You know you're addicted to the Internet when...
You kiss your girlfriend's home page.
Your bookmark takes 15 minutes to scroll from top to bottom.
Your eyeglasses have a web site burned in on them.
You find yourself brainstorming for new subjects to search.
You refuse to go to a vacation spot with no electricity and no phone lines.
You finally do take that vacation, but only after buying a cellular modem and a laptop.
You spend half of the plane trip with your laptop on your lap...and your child in the overhead compartment.
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 find yourself typing "com" after every period when using a word processor.com
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've already visited all the links at Yahoo and you're halfway through Lycos. or [C]ontinue?
You can't call your mother...she doesn't have a modem.
You realize there is not a sound in the house and you have no idea where your children are.
You check your mail. It says "no new messages." So you check it again.
You refer to your age as 3.x.
You have comandeered your teenager's phone line for the net and even his friends know not to call on his line anymore.
Your phone bill comes to your doorstep in a box.
Even though you died last week, you've managed to retain OPS on your favorite IRC channel.
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.
You name your children Eudora, Mozilla and Dotcom.
Your husband tells you he's had the beard for 2 months.
You miss more than five meals a week downloading the latest games from Apogee.t, or [C]ontinue?
You start looking for hot HTML addresses in public restrooms.
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 move into a new house and decide to Netscape before you landscape.
You tell the cab driver you live at http://123.elm.street/house/bluetrim.html
You actually try that 123.elm.street address.
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.
Your friends no longer send you e-mail...they just log on to your IRC channel.
You buy a Captain Kirk chair with a built-in keyboard and mouse.
Your wife makes a new rule: "The computer cannot come to bed."
You are so familiar with the WWW that you find the search engines useless.
You get a tatoo that says "This body best viewed with Netscape 1.1 or higher."
You never have to deal with busy signals when calling your ISP...because you never log off.
You ask a plumber how much it would cost to replace the chair in front of your computer with a toilet.
You forget what year it is.
You start tilting your head sideways to smile.
You ask your doctor to implant a gig in your brain.
You leave the modem speaker on after connecting because you think it sounds like the ocean wind...the perfect soundtrack for "surfing the net".
You begin to wonder how on earth your service provider is allowed to call 200 hours per month "unlimited."
You turn on your computer and turn off your wife.
Your wife says communication is important in a marriage...so you buy another computer and install a second phone line so the two of you can chat.
As your car crashes through the guardrail on a mountain road, your first instinct is to search for the "back" button.
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This page created and maintained by:
Kuah Wee Khai
Copyright © 1997