There are lots of reasons I get mad at my parents. Neither of them married a supermodel, so now I have to buy my own drinks at bars; they insisted a TV doesn't belong in a child's bedroom, so now I'm a nerd; they forgot to tell me that boy haircuts are for boys...
But, after spending several days in London, I'm especially irritated that they didn't have the decency to raise me in a place where I'd pick up an accent. They made a half-hearted attempt when they hired a Welsch nanny, but completely dropped the ball by letting her get married.
The worst part is that I'm not even picky. I'd take English, Italian, French, Spanish...really anything except Russian.
So thanks Mom and Dad. For years of forgone athleticism, beauty, and--something you could have actually changed--a cool accent.
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