So You’ve Married a Brit

You would think that after five years together Rob and I would have come across all of the differences you can possibly think of.  Aluminum/Aluminium, Tidy/Clean,  Rubbish/Trash, Dick/Knob.  You get the gist.  But there are things. Things.  That sometimes lead to arguments.

Him: Give me your purse.

Me: hands over purse

Him: I just wanted your purse.

Me: I gave you my purse!

Him: glares

Me: Fuck you.


Purse/Wallet/Handbag/WTF?!  England: Purse = Wallet.  America: Purse = Handbag.

Then there are things. Where I am stupid.

Me: Get me cough medicine that has sleep aid but no tylanol.

Him: For a tickly cough or a chesty cough?

Me: There is no such thing here. That is a British thing.

Him: There is TOO.

Me: THERE IS NOT. It doesn’t matter.  Jess is in charge.  NO TYLANOL PLUS SLEEPY SHIT. Jess is in charge.

Him: Like Night Nurse?

Me: Jess is in charge.

20 minutes later…


Those would be Jess’ hands

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