You know how to get juice out of a honeysuckle.
You get excited each and every time Falcons make playoffs, and you never get excited when Braves do exact same thing.
You cuss drive up to Atlanta, but you enjoy yourself after you get there.
You realize that people have different speaking accents in West, Northwest, Northeast, and Middle America, and that all of them are weird compared to right one, ours.
A tear comes to your eye every time you hear Ray Charles singing, “Georgia On My Mind,“ or when you hear Elvis singing “An American Trilogy” during Stone Mountain Park Laser Show.
You hate either Yellow Jackets or Bulldogs part of time, but hate Notre Dame Fighting Irish, Penn State Nittany Lions, Ohio State Buckeyes, Michigan Wolverines, and any other large northern football playing university all of time.
You think that one of those t-shirts dyed with red mud is truly a time saving idea.
You often wonder why anyone would be crazy enough to live someplace else, especially anywhere north of Mason-Dixon Line.
You still hold a car door open for a lady, and you still pay for her dinner when you take her out, no matter how little of her entree she actually ends up eating.
You know exactly what a brim is.
You understand that Dave Barry is a good writer, but that Lewis Grizzard was a great writer.
You remember what drink boxes and hoop cheese were.
You smile and act like you really do want to go up to Six Flags and ride all those roller coasters...
You’re convinced that Super Bowl Sunday ought to be a national holiday.
You smile anytime you hear words Tybee, St. Simons, or Jekyll. And let’s not even mention Sea Island...
You appreciate our state DOT department just as soon as you drive from Georgia into either Alabama, Florida, or South Carolina.
You understand why it’s fun to step on a maypop.
You know difference between boiled peanuts made from green peanuts and boiled peanuts made from just plain peanuts.