I usually don't pass on these jokes, but this one has a few funny stereotypes about us New Orleanians…
You know you're from New Orleans when….
You reinforce your attic to store Mardi Gras beads.
You save newspapers, not for recycling but for tablecloths at crawfish boils.
When you give directions you use "lakeside and riverside' not north & south.
Your ancestors are buried above the ground.
You get on a green street car to go to the park and a red one to the French Quarter.
You listen to holiday songs such as "the 12 yats of Christmas" and "Santa and his reindeer used to live next door."
You walk on the "banquet" and stand in the "neutral ground" "by ya mommas."
Someone asks for directions and you stop and help them with a smile.
You start an angel food cake with a roux.
You think a lobster is a crawfish on steroids.
You think boudin, hogshead cheese, and a Bud is a bland diet.
You think Ground Hog Day and the Boucherie Festival are the same holiday.
You take a bite of five-alarm chili and reach for the Tabasco.
Fred's Lounge in Mamou means more to you than the Grand Ole Opry.
You have an *envie* for something instead of a craving.
You use a "#3" washtub to cover your lawn mower or your outboard motor.
You use two or more pirogues to cover your tomatoes to protect them from the late frost.
You use a gill net to play tennis, badminton, or volleyball.
The horsepower of your outboard motor is greater than that of your car motor.
You pass up a trip abroad to go to the Crawfish Festival in Breaux Bridge.
You are asked to name the holy trinity and your reply is "onions, celery, bell pepper."
You let your black coffee cool, and find that it has gelled.
You describe a link of boudin and cracklins as "breakfast."
Every once in a while, you have waterfront property.
Your mama announces each morning, "Well, I've got the rice cooking …what will we have for dinner?"
None of your potential vacation destinations are north of the old Mississippi River Bridge (US 190).
You refer to Louisiana winters as "Gumbo Weather."
You get a disappointing look from your wife and describe it as, "She passed me a pair of eyes."
You think of gravy as a beverage.
You greet your long lost friend at the Lafayette Regional Airport with "AAAAAAAYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE."
You sit down to eat boiled crawfish and your host says, "Don't eat the dead ones," and you know what he means.
You learned Bourre the hard way: Holding yourself upright in your crib.
You don't know the real names of your friends, only their nicknames.
You give up Tabasco for Lent.
You worry about a deceased family member returning in spring floods.
You don't learn until high school that Mardi Gras is not a national holiday.
You push little old ladies out of the way to catch Mardi Gras throws.
You leave a parade with footprints on your hands.
You believe that purple, green, and gold look good together
Your last name isn't pronounced the way it's spelled.
You know what a nutria is but you still pick it to represent your baseball team.
You like your rice and your politics dirty.
No matter where else you go in the world, you are always disappointed in the food.
Your loved one dies and you book a jazz band before you call the coroner.
Your accent sounds nothing like Harry Connick, Jr's.
You can sing these jingles by heart: "Rosenberg's, Rosenberg's, 1825 Tulane;" "At the beach, at the beach, the Pontchartrain Beach…"
You ask, "How they running?" and "Are they fat?" but, you're inquiring about seafood quality and not the Cresent City Classic.
When a hurricane is imminent, you have a lot more faith in Nash Roberts than some Super Doppler 6000.
Your town is low on the education chart, high on the obesity chart and you don't care because you're No. 1 on the party chart.
Nothing shocks you. Period. Ever.
Being in a jam at Tulane and Broad isn't the same as being stuck in traffic.
Your idea of health food is a baked potato instead of fries with your seaf ood platter.
You have to take your coffee and favorite coffeemaker with you on a three-day trip.
You have sno-ball stains on your shoes.
You call tomato sauce "red gravy."
Your middle name is your mother's maiden name, or your father's mother's maiden name, or your mother's mother's maiden name, or your grandmother's mother's maiden name, or your grandfather's mother's maiden name.
On certain spring days, Crawfish Monica is your breakfast.
Your house payment is less than your utility bill.
You've done your laundry in a bar.
You don't show your "pretties" during Mardi Gras.
You know that Tchoupitoulas is a street and not a disease.
You "boo" the mayor on national television.
You wear sweaters in because it ought to be cold.
Your grandparents are called "Maw-Maw" and "Paw-Paw."
Your Santa Claus rides an alligator and your favorite Saint is a football player.
You suck heads, eat tail, sing the blues and you actually know where you got them shoes.
You shake out your shoes before putting them on.
You don't think it inappropriate to refer to a large adult male as "Li'l Bubba."
You know why you should never, ever swim by the Lake Pontchartrain steps (for more than one reason).
You cringe every time you hear an actor with a Southern or Cajun accent in a "New Orleans-based" movie or TV show.
You have to reset your clocks after every thunderstorm.
You waste more time navigating back streets than you would if you just sat in traffic.
You still call the Fairmont Hotel, the Roosevelt.
You consider garbage cans a legal step to protecting your parking space on a public street.
You fall asleep to the soothing sounds of four box fans.
Your one-martini lunch becomes a five-bloody mary afternoon… and you keep your job.
You're walking in the French Quarter with a plastic cup of beer. When it starts to rain, you cover your beer instead of your head.
You refer to people older than you as Mr or Mrs. and their first name.
You eat dinner out and spend the entire meal talking about all the other good places you've eaten.
You actually get these jokes and pass them on to other friends from New Orleans.
