You know you're from Boston when...
You think of Philadelphia as the Midwest.
You think that it's your God-given right to cut someone off in traffic.
You think that there are only 25 letters in the alphabet (no R's).
You think that three straight days of 90+ temperatures is a heat wave.
All of your pets are named after Celtics or Bruins.
You refer to six inches of snow as a "dusting."
Just hearing the words "New York" puts you in an angry mood.
You don't think you have an attitude.
You always "bang a left" as soon as the light turns green, and oncoming traffic always expects it.
Everything in town is "a five-minute walk."
When out of town, you think the natives of the area are all whacked.
You still can't bear to watch highlights from Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.
You have no idea what the word "compromise" means.
You believe that using your turn signal is a sign of weakness.
You don't realize that you walk and talk twice as fast as everyone else.
You're anal, neurotic, pessimistic, and stubborn.
You think that if someone is nice to you, that they either want something from you or are from out-of-town.
Your favorite adjective is "wicked".
You think that 63-degree ocean water is warm.
You think that the Kennedys are misunderstood.
Pay no attention to the street names. There's no school on School Street, no court on Court Street, no dock on Dock Square, no water on Water Street.
Back Bay streets are in alphabetical odda: Arlington, Berkeley, Clarendon, Dartmouth. So are South Boston streets: A, B, C, D.
If the streets are named after trees (e.g. Walnut, Chestnut, Cedar), you're on Beacon Hill. If they're named after poets, you're in Wellesley. All avenues are properly referenced by their nicknames: Comm Ave., Mass Ave., Dot Ave. Dot is Dorchester, Rozzie is Roslindale, JP is Jamaica Plain. Readville doesn't exist.
The North-East-West-South thing: Southie is South Boston. The South End is the South End. Eastie is East Boston. The North End is east of the West End. The West End and Scollay Square are no more -- a guy named Rappaport got rid of them one night.
Frappes have ice cream, milkshakes don't.
If it is fizzy and flavored, it's tonic. Soda is CLUB SODA. Pop is Dad.
When we mean Tonic WATER, we will ask for Tonic WATER.
The smallest beer is a pint.
Scrod is whatever they tell you it is, usually fish. If you paid more than $6/pound, you got scrod.
It's not a water fountain; it's a bubblah.
It's not a trashcan; it's a barrel.
It's not a shopping cart; it's a carriage.
It's not a purse; it's a pockabook.
Brown bread comes in a can. You open both ends, push it out, heat it, and eat it with baked beans.
They're not franks; they're haht dahgs. Franks are money in France.
Don't call it "Beantown."
Don't pahk your cah in Hahvid Yahd ... they'll tow it to Meffa (Medford) or Slumaville (Somerville).
Don't swim in the Charles, no matter what Bill Weld tells you.
Don't sleep in the Common.
Don't wear Orange in Southie on St. Patrick's Day.
There are two State Houses, two City Halls, two courthouses, two Hancock buildings (one old, one new).
Route 128 is also I-95. It's also I-93.
It's the Sox, the Pats (or Patsies, if they're losing), the Seltz, or the Broons.
The underground train is not a subway. It's the "T" and it doesn't run all night (fah chrysakes, this ain't Noo Yawk!)
email note: This was beautiful... I would very much like to tip my hat to dem folk dat put dat dere ting togeder. Nice jaab. There were a few tings dat cha missed doh. When a Bostonian says, 'Wahchaupta?' they mean, 'What are you up to?"; when you realize that the left lane on any given highway actually belongs to Connecticut! (you probably think I'm kidding); and finally you know that you have crossed the northern border of the state when people are actually only using the left lane just for passing. -tjoe