2649: You further justify it by telling yourself you chose speed over size.
2652: You further justify it because it takes the least amount of memory to operate as well, so it's all around the best bet.
2651 You can just glance at a hexadecimal code and tell what the sprite would look like.
2653: You visualize sprites as hex code.
2654: Heck, your idea of an image is a series of numbers and letters between A and F.
2654a: You work at Microsoft and it's actually a series of numbers and letters
between A and H.
2655: Your mother is a lobster.
2656: Any time someone suggests flipping a coin/rock-paper-scissors/rolling a die/etc. you pull out your calculator.
2657: Any time someone suggests something you pull out your calculator.
2657a: You never pull out your calculator because you think it's an indecent act.
2658: Your brain is a graphing calculator emulator.
2658a: Your graphing calculator is a brain emulator.
2659: You don't have a girlfriend/boyfriend/etc. because you already mentally married your calculator and now you can't be satisfied with any human being.
2660: You subconsciously inserted the word "other" between "any" and "human" in #2659.
2661: You feel guilt from mentally cheating on your imaginary wife/husband with your other calculator.
2662: You know a palindrome before you see it.
2663: You know a prime number before you see it.
2664: Your calculator is in all your family photos.
2665: You sometimes aren't.
2666: At some point in your life you've tried incessantly to convince someone to stop using IFE.
2667: Your suggestion was Gossamer.
2626: You've banned more than 6 spambots in a day.
2668: You've banned more than a hundred. (Props to Xeda.)
2669: You have a live-stream to capture your calculator's everyday antics.
2670: You got your calculator pregnant.
2671: You can't remember the last time you used the 2nd button as anything but a weapon trigger/jump command.
2671a: You know exactly when it was, down to the second.
2672: Your calculator walked into a bar.
2673: You've spent enough money on graphing calculators to feed a small, malnourished country for a year.
2674: You never use words more than sixteen letters long.
2675: Your limits approach 1
E100.
2676: You rinse your hands in holy water and cleanse them with a fire before operating your calculator.
2677: People you don't know think you have a gun and panic when they see you pulling a dark, blunt object out of your pocket.
2678: You did it on purpose.
2679: You can hear (and recognize) the sound of a calculator dropping to the ground from a mile away.
2680: You recoil in pain.
2611: You now worship a rubber duck and ask him all your questions.
2681: You gasp in abhorrence at this ghastly irreverence toward the Calculator.
