Addicted to Redbubble and the Internet….

Your eyeglasses have a web site burned in on them.

All your daydreaming is preoccupied with getting a faster connection to the net: 28.8…ISDN…cable modem…T1…T3.

And even your night dreams are in HTML.

You turn off your modem and get this awful empty feeling, like you just pulled the plug on a loved one.

You refer to going to the bathroom as downloading.

Your heart races faster and beats irregularly each time you see a new WWW site address in print or on TV, even though you’ve never had heart problems before.

You step out of your room and realize that your parents have moved and you don’t have a clue when it happened.

You turn on your intercom when leaving the room so you can hear if new e-mail arrives.

Your wife drapes a blond wig over your monitor to remind you of what she looks like.

All of your friends have an @ in their names.

When looking at a pageful of someone else’s links, you notice all of them are already highlighted in purple.

Your dog has its own home page.

You can’t call your mother…she doesn’t have a modem.

You check your mail. It says “no new messages.” So you check it again.

Your phone bill comes to your doorstep in a box.

You code your homework in HTML and give your instructor the URL.

You don’t know the sex of three of your closest friends, because they have neutral nicknames and you never bothered to ask.

Your husband tells you he’s had the beard for 2 months.

You wake up at 3 a.m. to go to the bathroom and stop and check your e-mail on the way back to bed.

You tell the kids they can’t use the computer because “Daddy’s got work to do” and you don’t even have a job.

When filling out your driver’s license application you give your IP address.

You no longer ask prospective dates what their sign is, instead your line is “Hi, what’s your URL?”

Instead of calling you to dinner, your spouse sends e-mail.

You’re amazed to find out spam is a food.

You “ping” people to see if they’re awake, “finger” them to find out how they are, and “AYT” them to make sure they’re listening to you.

You search the Net endlessly hoping to win every silly free T-shirt contest.

You introduce your wife as “my lady@home.wife” and refer to your children as “client applications”.

At social functions you introduce your husband as “my domain server”.

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