I got this meme from kest. The idea is to google "You know you're from (your state here) when" and then post one of the lists you find in your journal, with things that are true for you bolded and things you think are just plain wrong in italics. I'm going to start with Indiana, even though I haven't lived there for 7 years, because, hey, spent 20 formative years there, thanks!

You know you're from Indiana when...

You think the State Bird is Larry.
(Well, I'm fairly sure it's a cardinal, but I get the joke.)

You don't know what a "Pacer" is and have never even wondered.

You know that "Mellencamp" went to "Cougar" and back to "Mellencamp."

You can say "French Lick" without laughing out loud.

There's actually a college near you named "Ball State."
(At least, there was when I lived in IN.)

You know Batesville is the "casket making capital of the world," and you're proud of it.
(Might have known this at one time, though.)

The last "g" is silent in any word ending in "ing."
(Not anymore, but I was probably guilty of this as a child.)

You could never figure out "spring forward-fall back," so "Screw Daylight Savings Time!!"
(At least it was true when I lived there... I still feel weird everytime I reset my clocks out here.)

Your feelings get hurt whenever someone points out the acronym for Purdue University is "P-U."
(I knew folks this was true for, but I was always an IU fan myself...)

You know several people who have hit a deer.

You've never met any celebrities.
(Not true anymore, not if you count famous science fiction writers :-)

You've seen all the biggest bands 10 years after they were popular.
(Maybe not 10 years...)

Down south to you means Kentucky.
(At least it did at the time.)

You have no problem spelling or pronouncing "Terre Haute."
(I've even partied there.)

Your school was canceled because of cold.

Your school was canceled because of heat.
(Not often, though.)

You know what the phrase "Knee-high by the Fourth of July" means.
(It's how tall your corn should be, though these days it really should be taller by that point...)

You've heard of Euchre, you know how to play Euchre, and you are the master of Euchre.
(I miss this card game and keep trying to find three willing people to teach it to so I can play it out here.)

You've seen a running car, with nobody in it, in the parking lot of the grocery store, no matter what time of year it is.

You end your sentences with an unnecessary preposition. Example: "Where's my coat at?"
(I'm breaking myself of this habit, however.)

Detassling was your first job. Bailing hay, your second. Or you could stack hay, swim in the pond to clean off, and then have the strength to play a couple of games of hoops, all in the same barn lot on the same day.
(Pretty much untrue in the suburbs of Indy, where I grew up. Might be true in smaller towns, though.)

You've ever had to switch from "heat" to "A/C" in the same day -- "Stoke the fire" and "fling open the windows" for the older version.
(This is more true for San Francisco summers than Indiana!)

You say things like "catty-wumpus" and "kitty-corner."
(I don't say "catty-wumpus" but I do say "wopper-jawed" as in "That picture frame is all wopper-jawed, why don't you straighten it?" I'm *not* trying to break myself of this habit, as it reminds me of my mom and is also considered kinda cute by certain hip San Franciscan girls :-)

You install security lights on your house and garage, then leave both of them unlocked.
(Not true for me or my family, but I knew folks who did this, yes.)

You carry jumper cables in your car regularly.

You drink "pop."
(Now, see, I always said "coke".)

You know that bailin' wire was the predecessor to duct tape.
(Really?)

You know that strangers are the only ones who come to your "front" door.

Kids and dogs ride in the passenger seats of cars and the backs of pickups.

You think nothing of it in spring and fall to be stuck behind a farm implement driving on the roads.

High school basketball game draws a bigger crowd on the weekend than movie theaters, IF you have movie theaters.
(My high school went to the Final Four my junior year and it ROCKED!)

Driving is better in the winter because the potholes are filled with snow.
(However, I do *know* how to drive on snow, ice or wet streets.)

The local paper covers national and international headlines on one page, but requires six for local sports.
(God, I hated the emphasis on sports in that state!)

Can repeat the scores of the last eight IU games, but unless the MVP is a Hoosier, you are not sure who he is.
(Bah, sports!)

You can see at least two basketball hoops from your yard.
(True in Indiana, not so much in Oakland :-)

You can name every one of Bob Knight's "exploits" over the last few years.
(At least I could seven years ago when I was still living there...those were always big news.)

You shop at Marsh.
(Or Mr. D's!)

Damon Bailey was your childhood hero.
(Nope, but I know who he was/ is.)

The biggest question of your youth was "IU or Purdue."
(Heh... not for me, but for 90% of my high school class; I could get free tuition at a bunch of different private colleges because my mom worked for a sister school, so I chose one of those.)

Indianapolis is the "big city."
(Or Chicago. Not true any longer, of course.)

"Getting caught by a train" is a legitimate excuse for being late to school.

The Wabash River is the "biggest body of water" near your house.
(Now it's the San Francisco Bay! Movin' on up!)

You know several different definitions as to what a Hoosier really is.
(The "who's here" story, the "whose ear" story...)

People at your high school chewed tobacco.
(Don't miss this one bit; nasty!)

Everyone knows who the town cop is, where he lives, and whether he is at home or on duty.
(Nope, but my friend Katrina's dad was a cop and he was pretty darn cool.)

To get to school you had to drive on a gravel road, a road with several right-angle turns in it, or if you were really lucky, over a covered bridge.

People in your neighborhood really, REALLY like NASCAR.

You actually know what the CART vs IRL debate is about and have taken a side.
(??)

The vehicle of choice in your area is not a car, but a pickup.

You are a BIG John Mellencamp fan.
(I knew quite a few, though.)

You've been to the Covered Bridge Festival.
(I wish I had gone now, though!)

You took back roads to get there. "Why sit in traffic"?
(There was a great back roads way to get from my college to my parent's house; very soothing drive through orchards and farmland.)

To you, tenderloin is not an expensive cut of beef, but a big, salty, breaded piece of pork served on a bun with pickles.
(True back then, but now it's more the SF version below...)

You know you're in San Francisco when...

Your co-worker tells you they have 8 body piercings but none are visible.
(not currently, and at least a few of them were visible when it was true...)

When someone says TENDERLOIN - you don't think of steak.You think of danger.
(first part's true, but the second part should read "skeezy" or something like that)

You make over $100,000 and still can't afford a house.
(Not quite that bad, I don't think... not that I make anywhere near that much anyway!)

You take a bus and are shocked at 2 people carrying on a conversation in English.
(how about "are not shocked at 2 people carrying on a conversation in something other than English")

You never bother looking at the MUNI line schedule because you know the drivers have never seen it.
(Ok, so I may have optimistically looked at it once or twice...)

You can't remember... is pot illegal?

You've been to more than one baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor.
(I've heard of such things around here, of course, but never scored an invite.)

You have a very strong opinion where your coffee beans are grown and can taste the difference between Sumatra and Ethiopian.
(I like Peet's Costa Rica -- very creamy and smooth!)

You know which restaurant serves the freshest arugula.
(I have developed a taste for this leafy green out here and wish I had a garden so I could grow it again.)

You can't remember...is pot illegal?

A really great parking space can move you to tears.
(As we know, though, I cry easily.)

You know that anyone wearing shorts in June is just visiting from Ohio.
(Though I can usually tell tourists by their clothing, it's true... they look like Americans look in Europe, actually.)

You assume every company offers domestic partner benefits.

Your boss runs in "The Bay to Breakers".... it's the first time you have seen him/her nude.
(Though I have seen a picture of my boss nude, accidently. It's in a picture book we carry.)

Your child's 3rd grade teacher has two pierced ears, a nose ring and is named "Breeze." And, after telling that to a friend, they still need to ask if the teacher is male or female.

You are thinking of taking an adult class but you can't decide between yoga, aromatherapy, conversational mandarin or a building your own web site class.
(Not currently, but have in the past. I chose a basic Unix class, btw, because the company I was working for paid for it.)

You haven't been to Fisherman's Wharf since the first month you moved to SF and you couldn't figure out how to drive to Coit Tower if your life depended on it.
(I've been to Fisherman's Wharf when people are visiting, too. Oh, and I might be able to find Coit Tower from North Beach, but I've never been.)

You can't remember...is pot illegal?

Its barely sprinkling rain and there's a report on every news station..."STORM WATCH 2003."

A man walks on MUNI in full leather regalia and crotchless chaps. You don't notice.

A woman walks on MUNI with live poultry. You don't notice.
(I'd notice.)

You think any guy with a George Clooney haircut must be visiting from the midwest.

You know that any woman with a George Clooney haircut is not a tourist.

You keep a list of companies to boycott.
(I don't, but I feel guilty about it and keep meaning to.)

Your hairdresser is straight, your plumber is gay, the woman who delivers your mail is into S &M, and your Mary Kay rep is a guy in drag.
(I'm bolding this because the sentiment is right, even if the specifics aren't.)

Hey! Is Pot Illegal?

You realize the only Republicans you know are your Aunt and Uncle in Georgia.
(Not in Georgia, but again, the sentiment is right. I know not one Republican out here.)

... And, the Terminator is your governor.
(I'll echo kest on this: the shame. the shame!!)