Your friends tell you that you have been acting strange lately, and then you hit them several times with a sledgehammer.

Everyone you meet appears to have tentacles growing out of places you wouldn't expet tentacles to be grown from.

You start out each morning with a 30-minute jog around the bathroom.

Every commercial you hear on the radio reminds you of death.

People stay away from you whenever they hear you howl.

You laugh out loud during funerals.

Nobody listens to you anymore, because they canb't understand you through that hockey mask.

You begin to stop and consider all of the blades of grass you've stepped on as a child, and worry that their descendants are going to one day seek revenge.

You have meaningful conversations with your toaster.

Your father pretends you don't exist, just to play along with your little illusion.

You collect dead windowsill flies.

Whenever you listen to the radio, the music sounds backwards.

You have a predominant fear of fabric softener.

You wake up each morning and find yourself sitting on your head in the middle of your front lawn.

You tend to agree with everything your mother's dead uncle tells you.

You call up random people and ask if you can borrow their dog, just for a few minutes.

You argue with yourself about which is better: to be eaten by a koala or to be loved by an infectious disease.

You think thaqt exploding wouldn't be so bad, once you got used to it.

People offer you help, but you unfortunately interpret this as a violation of your rights as a boysenberry.

You try to make a list of Warning Signs of Insanity (cough).