A transplant will cancel plans to attend a football game when it’s 5 degrees and snowing outside.

A true Cheesehead will throw on every piece of clothing he owns and head to Lambeau field, risking hypothermia and frostbite to cheer on the Pack in the Frozen Tundra.

A Wisconsinite knows that a Kringle is the sweetest treat to eat with morning coffee.

A transplant isn’t quite sure what a Kringle is. Something related to Christmas?

A transplant thinks a time machine is an imaginary device that transports people through the space-time continuum.

A local knows that a TYME machine is just a place to get some cash.

A Wisconsinite throws on a pair of shorts at the first sign of spring, even if it’s only 40 degrees outside and there’s still a pile of half-melted snow next to the house.

A transplant will wait for more reasonable temperatures to show off her pale, sun-deprived legs.

A transplant will go to a sporting event and order a hot dog.

A Sconnie knows that the only respectable meat in a bun is a juicy bratwurst.

When asked to estimate distance, a transplant will tell you, “It’s about 30 miles from here.”

A Wisconsinite will say, “It’s about 45 minutes away.” All the other locals will know exactly what that means.

A transplant will go to McDonalds when craving a fast food burger.

Meanwhile, a local will be enjoying a butter burger at Culver’s with a side of fried cheese curds and a frozen custard for dessert.

A Wisconsinite will implicitly know what it means when a friend invites her “up north” for the weekend.

A transplant will ask, “Up North where?”

When ordering a beer, a transplant will think a New Glarus brew is just one of many local craft beers.

A local knows that New Glarus is the holy grail of Wisconsin beer and can’t be sold outside state lines. Minnesotans and FIBs regularly cross the border to stock up on this sweet nectar of the gods.

A transplant will immediately notice a Sconnie’s distinct accent.

A local will spend the first twenty years of her life thinking that the word “bag” is correctly pronounced like the beginning of the word “bagel”. Wisconsinites don’t have accents, you do!

A true Wisconsinite wouldn’t ever accept a Bloody Mary without a beer chaser…

…while a transplant wonders why the bartender just served him a teeny-tiny glass of beer he didn’t even order.

When a know-it-all transplant casually throws down, “You know, California actually leads the country in dairy production”, a local will loudly proclaim that Wisconsin will always be America’s Dairyland and clearly the state license plate proves it.

If the transplant learns just one lesson, it’s that Wisconsinites don’t mess around when it comes to cheese.

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