AN: this is the list of all the band statements to see if you've been in band too long. The stories will be out of order.

I found these on the internet. I don't really own the quirks and jokes. Just the stories based off of them. Enjoy!

You Know You've Been in Band too Long When

You start sleeping with your instrument.

You have to take out your dentures to play.

You can identify yourself in a band picture.

Your career is baby-sitting the director's kids.

The sole of your band shoe falls off during a parade.

The director starts to sing well.

You consider your drill charts a fashion accessory.

You can eat Chinese food with your drumsticks.

Someone hands you a piece of paper and the first thing you do with it is roll it up and put it in your pocket.

The choice is not regular or diet, but woodwind or brass.

You shake your head and your lips follow three seconds later.

You know everyone else's part.

Dinner conversation is focused around new music or drill charts.

You start listening to band music all day.

Being mauled by a drum is a normal part of life.

The saxes sound like they're improving.

The flutes are in tune.

You can play up to tempo on YOUR instrument.

You walk with a roll step.

People worry when they see you without your instrument.

You start using band jokes on people outside the band.

Your instrument begins to grow hair.

"Armed guard" means a girl with a pole instead of a man with a gun.

The worst four-letter word you can think of is B-A-N-D.

You know how many ceiling tiles there are from waiting for the trumpets to learn their parts.

You know how many sound panels there are from waiting for the drummers to GET their parts.

You pivot on every corner.

The band goes on a road trip and no buses break down.

Someone says "block" and you immediately drop whatever you are doing and go running off somewhere.

You beg the director for extra early morning rehearsals.

You can dress in 15 seconds.

Back marching no longer reminds you of ballet.

Instead of political campaigns or soap operas, you follow section intrigue.

You can sing your part to a show more than three years old.

You start criticizing the bands on televised parades.

The flutes are in tune.

You wear your uniform to any concert even though you are not in it.

Your band shoes no longer hurt.

You try to teach your three-month-old sister to play the flute.

You feel homicidal towards a rookie who says, "Oh, goodie! Another parade!"

You name your kids Mark and Time.

Your teachers excuse your mistakes with, "It's all right, the poor thing's in band."

The band is in step.

Drummers respect percussionists.

You call your wife/husband to say you'll be late because of band practice.

Marking time is your favorite form of exercise.

Your instrument/hat/uniform has a name and personality all its own.

Anything on this list makes sense.

Cold hot dogs, warm Coke and stale popcorn are gourmet meals.

You consider being a band director.

The flutes are in tune.

You are going around a corner with a group of friends and you think, "Don't swing out!"

Numbers past 8 don't matter.

You hope the football team loses so you won't have to go to the playoffs.

Duct tape is an essential part of your instrument/uniform.

You can make brown shoes look white.

A line that's supposed to be straight is straight. (rather than beautifully curved)

You can sleep through drumline sectionals.

You have a neckstrap/drum harness tan line. (And don't consider it strange.)

Letters past G don't matter.

The sideline and the band are in tune.

There's a straight diagonal anywhere on the field.

You subconsciously start practicing fingerings on a pencil.

You consider moving into the band room.

You roll-step to avoid spilling food.

You sing drum cadences while walking to class.

Everyone but you knows what happened on your date.

All your friends make band jokes.

Slides no longer make your back ache.

You come home from rehearsal and your mother/roommate says, "You look familiar."

Your pants fall off and you keep going like nothing happened.

Everyone wants to kill the other football team... and you want to kill the other band.

You accidentally call the director "Dad".

You show up fifteen minutes early for everything.

You hear music and you start marking time.

You actually CAN sight-read.

You walk behind someone and are in step with them.

A bus seat is as comfortable as your bed.

You've dated every member of the opposite sex in the band.

You've had a trombone-related head injury.

Your buses are named. (ie "Command Central, Drum Bus, Tuba Bus, Shako Bus, Rude Bus, Library Bus, Tweetle Bus, G Bus...)

The drumline can read music.

The worst torture implements you can think of are trumpets and piccolos.

There's a stand in the bandroom that ISN'T broken.

You regard tuba players as a separate species.

You point out key changes and dynamics on the radio.

People ask you about your social life and you say, "You mean my flute/trumpet/tuba/drum/etc.?"

You can guide off reflections in your bell.

You think your plume is alive. ("The chicken is attacking me! AAAAHHH!")

You've ever been able to hear a soloist.

You can count by eight as easily as by ten.

You can remember your music in the middle of an exam, but can't remember what class you're in.

The trumpets make it through a show without ad-libbing.

The sideline and the band agree on the tempo.

You actually have all of pregame memorized.

Reeds taste good.

You start coming up with new words to fight songs, both your own and other people's.

The buses leave on time.

The pit gets their equipment on the field or put away in less than half an hour.

The director's jokes are funny.

Trombones realize there's more to dynamics than ON and OFF.

The buses get home on time.

You give a drummer four steps of clearance even when he's not carrying his drum.

You start adding stuff to this list.