– You write to your mother in Germany every week, even though she sends you mail from Iowa asking why you never write.
– You’re always having to apologize to your next door neighbor for setting fire to his lawn decorations.
– Nobody listens to you anymore, because they can’t understand you through that scuba mask.
– You begin to stop and consider all of the blades of grass you’ve stepped on as a child, and worry that their ancestors are going to one day seek revenge.
– You have meaningful conversations with your toaster.
– You collect dead windowsill flies.
– Every time the phone rings, you shout, “Hey! An angel just got its wings!”
– You like cats. Especially with mayo.
– You cry at the end of every episode of Gilligan’s Island, because they weren’t rescued.
– You put tennis balls in the microwave to see if they’ll hatch.
– Whenever you listen to the radio, the music sounds backwards.
– You have a predominant fear of fabric softener.
– You wake up each morning and find yourself sitting on your head in the middle of your front lawn.
– Your dentist asks you why each individual tooth has your name etched on it, and you tell him it’s for security reasons.
– Melba toast sexually excites you.
– When the waiter asks for your order, you ask to go into another room to tell him, because “the napkins have ears.”
– You tend to agree with everything your mother’s dead uncle tells you.
– You call up random people and ask if you can borrow their dog, just for a few minutes.
– Your main goal in life is to become the president of Bulemia.
– Nearly everything you say involves the word, “P-toing!”
– You argue with yourself about which is better, to be eaten by a koala or to be loved by an infectious disease.
– You like to sit in cornfields for prolonged periods of time, and pretend that you’re a stalk.
– You think that exploding wouldn’t be so bad, once you got used to it.
– People offer you help, but you unfortunately interpret this as a violation of your rights as a boysenberry.