Your first science fair project was a still.
You know most the of people in a bar and can't remember one of their names.
Anyone who kisses you must legally wait half an hour to drive.
They have to mix your blood with tonic water before giving it to anyone.
You've filed assault charges against a coffee table.
When you're out in the street, you are literally "out" in the street.
You think of drinking beer as "sobering up".
You can say "Whiskey, please" in 34 languages, but can't understand "Last call" in English.
Your liver takes sides against you during an intervention.
You know better than going near an open flame while you're bleeding.
Your bed looks a helluva lot like a park bench, and your bedroom looks a helluva lot like a park.
You need a blood transfusion to legally enter a dry county.
Your flask is spring-loaded.
You judge cologne by its bouquet and finish.
Your liver is in the Federal Witness Protection Program.
You enjoy cooking with wine, and sometimes you even put it in the food.
You've only been drunk once in your life, and so far it's lasted twenty-three years.
You liver has a restraining order on you.
You can tell the difference between a bottle of Jack and a bottle of Jim by the sound they make hitting the back of your head.
You've been cut off during communion.
You wonder why they call it Southern Comfort when they know darn well there is nothing comfortable about being handcuffed in the back of a squad car.
Growing-up means buying better booze, getting older means getting used to the cheap stuff again.
You miss the old days when you were younger than the cop that finds you sleeping in a dumpster.
You resent it when people call you a raving alcoholic, because you've never been to a rave in your life.
You keep a bottle of liquor next to your bed so you can have breakfast when you wake up.
You consider anything less than 80 proof a chaser.
You've eaten 87 packets of honey mustard because on the label it lists "white wine" as an ingredient.
You have convinced yourself that you're not drinking alone so long as your friends Jack, Jim and Johnnie are over.
Your wardrobe is divided into Summer, Winter and Things You Woke Up Wearing. The third category includes a number of thongs.
Your BAC is measured in proof.
You measure time by drinks, as in: "Hold on a shot, the movie doesn't start for another four bourbons."
To you "Last call!" sounds just like "Please don't leave! We love you and you're charming wit!"
You don't use cologne or aftershave because you have a moral objection to alcohol going anywhere but down your throat.
You'd exercise more but when you sweat, it smells like booze and that makes you thirsty.
You always finish your drinks because there are sober people in China.
When you come home to find your house burglarized the first thing you check is your liquor cabinet.
You'll join A.A. when they start serving cocktails at the meetings.
Your ATM is a Dumpster full of recyclable cans.
You'll sleep through a train wreck, yet spring awake to the sound of a bottle top turning.
You can order a beer in 17 different languages but don't know how to pronounce "Perrier".
You freak out when you wake up in your own bed.
You'd have passed the sobriety test if you hadn't mistaken the Breathalyzer for a bugle.
Your waking thought is, "Wow, look at all the gum stuck to the bottom of the table."
You got in trouble at work because your standard greeting is, "Hey, let's do a shot!"
You cursed the St. Bernard who rescued you because he had the nerve to bring only one lousy liter of brandy.
You consider a bottle of cheap whiskey and two shot glasses a very romantic gift.
You dream of the beautiful day when all races, religions, creeds and colors finally get it together and pitch in to buy you a case of decent scotch.
You show up to brewery tours wearing fins and a snorkel.
The tooth fairy left you shots of Rumpleminze.
You play the same song 20 times in a row at top volume at three in the morning and are certain the neighbors don't mind because, you know, it's such a kick-donkey song.
You think the porcelain hat looks good on you.
Your idea of karaoke is falling off the stage while yelling "Rock and roll!" into the microphone.
Your house is four times farther from the bar on the way back.
Your alarm clock is synchronized with the nearest liquor store's opening time.
You have threatened to murder and marry the same person in the span of a single happy hour.
You are the answer to the question, "What kind of idiot pukes in a bidet?"
While in the drunk tank your friends tried to sneak you a fifth of Beam in a cake.
You're personal trainer is a bartender.
You've known Jack Daniels so long you refer to him as John.
You watch Behind the Music and think "That' really not that much alcohol."
You refuse to play Golden Tee because there is no beer cart girl.
Think box wine is great; eagerly awaiting box whiskey.
You get cut off in absentia.
You won't rent an apartment that doesn't have a bar and liquor store within two blocks.
You're favorite cocktail is one quarter vodka, one quarter vodka, one half vodka and topped up with vodka.
You get angry when guys who can't hold their liquor keep stepping on your fingers.
You get nervous when there are only three bottles of liquor left in your house.
You forget how pants work.
You're not angry about the fly in your drink, you're angry he didn't chip in on the tab.
You've never taken a lesson, but after eight drinks you're pretty darn sure you can play the piano. And break dance. At the same time.
You hate it when your lightweight drinking buddies get so drunk you can barely see them.
You shake the same person's hand five times between last call and getting booted out.
You're entire life's savings equals a case a cheap beer and bottle of rotgut bourbon. And you're very excited by the fact.
You think Jim Beam is a utility company because it keeps shutting off your lights.
You have never taken a drink of a non-alcoholic beverage without thinking, "Man, a splash of booze would fix this right up."
You've apologized to people you don't remember meeting for things you don't remember doing in places you don't remember going.
You think of plate glass windows as more suggestions than guidelines.
You can't walk a straight line unless the floor is moving.
You dressed as a wino for halloween and no one noticed.
Half the bartenders in town know exactly which porch to leave you on.
Your tapeworm joined a 12 Step program.
You attempted to have a keg delivered to your cell in the drunk tank.
Your paychecks are deposited directly into a bar's bank account.
Instead of "Good morning" the first words out of your mouth are "Have you seen my trousers?"
You were looking forward to your court-mandated alcohol classes until you found out there wasn't any actual alcohol involved.
You hang an open umbrella from your drinking hand to catch the spillage.
Long Islands are your cup of tea.
Detox leaves a mint under your pillow.
You fall down a well and send Lassie to the liquor store.
Bartenders call you when you've been absent for more than two days.
Lawn sprinklers are sometimes your alarm clock.
You need help getting the breathalyzer in the right hole.
You lost a fistfight with yourself.
It takes two shots of schnapps to wash the taste of Breathalyzer out of your mouth.
You like to stop for a drink on the way to the fridge to get a beer.
You went on vacation for two weeks and the owner of your regular bar had his boat repossessed.
Bars call in their off-duty bartenders when you walk in the door.
You've asked a waiter: "What sort of wine goes with vodka?"
When buying floor tile, you press your face against it to see how comfortable it would be to sleep on.
You suspect that water, taken in small quantities, isn't all that dangerous.
You occasionally have meals with your wine.
You wake up every morning at the crack of ice.
You drink to forget you drink.
You distrust camels, or anyone else who can go a week without a drink.
People get drunk by shaking your hand.
You never eat breakfast on an empty stomach.
Beer is the reason you get up every afternoon.
The only drinking problem you have is the two-hands/one-mouth thing.
Your house is so messy because it spins like a top every time you lie down.
You drink to steady yourself, and sometimes you get so steady you can't move.
You never walk, you just occasionally stagger in a straight line.
You think that drunks are a lot like chess players, only drunk.
You forgot your fishing pole on your fishing trip and didn't notice.
You've been laid out on more floors than Johnson's Wax.
Your liver has hired an attorney.
You wish all the world's parking lots could be somehow turned into lush rain forests, because, you know, it's hard to hide from cops in a parking lot.
Your favorite bar installed a seat belt on your barstool.
The glass isn't half empty or half full. It just needs to be topped off.
You have two personalities: Mr. Responsibility and Mr. I-Think-I'll-Call-All-My-Old-Girlfriends-While-I'm-Blacked-Out.
The word "rent" loses all meaning after your fifth drink.
Whenever someone in a suit spills your well bourbon it magically transforms into top shelf scotch on the way to the floor.
You laugh at funerals but weep like a baby whenever you hear about a beer truck overturning.
You don't mind when your wife finds you stinking drunk in a bar, because then you can hit her up for a free drink.
Pink elephants get drunk and they see you.
You can get drunk on Scotch tape.
You're not a hard drinker. It's the easiest thing you do.
You like to have a drink between drinks.
You'd join AA but your always too drunk too memorize the pledge.
Your sleep number is 151 . . . proof.
You quit drinking once, and it was the worst afternoon of your life.
You won't eat an olive unless it's sterilized in gin.
You're living a champagne lifestyle on a beer budget. Except you don't like champagne so you just drink lots and lots of beer.
Gin rummy sounded like a fun game.
You have never screwed a cap back onto a liquor bottle.
Your friends pretend to be bartenders, just so you'll pay attention to them.
Your personal mantra is, "Where there's a swill, there's a sway."
You donate a pint of blood and the hospital has to card the patient they give it to.
Your liver enters itself in a Tough Man competition.
You wear Hawaiian shirts because it's tougher to see vomit stains on them.
As a child your dad helped you learn math by first explaining a four-count.
You use visualization techniques to master beer bongs.
In high school, you were voted most likely to drink in grade school.
2 for 1 is your lucky number.
A perfect date is soft music, a bottle of wine and moi.
A couple times a year you go on a "non-bender."
Before you go out each night you consult a psychic hotline to determine which bartenders will be pouring strong.
Peeling the label off a beer bottle arouses you.
You've discovered that teaching your dog to shoplift from liquor stores was not nearly as hard as teaching him to distinguish between Grey Goose and McCormick's.
You were against going to war with Iraq until you found out those poor fornicators aren't allowed to drink.
Your girlfriend left you because you accidentally cried out "Glenfiddich" while making love.
Your beer back comes with a tap.
You conduct weekly "assisted short-term flight" experiments every weekend. With the help of various bouncers.
You were the first person in line at the flu clinic because you heard they were giving away free shots.
You come home sober and your dog bites you.
The cafeteria in the detox center has a sandwich named after you.
You can't recognize your best friend unless he's leaning against a bar. With a drink in his hand. Drunk.
You like a splash of coffee in your morning whiskey.
You can blow a .08 BAC from twenty feet away.
You take swim trunks to brewery tours.
You're kept awake at night by the sound of your liver crying.
You prefer cold showers because the ice in your drink doesn't melt as fast.
You're shocked and confounded to discover they actually sell Coke without Jack Daniels.
You woke up on New Years Eve with the resolution of finding out which bars open earliest.
Get mad when your family calls you a
wino because they know darn well you prefer whiskey.
You're definition of a problem drinker is guy who won't buy you a round.
You hate the person you become when you black out, because, you know, that fornicator drinks all your beer.
You know hangovers only last a day, but a good drinking story lives on forever.
You don't like to think of it as blacking out. You prefer to think of it as exercising the lizard brain.
The only useful thing you got out of an A.A. meeting was learning how to identify your enablers. Because, hey, those guys are most likely to buy you a drink.
You distrust any wine that doesn't give you a decent hangover.
A good drinking buddy will bail you out of jail, but a great drinking buddy will be sitting in the cell beside you, saying, "Man, that was awesome!"
The last words you remember each night are, "Hold my beer and watch this!"
You refer to your mouth as your "booze hole."
You regularly ask bartenders, "So, how are the spill mats looking tonight? Anything good in there?"
Someone tells you they don't drink anymore, and you bravely respond, "Don't worry about it, buddy, I'll take up your slack!"
You prefer vodka that comes in the handy plastic squeeze-size bottles.
The bartender asks for your I.D. just to see how long it'll take you to find your pants.
You know that vodka is tasteless going down, but memorable coming up.
You know the best beer in the world is the one in your hand.
Beer does not make you fat. It makes you lean against bars, poles and tables.
You always drink Irish Coffee for breakfast because it contains all four adult food groups: fat, sugar, caffeine and alcohol.
You don't drink anymore . . . of course, you don't drink any less, either.
You distrust camels or anything else that can go a week without a drink.
Absolut wants to run an ad featuring a picture of your liver in the shape of a bottle.
You only drink to get rid of hangovers, and sometimes it takes all night.
You spend ninety percent of your paycheck on drinking and waste the rest.
You fell down two flights of stairs and didn't spill a drop.
You wonder why people need friends when you can just sit in a room and drink all day.
You believe the only Absolut(e) in life is vodka.
You went on a diet, swore off drinking and bar food, and in fourteen days you lost two weeks.
Booze may not be the answer, but it helps you to forget the question.
You exist in a perfect Zen circle: you drink because your wife nags and she nags because you drink.
You got so drunk on St. Patrick's day it seemed like every other day.
If it weren't for the olives in your martinis, you'd starve to death.
When your spirits get low, you use a straw.
You always cook with wine. Sometimes you even add it to the food.
You can walk into a 7-11 at 2am, look at the cheese dog that's been mutating on the grill since 8am and think, "Man, that looks tasty!"
You know liquor gets better with age, because the older you get the more you like it.
You only drink to steady your nerves. Sometimes you get so steady you have to be carried out.
You drink to make other people appear cool enough to hang out with you.
Quitting drinking is the easiest thing in the world. You've done it a thousand times.
You have a reserved parking space at four different liquor stores.
You woke up feeling really strange, then realized you didn't have a hangover.
With a bottle of Passport Scotch and a suitcase of Stroh's you can go on vacation without ever leaving your house.
You never drink anything stronger than vodka before breakfast.
One of your hobbies is sitting down and calculating exactly how much liquor your next paycheck would buy at the liquormart. Just out of curiosity, of course.
A cold cement floor looks comfortable and inviting.
You wish temperance leagues still sang anti-drinking religious hymns outside bars, because, you know, it would be a very funny thing to watch while getting hammered.
You think alcohol-fueled automobiles are the wave of the future because, hey, it certainly works for you.
You think a wrong number is an adequate excuse to go on a bender.
You hated Ted Kennedy until you realized he can probably outdrink you.
You happen to share the same home town, ethnicity, lifestyle, opinions, occupation or whatever-the-hell of whoever happens to be buying the drinks.
You consider vodka a chaser.
You volunteered to work for free for NASA when you heard about the gas clouds in space containing billions of gallons of alcohol.
You know a bottle of Jack under your bed is worth a million bottles in the liquor store after midnight.
Half the bouncers in town know exactly how much you weigh.
When you were in high school you had a poster of W.C. Fields on your bedroom wall.
The rotgut whiskey you buy is so disgusting you have to drink the first half the bottle just so you'll be drunk enough to put up with the taste of the second half.
Your career is interfering with your drinking.
You get so drunk Bud Light starts tasting like beer.
You read this magazine until you fall asleep, then use it as a blanket.
You heard you get drunker at higher altitudes so you always drink on top of the dumpster.
Your alarm clock is a garbage truck.
You masturbate to the liquor ads in Playboy.
You show up at the flu clinic to investigate rumors of "free shots."
You have a born-on date tattooed on your beer gut.
You hold a bottle of hair spray and say, "Man, if you were ice cold."
You're addressed by three separate liquor store owners as "the guy who paid for my houseboat."
You often confuse the word breakfast with Bloody Marys, i.e., "What are we going to have for Bloody Marys this morning?"
You know that liquor is especially tasty when it comes from the secret hiding place in your roommates's closet.
You can, in a pinch, construct a fully-operational keg tap from a cigarette lighter, two clothespins and lots of love.
You get in a heated conversation with your barstool neighbor about the proper way to vomit from a moving vehicle.
At 2am you proclaim, "The party ain't over until the fat lady says no!"
You need a cosigner to open a bar tab.
The monkey on your back is in rehab.
You know that, with a bouncer's assistance, man in capable of short-term flight.
You have recurring dream you're hired by the Guinness\Playboy Research foundation to prove twenty pints a day improves your sex life.
You often take your lover for romantic strolls among the picturesque aisles of liquor superstores.
You will eat a bug for a shot.
You know wine is mentioned in the Bible over 250 times. Perrier? Not once!
You have strained cigarette-butt infested beer through your teeth.
You consider 3.2 beer on Sunday as Uncle Sam's cruel taunt.
You can hear someone whisper "free beer" from three blocks away.
You know the heartbreak of watching the bartender dump the spill tray.
You call the bartending academy, inquiring as to what they do with their mistakes.
You refer to your refrigerator as "the stand-up beer cooler."
You give directions with liquor stores and bars as the major landmarks, i.e., "You'll pass Argonaut's Liquors on the left and Scooter's on the right, then turn right on the street between the Satire Lounge and the Lion's Lair, then continue until you see the tree that looks like a huge martini glass."
You think vomiting is the body's way of making room for the next round.
The first thing you look for on a wine label is the alcohol content.
You consider Aqua Velvet a daring after-hours liqueur.
You recognize last call as a secret signal that all unattended drinks are fair game.
When someone says "expensive wine," you think "gallon jug."
Four years of research and three hours of writing went into your masterful college thesis, "MD 20\20: Self-Esteem Enhancer For the Leisure Classes, or Cancer Cure for the Working Masses?"
