You know you're an Indy freak (the best kind) when...
You work out by crouching slightly, yelling "KNEEL!" and rolling headfirst in a perfect imitation of Indy's escape from "The Breath of God." (SO guilty of this one... it's pretty much the only exercise I ever do of my own free will, but it works rather well.)
When forced to run, imagining yourself as Indy fleeing the Hovitos around a school track helps (a lot).
You plan on naming my puppy Short Round and calling him Shorty.
Your first daughter's name is going to be Marion (spelled with an "o"). I've actually always liked the name Marion, but seeing Ravenwood was the clincher and my future husband will just have to deal with it.
You periodically get into debates with your friend about how much Indy trumps MacGyver (and you know you're right no matter what).
You buy several Snickers bars and M&Ms just for the packages (but cheerfully discover that the Snickers have coconut...mmmm.... and that the M&Ms have cool Indy-tastic designs).
You are going to BE Marion Ravenwood at the midnight showing on May 21.
You notice that the school librarian is drinking Dr. Pepper and her soda can has Indiana Jones on it... you beg her to drink the rest, then swipe the can while she's not looking. (Oops... If you're reading this, Ms. Messenger, then I'm sorry. Couldn't resist.)
You can recite the whole trilogy on demand and have amused yourself during standardized tests by writing out the scripts, character analyses, and soundtrack titles for ALL the Indy films.
You greet your little brother with "Junior? Is that you?"
You accidentally broke Mom's vase, but then refused to let her clean it up until you identified the cross-sections.
You tend to lapse into Elsa's Austrian accent or Henry's Scottish one without even noticing.
Whenever someone says "Giddy as a schoolboy," you immediently launch on a tirade about Attilla the Professor.
You're wary about stepping in puddles of light without waving your hand first.
You actually want to learn Latin to see if all "J"s really start with an "I".
When your history teacher absentmindedly (and unwisely) hums Indy's theme song, you jump out of your chair and start grilling him on his favorite/least favorite parts, characters, etc. until he never wants to teach you history again because you are constantly bringing up Nepal, and Hatay, and Ankara, and Berlin, and Shanghai, and, and, and....
And, best of all...
You belong to the Raven, and you're a total and complete Indiana Jones freak (which is the best kind of freak).