W
hen talking to people, you don't make eye contact because you're too busy observing the mud splashes on their shoes.
Y
ou put a $500 bust of yourself by the window, and crouch nearby, waiting for a bullet to go through it at any moment.
Y
ou can easily identify tyres by their tracks, but don't even remember your own phone number.
E
ven when you have e-mail facility, you prefer sending telegrams to your friends.
W
ho cares if your local policeman's name is Tom? You'll call him Lestrade. Anyway, the two names sound quite similar!
A
ll your newspapers are in tatters, because you insist on pasting every bit of information in your scrap-book. (Hmm, something looks quite fishy in that wiener ad. Well, that starts the 'W' section).
Y
our friends are quite irritated at your habit of saying 'Elementary'in reply to every question- including one by a stranger as to which school you went to!
E
very morning you plague your postman with questions because you're dead sure that he's the evil leader of a terrorist group.
('Come, come, old chap, I know you call yourself John Smith and all that rot, but what do your friends call you? The Silver Stinger?')
Y
ou are quite sure that the numbers on report cards are not just numerical grades, but are part of a deeper inner code. Thus, you eye every teacher with suspicion too.
Y
ou haven't laughed at even one of these 'Top Ten' items, because each and every one of the actions seem perfectly normal to you. ("Well, I do this everyday, and I don't see anything wrong in it!")
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