Help, I'm turning British

I just noticed that in my last blog entry, I spelled the word "behavior" as "behaviour". The unnerving thing is, I didn't even think about it when I was writing it, and only noticed it after two re-reads. Three years of all-British news media followed by six months of all-British television seem to be taking their toll. At first it crept in via subtle ways, quite like the way I write, old chap, and then got more insidious and menacing the first time I found myself pronouncing "ma-SSAGE" as "MA-ssage" without even thinking. I've never been afraid of "turning French" simply because the barriers of language and culture are too thick - even if I become fluent in français, it will still be a different, secondary language to me and isn't likely to pop up in chats with American friends about NASCAR (or whatever we American blokes talk about). Britishisms, unfortunately, are sinking in their roots and growing thicker by the moment, and god help me the first time I take a "lift" instead of an elevator. I know sod all to do about it, though. We watch the few American shows that pop up on BBC when we can but it feels like filling in the New Orleans flood dikes - I'm afraid that eventually I'll transmogrify into this frumpy old British shite that scowls at cheerful American movies and thinks every TV show or motion picture should end bleakly, preferably with the main characters all divorced, alcoholic, or miserable if we can't be mucky enough to see them die gruesomely. As a pipe smoker in today's anti-tobacco world, I am already terminally naff and I'll be really snookered if I mutate into some quasi-British-French-US Southern life form... a concept so intrinsicly volatile that I'll probably just burst into flames at some point and that will be the end of it. If only I could absorb French so easily and effortlessly, that would be cracking.