You Know You’re Finally a Sedonan When: by J.C. Brookwood
Anatomically correct dolls don’t resemble any of your body parts.
Your neighbors get frightened when they see you naked.
You realize, too late, that your entire life has been based on a true story.
You join a movement to get drugs off the street and back into the medicine cabinets where they belong.
Your sunscreen nearly doubles your body weight.
Some people think you are a large Shar-Pei.
You go to an antique auction and someone bids on you.
Your leg of lamb has a hip replacement.
You have to wear pants with air bags to protect yourself.
Your belt buckle has your name on it – upside down for identification.
You no longer played board games that involve heavy lifting, like chess.
You now use garter belts to hang hummingbird feeders.
You sit at traffic signal green lights to meet new people.
You ask for a special table at restaurants – nearest the bathroom.
You become an expert with Ace bandages.
The goo in your lava lamp is turned into pumice.
You now agreed that missing a doctor’s appointment can add three years to your life.
You stopped receiving invitations to strip poker parties.
Instead of painting the town red, you’d be happy with a little page.
You read the Excentric because laughter is the best medicine and because nothing else seems to help.
You try creating new recipes using Mylanta.
You think travel was a lot smoother before there were automobiles.
