29 Ways You Know You're From Oregon
Sunshine? What is that?
The first day of spring, you put on a bikini and lay in your yard even though it's 55 degrees.
Coffee is a suitable beverage for breakfast, lunch and dinner—fair trade of course.
You prefer earth tones. Except for tie-dye. EVERYTHING SHOULD BE TIE-DYE.
Shoes? Oh, you mean Birkenstocks. You have them in every color.
Face paint. Stilts. Hemp jewelry. Loincloths. You wait all year to take your clothes off and pretend you are fairies with your friends at The Oregon Country Fair.
Weed, it’s what’s for dinner.
You travel hours for a VooDoo doughnut, but when you arrive you can’t decide between the bacon maple bar or the Diablos Rex.
You’re feel conflicted because you love local entrepreneur Phil Knight, but you hate sweatshops.
You have Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD).
Your skin is so fair it glistens in sunlight.
You knew before everyone else that 'The Simpsons' creator Matt Groening’s Springfield was based on Springfield, Oregon.
When you travel out of state you don’t understand why movie tickets are more than five dollars.
You have your acupuncturist, naturopathic doctor and herbalist on speed dial.
You only drink organic microbrews, and are likely home brewing a selection of summer ales in your basement. Twelfth time’s the charm.
You drank your water from a Nalgene bottle, until you found out it contained polycarbonate. Now you have a Kleen Kanteen.
Football is more than a sport; it’s a religious experience.
JK YOU'RE SUPER LIBERAL
You fantasize about going to college at Berkeley, preferably in the 1960's.
You hug trees. No really, you hug trees.
You drank your liquids from mason jars before the hipsters caught on.
No recycling bin? No problem. You’ll hold onto your cardboard salad container until you get home.
You watch 'Portlandia' not because it’s funny, but because it’s scarily accurate.
Your other car is a bike. Actually, both of your cars are bikes.
Your apartment is furnished by Etsy. Conveniently, you sell your hand-knitted hats on Etsy. Not so conveniently, bartering is not an option.
You probably have dreadlocks. And you’re probably white.
Every month is “No Shave November,” unless shaving is in reference to a peace sign carved into your chest hair.
And no matter how much rain, grey skies or pairs of Ugg boots you ruin in muddy puddles, you will always love the beaver state.
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