Kiss my Dangling Participle

I don’t think I know what a dangling participle is, but I naturally tend to understand grammar. When I write, I usually use proper grammar and punctuation. In fact it feels strange to me to try and write the way I actually speak. When I speak, I tend to say things like "I reckon it’s over there, I seen it over there yesterday." That’s how I was raised, that’s how my family speaks. I'm also inordinately fond of the word "fuck."

Actually, when I’m speaking to someone I’d like to impress, I speak like I write. And as I get older, I hear myself speaking this way more often. I guess that’s a good thing. But I do sort of miss the ignorant country sound of myself. It mostly comes out at holidays when I’m visiting relatives. The Country Me doesn’t wash clothes, I "warsh" ’em. In a "warshin’ machine." That one "over yonder." Sometimes I hear phrases come out of my mouth like "It don’t matter." or "It weren’t no big deal," and I have to replay it in my mind to make sure I actually said it that way. Like an 8th grade drop-out who failed English since the second grade.

The real fun comes when I’m influenced by my kid, who speaks in an odd urban slang picked up from the hip-hop music he listens to. Then, combined with the Country Me, it comes out sorta like "Yo, I ain’t kiddin’ neither, that’s the dealio--fuh shizzle! Y’hear?"

Language is fun, y’all.