- At any time of the day, a café con leche and 2 medialunas can be considered a square meal
- You can, at all times, find a heladería within 3 blocks
- You would much rather be a bostero xeneise than a maldita gallina, and you know what that means
- In your barrio, there are more people on the streets at 3 am than 3 pm
- ¿Qué sé yo?
- Nothing is good anymore, it’s “bárbaro”
- You have learned how to get across Avenida Libertador without getting run over, before the pedestrian light even turns green
- You have accepted the fact that you cannot successfully walk across 9 de Julio before the lights turn red, because everyone KNOWS it’s the widest avenue in the WORLD
- You can estafar, zafar, and continue to the farra with all the other porteños
- You have any idea what the last line means
- You complain about everything while in Buenos Aires, but as soon as you leave, you begin to miss it
- Upon getting into a taxi, instead of stating your destination, you give a series of turns and street names, entering into a battle of wits over who knows the grid best
- You generally communicate better in gestures than actually conversing
- You know the attractive women all over Palermo Hollywood are really men, but that’s OK
- Nothing is cool anymore, it’s re canchero. You and your friends, (who are all capos and copados, obvio) are re chochos because you just saw a recital that was piola.
- You have forgotten your name and now only answer to a string of epithets, such as che, maestro, flaco, papá, pibe, etc.
- You don’t coges el bus, you subís el bondi
- You don’t go out to comer, you morfar
- You have come to accept the fact that Buenos Aires sometimes huele a mar, even though it’s a five hour drive to the ocean
- You know that a disco is not a place to dance or a genre of music, but a place to buy food
- You eat sandwiches without crusts, pizza with a knife and fork and empanadas with your fingers
- You find yourself eating ñoquis on the 29th of each month, and not really knowing why
- You stay out till 6 am at a boliche but are still fresh as a daisy for your class at 9
- You mix ketchup and mayo, slather the beastly concoction on everything, and have the audacity to call it “salsa golf”
- You begin to wonder how Washington D.C. got off copying the obelisco, why London stole Buenos Aires’ phone booths and letter boxes, and why Milan’s La Scala operahouse had to steal the blueprints for Teatro Colón
- You don’t find it at all confusing that there are streets called Peña, Rodríguez Peña, Luis Saenz Peña and Roque Saenz Peña, all in fairly close proximity. Nor that there are an Yrigoyen and Irigoyen that intersect, despite their different spellings.
- You can get everything delivered to your departamento…from munchies to mariachis
- You consider it rude when you throw a party and people show up on time, while you are still making preparations, obvio…
- You can’t imagine drinking coffee without briskly following it with a shot glass of mineral water
- You know all the parts of a cow and you’re not a butcher or a veterinarian
- You have ever considered growing out a mullet
- You refer to everything outside the capital as the “interior” of the country
- You are a self-made expert on EVERYTHING
- Your favourite thing to do is fiaca, the special action of not doing anything
- You drink your mate amargo but eat dulce de leche on everything
- You realise that when there is a superclasico, everything halts for el fútbol
- You can find Evita’s grave blindfolded, and know that Carlos Gardel is buried in Chacarita, even though nobody knows for sure where he was born
- Your swear words include colourful descriptions of the birthing process and the private parts of a parrot
- Everything is a quilombo
- It seems normal that professional dog walkers are dragged around by up to 20 canines, and that there is a bus to cart dogs around the city to the parks