Flying freaks you out, because you know you’ll test positive for GSR (if that’s what they are swabbing for), find a magazine or cartridges in your bag, or maybe the Ruger LCP you misplaced.
At a traffic stop, the officer asks how many guns are in the car, not if.
What others call an arsenal, you simply call a collection. Or fun weekend.
You have no idea how many guns you own.
You get offended when somebody asks how many guns you own.
You scoff when somebody calls several hundred rounds “a lot of ammo”.
When your toddler hears thunder she just thinks you are shooting out in the backyard again.
Your wife keeps a bucket in the laundry room to put all the brass casings that fall out of your pockets in the wash.
Your kids don’t bat an eye when you walk through the living room with 3 ARs and 2 dozen magazines.
You can’t find some guns because you forgot which safe you put them in.
Your PayPal account gets frozen for using it to buy gun parts or ammo.
Someone breaks in the house and you can’t decide which gun to grab.
Your kids have been suspended from school for eating a pop tart into a pistol, wearing an NRA t-shirt, or imaginarily shooting doves in the playground.
Siri automatically tells you where local gun shops are when you are traveling.
The only think you can remember from Jurassic Park was the Franchi SPAS 12 Shotgun.
Gunbroker and IMDFB are your browser home pages.
You can never use your tripod for cameras because you always leave the top piece mounted to your chronograph.
You know the difference between a “clip” and a “magazine” and get offended when it’s improperly used.
Top dresser drawer is holster drawer.
You watch a stock ticker and see gun calibers.
The question is never if you have a gun on you, but how many?
While at an amusement park, the cowboys start to act out a gunfight and your hand automatically reaches for your sidearm (which isn’t there anyhow).
You can always play “Guess how many casings are in my pocket?” with your friends.
Your phone autocorrects “fun” to “gun” and “clock” to “Glock”.