I've always known I have the distinct propensity to incorrectly pronounce a word. I've accepted it. Afterall, I have immigrant parents who commonly use the words like sangwich...frash light...banning suit. I can remember the first time I visited Palm Springs with my dad like it was yesterday. It was blazing hot, so he and I walked into a sundries store and he wanted a sparkling water. May I have a Perr-Ree-Err, please? Bewildered, the girl behind the counter had no idea what he was talking about. He asked for it again, but raised his voice as if she was hearing impaired, causing everyone in the store to look our way. She still wore a big question mark over her head. When he pointed to a small green bottle, I jumped in and saved my ego from further embarrassment. Perrier...my dad wants a PAIR-E-AYE. We walked out of the store and my father laughed until tears rolled down his face. Through his cackling, he turned to me and said, It has an R at the end!?!
A couple months ago, I chatted with a girl who simply couldn't bear with my lazy tongue. I referred to a mustache as Mus-Tash, and she blinked a few times in discomfort. She went on with her story, but when she got to the part when she used the word mustache, she stared intently at me and said Moo-Stahhhsh. Just like that. With raised eyebrows and everything. I stopped her mid-story and told her my lineage would be darn proud of my pronunciation because I have the distinct propensity to look at the word mustache and pronounce it MUST-ACHE