You See Psychedelic Flowers When You Close Your Eyes to Go to Sleep

You see psychedelic flowers when you close your eyes to go to sleep.

Before you have a conversation with someone, you kindly ask them if they'd like to accept a chat request.

You consider sleeping your "N/A" mode.

You hear little voices in your head constantly saying "uh-oh".

You have over 500 buddies on your contact list.

You've had long conversations with all 500 of those buddies.

You begin to think names like "Tom" and "Jane" are strange, but names like "Snakeman" and "Tigger" are common.

Your friend introduces you to a new person, and you immediately ask them if you can add them to your "contact list".

Since downloading ICQ, you've learned to speak 7 new languages, including Ukranian and the dialect of a small native community in Peru.

To you, ICQ isn't just a program, it's a "gift to mankind".

Your idea of a "wild time" is inviting all of your online friends into one giant chatroom.

The last time you signed off ICQ was during the George Bush administration.

Every time a new version or update of ICQ is released, you have your own celebration party, complete with cake, party favors, and champagne.

Your dog leaves you due to lack of attention, despite your efforts to appease him by giving him his own ICQ number.

Your one pride in life has become your immense contact list, and you ask all your friends to send over their contacts to make it even bigger.

You name your first child "Mirabilis" and tell all your friends that it was because you "liked how it sounded".

You have carefully allotted your time during work/school lunch breaks: 32 minutes to check and respond to ICQ messages, 3 minutes to eat.

Your spouse is insanely jealous of the computer and refers to it only as your "sugar daddy".

You constantly yearn to have the ability to employ an "invisible list" in real life. You even go so far as to physically try to right click people to add them. (It didn't work.)

You've taken experimental drugs to grow a third arm, which might help increase your speed in replying to messages. Unfortunately, it made you grow a third nostril.

Your typing speed has continuously progressed after thousands of ICQ chats... to a record of 249 words per minute.

You leave an indent in your chair after your usual 8 straight hours of "ICQ'ing". You're cat got stuck in this crater you created.

You can't remember when the last time was that you ate a meal anywhere other than in front of the computer.

You can't remember when the last time was that you ate a meal. You've written repeated letters to the government requesting that your social security number be changed to your ICQ number. Your last one included a death threat.

You wake up at 3 a.m. and have to use the bathroom, and after you finish, you take a quick swing by the computer to check for messages...You find over 300 waiting for you.

You've had over 100 contacts online at one time.

You held detailed conversations with all 100...simultaneously.

You've created a shrine of worship to the makers of ICQ. You claim to be their "biggest fan" and have provoked fights with others who have claimed the same title.

You've asked your "real life" friends to refer to you by your ICQ nickname. You immediately broke off the friendship with anyone that refused, citing "unresolvable differences" as the reason why.

You refer to the period of your life before you downloaded ICQ as the "pre-ICQ era". Back then you went outside of your house.

Your love life consists of sending "love notes" and the occassional steamy chat.

You've tried to convince your grandparents or older parents to get ICQ because talking on the phone is "old fashioned". They asked if a "computer" is a new kind of calculator.

You suffer severe bouts of depression every time you see someone sign offline.

Your internet phone bill matches your ICQ number.

You make not one, but two web pages about signs of being addicted to ICQ.