More signs...

No matter what you eat or when you eat it, or what medicine you take before or after you eat it, your body suddenly becomes an orchestra.

You’ve become an expert on other peoples’ flaws e.g. that fat bitch at the counter, that stupid asshole in front of me, that obnoxious piece of shit at the next table, that superficial whore on the phone, etc

Girls – you have a new look… it’s called “Flu.”
Guys – your look is called “Unibomber.”
“Flu” and “Unibomber” are this summer’s “black,” among law students, and the only way you can be cooler is to be “flu-ier” or “Unibomb-ier.”

You have acne in places you didn’t even know you had pores.

You can save your page in your PMBR book with the hair that’s fallen out of your head.

A good day is a day with no notable indigestive problems.

You experience symptoms now, that you’ve only heard your grandparents speaking of at family gatherings, so that gatherings with your bar exam friends sound like the scene in “Christmas Vacation” when the grandparents show up e.g. “They took a pint of fluid outta my back,” and “I have hemorrhoids.”

“Bar exam friends” is an acceptable and recognized social class to you, and at least relative to your non-bar friends, your bar friends have executive privileges.

Two Words: Elastic Waistband (I think there's a little more dignity in the Letterman format than the Foxworthy one, don't you?)

Somebody you know who is not studying for the bar recently accused you of being inattentive, rude, or insensitive with regards to others but over-sensitive with regards to yourself, and it took every ounce of self restraint not to rip his fucking head off, shit down his neck, and fuck his skull.

You are inattentive, rude, and insensitive with regards to others but over-sensitive with regards to yourself.

You overhear somebody talking about a newspaper article about a local man awarded a medal of honor for some heroic feat, for example, in Iraq. You think you deserve similar recognition for the lifestyle you’ve led this summer. You imagine that such an article about you would read “A local man has not showered in 3 days or shaved in 2 weeks. Last night for dinner he had peanut butter from the jar with his last plastic spoon. He ran out of toothpaste yesterday, but refusing to leave his desk, he insists he will use mouthwash only until the 29th. Calls to his cell phone were not returned.” Which leads me to...

For the last week, you've been out of something that you ordinarily use everyday, like laundry detergent, milk, deodorant, clean underwear, or MONEY MONEY MONEY.

Faced with the option of catching up with an old friend, or clicking over to Girl Walks Into A Bar, you decide your friend has waited this long; he can wait another week.

You honestly think that this, this, this, this, this, this, this, this, or this is even remotely funny. Seriously... in a week, I won't be able to pay my best friends to read anything that I have to say.

You and your friends quote Rob, the ex-semi-pro athlete who loves cats and believes that mental sit-ups are as important as regular sit-ups, like he’s Will Ferrell in Old School.