Jimmies for Jimmy (but no Jimmers)
The girl behind the counter at Smiling Hill Dairy had to be all of 19 years old. "Do you want any jimmies on your ice cream?" she smiled as she asked me. "Um. Huh? What are .. did you say jimmies? Because that's kind of my name ..." "Yeah, you know, jimmies," her cheerfulness never wavering. She walked back a few steps and picked up a container, shaking it for me. I watched the colored, tiny crystals of conglomerated sugar as it dawned on me. Oh, she means "sprinkles." By many accounts, I am an idiot. This has been openly acknowledged and this is not the last time I will acknowledge this fact. However. Please stop confusing me with your regional dialects. Or at least smile, be cheerful and a 19-year-old female when I am confused by your strange words. Utah has Jimmer. Or Teh Jimmer , if you prefer. The South has JimBob. Please, always call me JimBob. Of course, we also have grinders here. Actually, I have yet to see a sign here in Maine for ...