Saturday, May 01, 2004


You can pronounce the word "molybdenite" correctly on the first try.
You think the primary function of road cuts is tourist attractions.
You own more pieces of quartz than underwear.
You associate the word "hard" with a value on the Mohs scale instead of "work".
The rockpile in your garage is taller than you are.
You have a strong opinion as to whether pieces of concrete are properly called "rocks".
The local university's geology department requests permission to hold field trips in your back yard.
You associate the name "Franklin" with New Jersey instead of "Ben".
There's amethyst in your aquarium.
Your wife has ever had to ask you to move flats of rocks out of the tub so she could take a bath.
Your spelling checker has a vocabulary that includes the words "polymorph" and "pseudomorph".
Your children are named Rocky, Jewel, and Beryl.
You were the only member of the group who spent their time looking at cathedral walls through a pocket magnifier during your trip to Europe.
They won't give you time off from work to attend the Tucson Gem and Mineral Show and you go anyway.
You begin fussing because the light strips you installed on your bookshelves aren't full spectrum.
You've ever purchased an individual, unfaceted rock, regardless of the price.
You've ever spent more than ten dollars for a book about rocks.
You shouted "Obsidian!" to a theater full of movie-goers while watching "The Shawshank Redemption".
The polished slab on your bola tie is six inches in diameter.
You find yourself compelled to examine individual rocks in driveway gravel.
The USGS identifies your collection as a major contributing factor to isostasy in your state.
You know the location of every rock shop within a 100 mile radius of your home.
When they haven't seen you for a week, the shop owners send you get well cards.
You're retired and still thinking of adding another room to your house.
Your idea of a "quiet, romantic evening at home" involves blue mineral tack and thumbnail boxes.
You're planning on using a pick and shovel while you're on vacation.
You can point out where Tsumeb is on a world globe.
You think Franklin, New Jersey might be a cool place to go on a vacation.
You associate the word "saw" with diamonds instead of "wood".
You begin wondering what a complete set of the Mineralogical Record is worth.
When you find out, you actually consider paying it.
You've fabricated a backpack for your dog.
You've installed more than one mineralogical database program on your computer.
The baggage handlers at the airport know you by name and refuse to help with your luggage.
You receive a letter from the county informing you a landfill permit is required to put anymore rocks on your property. Your internet home page has pictures of your rocks.
There's a copy of Dana's Manual next to your toilet. You still think pet rocks are a pretty neat idea.
You get excited when you discover a hardware store that stocks 16 pound sledge hammers and 5 foot long pry bars.
You debate for months on the internet concerning the relative advantages and drawbacks of vibratory verses drum tumblers.
Your employer has asked you not to bring any more rocks to the office until they have time to reinforce the floor.
You decide not to get married because you'd rather keep the rock.

The above actually deal more with rockhounds, but some of it applies to geologists as well.

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