You know how to get the juice out of a honeysuckle.

You get excited each and every time the Falcons make the playoffs, and you never get excited when the Braves do the exact same thing.

You cuss the drive up to Atlanta, but you enjoy yourself after you get there.

You realize that people have different speaking accents in the West, Northwest, Northeast, and Middle America, and that all of them are weird compared to the right one, ours.

A tear comes to your eye every time you hear Ray Charles singing, “Georgia On My Mind,“ or when you hear Elvis singing “An American Trilogy” during the Stone Mountain Park Laser Show.

You hate either the Yellow Jackets or Bulldogs part of the time, but hate the Notre Dame Fighting Irish, the Penn State Nittany Lions, the Ohio State Buckeyes, the Michigan Wolverines, and any other large northern football playing university all of the time.

You think that one of those t-shirts dyed with red mud is truly a time saving idea.

You often wonder why anyone would be crazy enough to live someplace else, especially anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon Line.

You still hold a car door open for a lady, and you still pay for her dinner when you take her out, no matter how little of her entree she actually ends up eating.

You know exactly what a brim is.

You understand that Dave Barry is a good writer, but that Lewis Grizzard was a great writer.

You remember what drink boxes and hoop cheese were.

You smile and act like you really do want to go up to Six Flags and ride all those roller coasters...

You’re convinced that Super Bowl Sunday ought to be a national holiday.

You smile anytime you hear the words Tybee, St. Simons, or Jekyll. And let’s not even mention Sea Island...

You appreciate our state DOT department just as soon as you drive from Georgia into either Alabama, Florida, or South Carolina.

You understand why it’s fun to step on a maypop.

You know the difference between boiled peanuts made from green peanuts and boiled peanuts made from just plain peanuts.

You understand that the word “Coke” can mean almost any kind of soft drink product.

You want to whup anyone who tries to inject political viewpoints or causes into the Masters Golf Tournament.

You hear the word “grits,” and you either think about a bowl and a spoon or Deborah Ford.

You understand that a cold beer is a good beer, and that the worst make-out session you’ve ever participated in was still pretty darn good.

You’re convinced that if a college football team outside of the South is picked to be national champion that the whole system is rigged.

You still have a hankerin’ for a ‘76 black Trans-Am.

You understand why pecan syrup is the best thing in the world to put on pancakes or waffles.

You smile when you think about Chastain Park or the Fox Theatre, and you smile even more when you think about Little Richard putting on a show in either.

You’ve eaten at the Corkscrew Cafe up in Dahlonega.

You know that there’s nothing sweeter than a Georgia peach, and you really don’t care how that gets interpreted.

You fret aloud about how much food you’re going to need to lay in when the weather forecaster tells you that a winter storm front may dump up to half an inch of snow in your area.

You’d never admit it, but even though you’re a Georgia fan you wanted to see Georgia Tech win the NCAA basketball championship this past year because they’re from our great state.

The word Nancy Hanks means more to you than just the name of a woman.

You might argue which hot dog is the best, Nu-Way or the Varsity, but down deep you thank God that they’re both served right here in Georgia.

You’d rather kiss an ape’s pink heiny than make that all important business trip up to New Jersey.

You well understand what the difference is between “sippin’ wine” and “chuggin’ wine.”

You cuss kudzu and are sort of weirdly proud of it all at the same time...