You think that the next number after eight is one.
You told that beautiful young lady "No, wait, I'm dancing that night."
You only go home to sleep, do laundry and to repack your dance bag.
You spend every long weekend at Lindy camps, workshops or competitions.
You frequently show up at work with a limp and/or bruises.
You no longer buy clothes you can't dance in.
You take the mirrors off your ceiling and put them on the walls.
You drink eight glasses of water a night, and only need to use the restroom for hand washing.
You suffer some other major bodily harm and still want to dance.
The local bands know which songs to save for your arrival.
Visiting bands know which songs to save for your arrival.
You bring your own CD's when you go to a social event "just in case."
You go to a wedding or company Christmas party and everyone stops dancing to watch you.
An 11 (look wise) on a scale of one to ten asks you to dance and you turn them down because they have no rhythm.
Like every other student, you stagger home after a night out - yet you've had nothing to drink.
You order drinks just to keep the club in business, but leave them sitting on the table while you dance instead of drinking them.
You know what "real men let go on five " means.
Your heart beats to this rhythm : Thump, thump, thump-de-dump, thump, thump, thump-de-dump.
You carry luggage to social events but aren't planning a trip.
You eat your main meal of the day at one in the morning.
Your newest line is "Hey, are those Bleyers?" and you really do want to talk about shoes.