You Know You're From L.a. When...

[editor]

Found this on the following blog: http://www.blogthings.com/Los-Angeles.html

A lot of these items apply to Houston, as well.

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You Know You're From LA When...

You're driving on the 101 and see a clear cut definition of where the smog begins and ends

You go to a karaoke bar and battle with seven year old divas-in-training who are trying to steal your thunder

You're sitting in traffic for at least an hour at any given part of the day

You go to the beach and see that real lifeguards actually do look like the lifeguards from Baywatch

You see purple and gold and the word "Threepeat" on every corner

You begin to "lie" to your friends about where you are (i.e. "Yeah I'm like 20 minutes away") - when you know that it'll take you at least an hour to get there).

You eat a different ethnic food for every meal

You look around at the nice cars around you during traffic, thinking it'll be your favorite Laker or WB star.

You make a conscious choice to watch Jay Leno over David Letterman

You mourned for Tupac and not for Biggie

You know it's best not to be on the 405 at 4:05 pm.

Getting anywhere from point A to point B, no matter what the distance, takes about "twenty minutes".

You know what neighborhood someone lives in by the degree of damage incurred during the riots.

You've inadvertently learned Spanish.

You've got to bring the cat/plants in when it drops to 55 degrees.

In the "winter", you can go to the beach and ski at Big Bear on the same day.

You've bumped into a celebrity at El Pollo Loco.

You know what "sigalert", "PCH", and "the five" mean.

Your pizza delivery guy is also on contract with Warner Bros.

If your destination is more than 5 minutes away on foot, you're definitely driving.

You have a gym membership because it's mandatory.

Your TV show is interrupted by a police chase.

You can't fall asleep without the lull of a helicopter flying overhead.

When tourists ask where they can get souvenirs, you direct them to Venice Beach.

You know someone named Freedom, Rainbow, Persephone or Destiny.

You've trespassed through private property to get to the "Hollywood" sign.

You've partied in Tijuana at least once.

You know Hollywood has a "lake".

You don't stop at a STOP sign, you do a California Roll.

You've lost your car in the Century City Shopping Center parking lot.

You've ever bought oranges, flowers, cherries or peanuts on a freeway off-ramp.

You think that Venice is a beach.

You drive next to a Rolls Royce and don't notice.

You've started crossing a street and returned to the curb when the DON'T WALK sign started flashing.

You've never listened to NPR.

Calling your neighbors requires knowing their area code.

You have a favorite Thai restaurant.

You think Johnnny Rocket's is an accurate depiction of a diner.

You think Manhattan is a beach.

You eat pineapple on pizza.

You've been to Disneyland more times than Downtown.

When giving directions , you follow up with the phrase: "With/Without traffic."

You classify new people you meet by their Area Code. An "818" would never date a "562" and anyone from "323" or "213" is ghetto/second class. Best area code: "310."

Driving along, you see a high-speed police chase approaching in your rear view mirror. You don't panic or even flinch. Instead, you call your friends on your car phone and tell them you're on TV.

You know that if you drive two miles in any direction you will find a McDonald's or a Starbucks.

Your cell phone has left a permanant impression on the side of your head.

You never, ever go into the water at the Beach. You barely touch the sand.

Everyone you know has 3+ phone numbers. Home, Office, mobile, pager, two-way, voicemail.....

It is not unusual for your waitress at a restaurant to have blue streaked hair, a dragon tattoo and tounge piercing.

You are awakened in the middle of the night by a moderate earthquake. Your reply: "That ain't even a 5-pointer" and go back to sleep.

You think you are better than the people who live "Over the Hill". It don't matter which side of the hill you are currently residing, you are just better than them, for whatever reason.

You live 10 miles from work. It takes you 60 minutes to get home.

Walking out of Jamba Juice, you see that a movie is being shot on-location across the street.

You are not happy, or even slightly exited that there may be a movie star there. You just say, " They f*ckin better not be blocking my parking space."

You have to yell at your bank teller through a 2 inch thick wall of plexi-glass.

That last one goes for your local convienience store man, too.

You go to Las Vegas for a weekend getaway and the whole trip cost you $50.

You personally know at least 5 people with agents.

You personally know at least 3 people who have been in a movie or TV show.

You know what In N Out is and feel bad for all the other states because they don't have any.

You know that not everyone in Beverly Hills is a millionaire.

You know who the tinsel underwear dude in Venice Beach is.

You've done something on a street corner in an attempt to get money (i.e. sang, tap danced, told jokes).

You've gotten parking tickets from parking in the red zone in front of your house.

You say you live in LA when really you live in a subsection of a subsection of a subsection of southern LA.

Any major movie star is picking out the best portobello mushrooms next to you at the grocers and you don't notice.

The guy at 8:30 in the morning at Starbucks wearing the baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney IS George Clooney.

You really can never be too rich or too thin.

The gym is packed at 3pm...on a workday.

The workday starts at 10am...or whenever you get out of your therapy session.

Any invitation comes with, "Starts at 8pm or as soon as you can get through traffic."

You have never met a waiter that wasn't really an "Actor."

You never go to a coffee house without a copy of a script - any script.

It's sprinkling and there's a report on every news station about "STORM WATCH '99"

You call 911 and they put you on hold.

You have to leave the big company meeting early because Billy Blanks himself is teaching the 4:30 tae-bo class.

The three hour traffic jam you just sat through wasn't caused by a horrific 9 car pile-up, but by everyone slowing to rubberneck at a lost shoe lying on the shoulder.

A nurse can look at you in all seriousness and ask, "you don

[Gary]

Ha, ha. This is sooooo true. Thank God Houston is not LA, I do love my LA though.

[Casual Observer]

Sadly, at least half of those have become true here in Houston it seems.

[Subdude]

They have these for a lot of places. The Houston one has made the rounds several times.

You Know You're From Houston When...

You're on your way to work one February morning and suddenly you're trapped in a traffic jam caused by a chuck wagon and fifty horses -- with riders -- and you look around to see that everybody in the cars around you is wearing a cowboy hat.

The "farm-to-market" roads have seven lanes.

If you want to be a snob about your grocery shopping, you can go to a Randall's Flagship, a Kroger Signature, a Rice Epicurean, or soon, an HEB Central Market to buy bread and milk (but you have to dress up!)

You have to turn on the air conditioning in January, two days after a low of 29 degrees.

You have a Roach Story: You opened your flatware drawer to find a roach the size of the Taco Bell chihuahua. He stood up and looked you in the eye. You closed the drawer, bought new flatware -- and stored it in the oven.

When you see your neighbor dancing around the front yard, you don't think he's won the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes; you know he just stepped in a fire ant bed.

The name "Bud Adams" makes people snarl, and "Bum Phillips" doesn't mean a bad screwdriver.

"Luv ya Blue" still makes you smile, even if you did run the Oilers out of town.

You know that the Astrodome will always be the Eighth Wonder of the World.

You come to work in short-sleeves and walk out at noon to find that a "blue-tailed norther" has blown through, and the temperature has dropped 40 degrees in a matter of minutes.

Your neighbor's Christmas yard decorations look like a re-creation of the gunfight at the OK Corral, complete with a ten-foot tree decorated with boots and cowboy hats, and a Santa Claus who looks a lot like Wyatt Earp.

You wander into a section of town where you can't read the street signs because they're written in Asian characters instead of English, but you don't care because you can get great prices on fake designer merchandise there.

You go to an art festival on Westheimer and you're almost run down by two cross-dressers on roller blades, holding hands.

The "Killer Bees" are not stinging insects.

You hear everything but English spoken when you go to the Galleria to window-shop.

You know that "Dad gummit" has nothing to do with your father's failure to practice good dental hygiene.

You think "Y'all" is perfectly good usage if you're referring to more than one person.

For a Chili Cookoff, you'll use anything from armadillo to frog's legs, but you know that the only GOOD chili is made with chopped -- not ground -- beef, and it has NO beans and NO tomatoes.

Spring is not the season, Katy is not the lady, and 1960 is not the year.

Society matrons of "a certain age" still sport big hair, and faces that have gone east, west, and north rather than south.

You can leave your house, head out of town, and an hour later you still haven't left the city limits. (During rush hour, you haven't left your neighborhood.)

You've never seen I-45 in any condition other than under-construction -- and you've lived here for 20-30 years.

If the humidity is below 90 percent, it's a good hair day.

You know that "Clutch City" has nothing to do with automobile transmissions.

"The Dream" is not a fantasy.

The only real Mexican food is Tex-Mex.

A 747 with the Space Shuttle riding piggyback has actually flown low, right overhead, and nobody paid any attention to it.

You know that while saving you money, "Mattress Mac" has amassed more than the U.S. Treasury has.

You're happy to have beaten Los Angeles out of a football team, but you'd rather that they keep the title of "Smog Capital."

You see nothing unusual about an 80-something former sheriff's deputy who wears a white pompadour toupee and blue sunglasses, mispronounces names, allows televising of his frequent plastic surgeries, seems unnaturally obsessed with slime in the ice machine, and screams, "MAR-VIN ZIND-ler, EYE-witness news" into a television camera every night.

"Luv Ya Blue" still makes you smile, even if you did run the Oilers out of town.

You wander into a section of town where you can't read the street signs because they're written in Korean instead of English, but you don't care because you can get great prices on fake designer merchandise and great food.

You think y'all is a perfectly good word when you're referring to more than one person.

You see nothing unusual about an eighty-something former sheriff's deputy who wears a white pompadour toupee and blue sun-glasses, mispronounces names, allows televising of his frequent plastic surgeries, seems unnaturally obsessed with slime in the ice machine, and screams "MAR-VIN ZIND-ler, iiiiiiii-witness news" into a television.

You see your neighbor dancing around the front yard, and you don't think he's won the Publisher's Clearing House Sweepstakes; you know that he just stepped in a fire ant bed.

You're on your way to work one FEBRUARY morning and suddenly you're trapped in a traffic jam caused by a chuck wagon and fifty horses with riders and you look around to see that everybody in the cars around you is wearing a cowboy hat.

You have to turn on the air conditioning in January, two days after a low of 29 degrees.

The name "Bud Adams" makes people snarl, and "Bum Phillips" doesn't mean a bad screwdriver.

You come to work in short sleeves and walk out at noon to find that a "blue-tailed norther" has blown through and the temperature has dropped 40 degrees in a matter of minutes.

You go to an art festival on Westheimer and you're almost run down by two hand- holding cross dressers on roller blades.

For a Chili Cookoff, you'll use anything from armadillo to frog's legs, but you know that the only GOOD chili is made with chopped (not ground)- beef, and it has NO beans and NO tomatoes.

You know that Spring is not the season, Katy is not the lady, and 1960 is not the year.

You know that Society matrons of "a certain age" still sport big hair and faces that have gone east, west, and north rather than south.

You can leave your house, head out of town, and an hour later you still haven't left the city limits (during rush hour, you haven't left your NEIGHBORHOOD).

You've never seen I-45 in any condition other than under construction, and you've lived here for 20-30 years.

You think that the humidity being below 90 percent makes it a GOOD hair day.

You know that "Clutch City" has nothing to do with automobile transmissions.

The Dream" is not a fantasy.

The only REAL Mexican food is Tex-Mex.

You've seen a 747 with a Space Shuttle riding piggyback flying low right overhead, and nobody paid any attention to it.

You know that while saving you money, "Mattress Mac" has amassed more than the U.S. treasury.

You're happy to have beaten Los Angeles out of a football team, but you'd rather they keep the title of "Smog Capital."

You know that the Astrodome will always be the 8th wonder of the world.

You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from Houston.

[N Judah]

Ugh. L.A. is gross.

[Casual Observer]

You're on your way to work one February morning and suddenly you're trapped in a traffic jam caused by a chuck wagon and fifty horses -- with riders -- and you look around to see that everybody in the cars around you is wearing a cowboy hat.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Sigh.. stupid stereotypes. On a somewhat related note, MTV's Real World Austin is butchering the modern perception of Texas.

[RedScare]

No kidding. Does every tired, lazy producer of any show featuring Texas HAVE to put everyone in a cowboy hat, and chicks in shorts with cowboy boots?

[Gary]

Ugh.  L.A. is gross.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

LA is gross? There are many parts of LA that are beautiful.

[texasboy]

You begin to "lie" to your friends about where you are (i.e. "Yeah I'm like 20 minutes away") - when you know that it'll take you at least an hour to get there).

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

ok, i was too lazy to read all of them but i liked this one. i was cracking up because i am guilty of it.

[editor]

Sigh.. stupid stereotypes. On a somewhat related note, MTV's Real World Austin is butchering the modern perception of Texas.

How is it a stereotype? It happens. It's happened to me.

[Casual Observer]

How is it a stereotype?  It happens.  It's happened to me.

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

Oh.. I thought you were stereotyping. Damn.. that's just crazy.

[KimberlySayWhat]

You have to yell at your bank teller through a 2 inch thick wall of plexi-glass.

That also applies to their Taco Bells.

[NewMND]

How is it a stereotype? It happens. It's happened to me.

Yup, in Febuary I've heard that can happen to people if they get to close to the rodeo parade on the way to Reliant.

Oh, and this one.....

You wander into a section of town where you can't read the street signs because they're written in Asian characters instead of English, but you don't care because you can get great prices on fake designer merchandise there.

My friend tells me about she loves to go shop at Harwin to get purses and the like, but the whole things sounds so shady because she has to go into "back rooms" and all, I have to go see this place!

[KimberlySayWhat]

My friend tells me about she loves to go shop at Harwin to get purses and the like, but the whole things sounds so shady because she has to go into "back rooms" and all, I have to go see this place!

Yep, you do have to do that for the good stuff. I'm going to have to get my sister to hook me up. Only thing is that's mainly for people in the know.

[editor]

My wife's friend took us shopping on Harwin once. My wife is a perfume expert (actual expert, with degrees and such) and was able to tell that almost everything we saw for sale was either demo products given away as free gifts at Dillard's, or old expired stock that was spoiled (I didn't know perfume could spoil) and probably scavanged from dumpsters.