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You Know You're Californian When...
15 years ago
Your monthly house payments exceed your monthly income.
You make over $300,000 and still can’t afford a house.
You take a bus and are shocked when two people carry on a conversation in English.
Your coworker has 8 body piercings and none are visible.
You speak Spanish, but you’re not Mexican.
Your child’s 3rd-grade teacher has purple hair, a nose ring, and is named Flower.
You don’t know anyone’s phone number unless you check your cell phone.
You’ve been to a baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor.
You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown, and you can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian. (no, but does being able to taste the difference between Hawaiian and Arabica count?)
You begin to “lie” to your friends about how close you are when you know damn well that it’ll take you at least an hour to get there. (Sure, except that I'm not lying)
Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about “twenty minutes.” (like ass... it MIGHT take only 20 mins to get across my home town on a good day.)
You drive to your neighborhood block party. (You kidding? No one knows their neighbors well enough in SoCal to warrant a blockparty)
A really great parking space can totally move you to tears.
Gas is $1.00 per gallon more than anywhere else in the US (Honestly, knowing I'm paying at least a dollar less for gas here in CO than in CA makes it so I don't care how much I pay here.)
Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30 am at Starbucks wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney really IS George Clooney.
You can’t remember … is pot illegal?
You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cell phones or pagers.
It’s barely sprinkling rain outside, so you leave for work at least an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents. (TOTALLY... no one in SoCal knows how to deal with even the slightest bit of rain.)
Both you AND your dog have therapists, psychics, personal trainers and cosmetic surgeons.
You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don’t notice.
In the “winter,” you can go to the beach, ski at Big Bear, mow your lawn in your shorts and maybe get a sunburn all on the same day. (My dad always made a point of getting the whole family together in shorts for a picture to send back to the home office in Wisconsin on Christmas morning)
You eat a different ethnic food for every meal. (I miss that ability SOOOOO much)
If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you’re definitely driving.
Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code.
You know what “In-’N-Out” is and feel bad for the other states that don’t have any.
You don’t stop at a STOP sign, you do a California roll.
You’ve partied in Tijuana at least 3 times and you can’t remember at least 1 of them.
You go to a tanning salon before you go to the beach.
Your have a permanent impression on the side of your head from your cell phone.
You know that Venice is a beach.
The waitress asks if you want “carbs” in your meal.
You know who the tinsel underwear dude in Venice Beach is.
You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An “818” would never date a “562” and so on…
You call 911 and they put you on hold.
You have a gym membership because it’s mandatory.
The gym is packed at 3pm … on a workday.
You think you are better than the people who live “Over the Hill.” It doesn’t matter which side of the hill your home is, you are just better than they are.
You know that if you drive two miles in any direction you will find a McDonald’s or a Starbucks. (Two miles? You kidding? There were two Starbucks, a Coffeebean, a BK, a Taco Bell, and a Japanese food/fried chicken joint within 2 BLOCKS of my high school)
You know what “sigalert,” “PCB,” and “five” mean. (Yes, but it should be "Five", and that really is a SoCal thing rather than a general CA thing)
You can’t remember . . . is pot illegal?
It’s barely sprinkling rain and there’s a report on every news station: “STORM WATCH.”
The Terminator is your governor. (Correction; "Governator")
You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from California.
You make over $300,000 and still can’t afford a house.
You take a bus and are shocked when two people carry on a conversation in English.
Your coworker has 8 body piercings and none are visible.
You speak Spanish, but you’re not Mexican.
Your child’s 3rd-grade teacher has purple hair, a nose ring, and is named Flower.
You don’t know anyone’s phone number unless you check your cell phone.
You’ve been to a baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor.
You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown, and you can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian. (no, but does being able to taste the difference between Hawaiian and Arabica count?)
You begin to “lie” to your friends about how close you are when you know damn well that it’ll take you at least an hour to get there. (Sure, except that I'm not lying)
Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about “twenty minutes.” (like ass... it MIGHT take only 20 mins to get across my home town on a good day.)
You drive to your neighborhood block party. (You kidding? No one knows their neighbors well enough in SoCal to warrant a blockparty)
A really great parking space can totally move you to tears.
Gas is $1.00 per gallon more than anywhere else in the US (Honestly, knowing I'm paying at least a dollar less for gas here in CO than in CA makes it so I don't care how much I pay here.)
Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30 am at Starbucks wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney really IS George Clooney.
You can’t remember … is pot illegal?
You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cell phones or pagers.
It’s barely sprinkling rain outside, so you leave for work at least an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents. (TOTALLY... no one in SoCal knows how to deal with even the slightest bit of rain.)
Both you AND your dog have therapists, psychics, personal trainers and cosmetic surgeons.
You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don’t notice.
In the “winter,” you can go to the beach, ski at Big Bear, mow your lawn in your shorts and maybe get a sunburn all on the same day. (My dad always made a point of getting the whole family together in shorts for a picture to send back to the home office in Wisconsin on Christmas morning)
You eat a different ethnic food for every meal. (I miss that ability SOOOOO much)
If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you’re definitely driving.
Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code.
You know what “In-’N-Out” is and feel bad for the other states that don’t have any.
You don’t stop at a STOP sign, you do a California roll.
You’ve partied in Tijuana at least 3 times and you can’t remember at least 1 of them.
You go to a tanning salon before you go to the beach.
Your have a permanent impression on the side of your head from your cell phone.
You know that Venice is a beach.
The waitress asks if you want “carbs” in your meal.
You know who the tinsel underwear dude in Venice Beach is.
You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An “818” would never date a “562” and so on…
You call 911 and they put you on hold.
You have a gym membership because it’s mandatory.
The gym is packed at 3pm … on a workday.
You think you are better than the people who live “Over the Hill.” It doesn’t matter which side of the hill your home is, you are just better than they are.
You know that if you drive two miles in any direction you will find a McDonald’s or a Starbucks. (Two miles? You kidding? There were two Starbucks, a Coffeebean, a BK, a Taco Bell, and a Japanese food/fried chicken joint within 2 BLOCKS of my high school)
You know what “sigalert,” “PCB,” and “five” mean. (Yes, but it should be "Five", and that really is a SoCal thing rather than a general CA thing)
You can’t remember . . . is pot illegal?
It’s barely sprinkling rain and there’s a report on every news station: “STORM WATCH.”
The Terminator is your governor. (Correction; "Governator")
You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from California.
Leo383
~leo383
In-’N-Out FTW oh at lest one friend know a guy who know a guy who know a to b celebrity.
