This is a tricky one. Forty-four years of utter immersion and infrequent travel have put me in a place where I don’t realize something is a regionalism until a non-New Englander points it out to me.
I was familiar enough with the limited geographic reach of terms like “bubbler” (water fountain) or “elastic” (rubber band) or “tonic” (carbonated soft drinks), as they inevitably come up whenever someone starts gabbing about the local dialect.
The use of “bullshit” to describe being extremely angry, though? (“His bullshit drove me bullshit.”) Didn’t realize it wasn’t universal until a few short years ago.
Ditto for “dungarees” (jeans), “the balls” (denoted something amazing, as in “that dinner was the balls”), “bureau” (dresser), or “having a field day” (to run wild with an opportunity) — all of which see frequent enough use in my daily speech.
“The cat had a field day napping on my dungarees next to the bureau. She thought they were the balls. I was so bullshit.”
Throw in a thick non-rhotic accent and it’s a miracle anyone understands what I’m saying at all — and that’s not even taking into account the many old folks-isms (“the berries,” “snazzy,” “creeping Moses”) I’ve picked up from being being partly raised by my maternal grandmother and the Irish-isms I’ve picked up from Maura’s immigrant (West Cork and Sligo) parents.
I rarely if ever use “pissah,” though I will drop a “wikkid” or two on occasion.