You Might Be A Blueneck If...
For breakfast, you prefer potato au gratin to grits.
Instead of referring to two or more people as “y’all,” you call them “you guys,” even if both of them are women.
More than two generations of your family have been kicked out of the same prep
school in Connecticut.
None of your fur coats are homemade.
The farthest south you’ve ever been is the perfume counter at Neiman Marcus.
The last time you smiled was when you prevented someone from getting on an
onramp to the highway.
You call binoculars opera glasses.
You can do your laundry without quarters.
You can’t spit out the car window without pulling over to the side of the road
You don’t have any hats in your closet that advertise feed stores.
You don’t have any problems pronouncing “Worcestershire sauce” correctly.
You don’t have at least one can of WD-40 somewhere around the house.
You don’t have bangs.
You don’t have doilies, and you certainly don’t know how to make one.
You don’t know anyone with at least two first names (i.e. Carolyn Elizabeth, Joe
Bob, Faye Ellen, Billy Ray, Mary Jo, Bubba Dean, Joe Dan, Mary Alice, etc.)
You don’t know what applique is.
You don’t know what moon pie is.
You don’t see anything wrong with putting a sweater on a poodle.
You don’t think Ted Kennedy has an accent.
You eat fried chicken with a knife and fork.
You get freaked out when people on the subway talk to you.
You have never planned your summer vacation around a gun-n-knife show.
You have no idea what a polecat is.
You think barbecue is a verb meaning, “to cook outside.”
You think Heinz Ketchup is really SPICY!
You think more money should go to important scientific research at your
university than to pay the salary of the head football coach.
You would never wear pink or an applique sweatshirt.
You would rather have your son become a lawyer than grow up to get his own TV
You would rather vacation at Martha’s Vineyard than Six Flags.
You’ve never, ever, eaten okra, fried or boiled.
You’ve never had an RC cola.
You’ve never seen a live chicken, and the only cows you’ve seen are on road