People think you’re Chinese no matter what part of Asia you are truly from.

People think you know their Chinese friend who lives in Baltimore.

Your family always cheers for the Asian contestant on TV.

You will get carded until you’re 50 years old.

Your parents enjoy comparing you to their friends’ kids.

Your non-Asian friends ask you how to curse in your language.

You have sticks, leaves, and strange smelling stuff in your medicine cabinet.

You mostly listen to rap, dance, or techno music/songs.

Your parents own a store or a restaurant.

Your mom has a short, curly perm.

Your dad is some kind of engineer.

You can shop at 99 Ranch without being stared at.

You’ve eaten parts of animals they won’t even put in hot dogs.

You got nothing when you did well in school, but you got punished for a B.

Being Asian automatically guarantees someone a leg up with your parents.

Your dad has the same haircut he had when he was a child.

You’ve seen lots of karaoke videos with amazingly bad actresses in them.

You have a bucket full of rice, a box of ramen packages, and unmarked plastic bags of unidentifiable teas in in your pantry.

Your dad wears the tube socks with the stripes.

All your little girl relatives have the same hair style.

You were taller than your parents once you reached puberty.

You feel a twinge of guilt wearing shoes in someone’s house.

You have Asian doctors/dentists/dog walkers/mortgage agents/accountants/hair stylists, etc.

You can speak your language, but not write it.

You can easily use your friend’s ID to get into a club.

You keep a little cup or bucket for water next to the toilet, all the time.

You hang on to the illusion that your race is superior to all other Asians.

Today’s steamed rice is tomorrow’s fried rice.

You’re slightly-to-deathly afraid of black people.

You don’t mind watching pirated movies with extremely poor picture quality.

You own a multicolored polyester patchwork quilt.

You know what Tiger Balm is, and believe in it.

Whenever you’re with more than three people, it takes an hour to decide where to eat. You fight fiercely for the check after dinner.

You’ve hidden money in the pocket of the person who paid for dinner.

You use the “finger method” to measure the water for your rice cooker.

You think nothing of eating rice with your spaghetti.

Milk makes you queasy and alcohol turns you completely red.

You have a good luck charm hanging in your car.

You socialize in groups of eight or more people.

You’ve heard your name pronounced a half-dozen different ways, all wrong.

You’ve heated a dried squid over an open flame.