least read the last two entries. I'll wait...
We good now? Ok.
I don't really know if it's just because we're both from Deutsch stock, or if it's a 21 and brunette thing, but darn it do we think alike. As I read Kate's entry this morning about the British inner monologue, my own inner monologue proclaimed Bloody Hell! Me too!
I'm sure you've all caught on by now just by seeing all the italicized type throughout my entries that I have an inner monologue that never stops. I mean literally, if you're talking to me chances are my inner monoluge is still going, no matter how much I try to quiet her. Although we're all aware that she's there, I've never really come out and talked directly about her. I most certainly have never mentioned that most of the time she has a British accent.

Time out...Is it weird I talk about my inner monologue like it's a seperate person in my head? I tried typing this entry with "it" in place of "her" but I wasn't feelin that, so "her" it is...time in.

Kate has a good excuse for her inner monologue going Euro on her seeing as she has traveled the world and she has fun British friends. I, on the other hand, have not really left the country (sorry Canada doesn't count) and the only accent I have been heavily exposed to is that of the Yooper, and goodness knows I don't want that.
Despite the odds, my inner monologue has some how gone British, and she has actually been that way for quite sometime. The sad truth about it all is that she's a byproduct of an innate desire to be Bridget Jones and a whole lot of Jane Austen reading, which has led to an unhealthy obsession with the 5 hour BBC Pride and Prejudice and any other film released dealing with any of Ms. Austen's novels.
Back to Bridget Jones for a moment.
Why on Earth would I want to be Bridget Jones? Well, I'm already more than half way there.
1) She can't ski...check
2) She can't ride...check
3) She can't speak Latin...check
4) She'll always be just a little bit fat...check
4) She's a horrid public speaker...check
5) She was often considered a spinster in the making...check (we prefer the term singleton)
6) She lacks style and grace...double check
7) She's an avid writer...check
8) She has a British accent...damn
9) She married Mark Darcy (Colin Firth)...YES PLEASE!
So you see really the only thing keeping me from marrying my own Mark Darcy is the lack of a British accent. And I believe this is the main reason as to why my own inner monologue has turned British on me. She's just trying to help me acheive my ultimate goal in life.
And then there's that whole Pride and Prejudice BBC issue. Um...have we seen this? It's amazing. And wouldn't you know Colin Firth is in that too, but this time as Mr. Darcy. Just a coincidence I'm sure. My obsession with Pride and Prejudice allowed me to branch out to many other BBC creations introducing me to television shows like The Office, and just about every mini series ever made. Fuel for the fire my friends. Fuel for the fire. I'm obsessed with any British film I can get my hands on. Love Actually, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Emma, Sense and Sensiblity, Notting Hill, hell even Nanny McPhee. You see this is a sickness. I want that accent, I need the accent. It's definitely in my head, but when put into practice out loud, it's absolute rubbish. I'm utterly ashamed of it. The Bridget Jones in my head does it perfectly, but I fear that when it passes through my actual lips, my stupid American tongue mangles it. So if you're ever wondering why I don't say much out loud, it's generally because I'm afraid one day Ms. Jones won't be content staying in my head, and I'll actually attempt a choppy, sorely off the mark, British accent aloud.
Clearly I'm unstable, and someone needs to fund a trip for me to go over to England so I can perfect my accent, and finally, like Kate, have a legitimate excuse for my British inner monologue.