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Friday, November 18, 2005 The Appearance of Winter, in Cockney The last entry, Cockney translation courtesy of The Dialectizer: A voicemail left from a mucker 'oo'd spent the bloomin' last week in Singgapore, right, a wee city-state on the equator, right, to an exported musician 'oo left at the bleedin' age of five: "Eh up, I'm hammer and tack in Chicago, right, just got off the chuffin' flight and am waitin' for me cab--and it's 25 degrees outside. Why on earff did yer leave?" In the musician's 'ouse, all eight roommates frozen, one on 'is laptop in the dinin' room 'uddled into 'is sweatshirt, two wotchin' TV and sittin' on couches near drafty windows, four asleep and buried in blankets. The bloody musician sat at 'er French Tutor in a long-sleeved shirt, two layers of fleece, and a blanket--and were still cold, right, her fingers icy as they typed the bloody blog. And winter descended on Ann Arbor wiv an exuberance unmotched by inhabitants already cursin' the climate, bemoanin' the chuffin' fact that they were livin' in a state where in two days the temperature could change from mild, autumnal breezes ter frigidity, to winds wiv almost the bleedin' force necessary ter push cars from the highway. Their displeasure grew from the certain knowledge that wiv the bleedin' exception of a few brief respites, it would only cop colder. A lone import from Santa Barbara claimed excitement at 'er first sight of snow; the husband and catalyst for 'er transplantation ter Brighton were out 'untin' so she went dancin' instead, welcomed by natives 'oo were baffled at 'er choice of bipolar wevver over sunny beaches. "Yer left California for Michigan, isit?It must 'ave been true luv indeed." Or you could read the entirety of Randomness in Redneck. Or Hacker. (Not quite 1337.) Or Elmer Fudd. Or Pig Latin. (Which, at a glance, looks suspiciously like Elvish--Tengwar.) ^ Top | 7:30 AM | | | 
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