If you’ve ever stampeded cattle through the Vatican, you might be kinky.
If you fall asleep wearing a posture collar and don’t notice until you start to shampoo your hair in the shower the next morning, you might be kinky.
If you fervently wish Marvin the Martian really existed because that would mean you might be able to get a real Straitjacket-Ejecting Bazooka, you might be kinky.
If you just nodded approvingly at the correct spelling of “straitjacket,” you might be kinky.
If you read a National Geographic article about marine biology and see the term “whale sounding,” and the first thing you think is where in the world you could get sounds that big, you might be kinky.
If you shop at a tack store and you don’t own a horse, you might be kinky.
If you’re not a font designer and you know the definition of the term “ligature,” you might be kinky.
If you get furious at the movies when the damsel in distress can’t escape from wrist shackles that are big enough to stick her head through, you might be kinky.
When you’re watching movies like Braveheart or Glory, and you have to keep reminding yourself the person being tortured doesn’t have a safeword, you might be kinky.
If you’re walking past a TV at Wal-Mart, and it’s showing a music video with a woman in a latex catsuit, and an old lady walks by and remarks, “How do they get INTO those outfits?” and you say, “Baby powder,” without thinking about it, you might be kinky.
If you’re getting a physical and the doctor pulls out a Wartenberg wheel and you say, “Mine’s bigger!”, you might be kinky.
If you’re actually able to argue about the relative merits of handcuff brands, you might be kinky.
If you go to the store for ginger, but it’s not for cooking, you might be kinky
If you giggle when someone abbreviates Cognitive Behavior Therapy, you might be kinky.
If you fall asleep in ballet boots and only notice because they start catching on your blanket, you might be kinky.
If you can’t look at a candle without giggling, you might be kinky.