You’re Not Really From New Hampshire Unless You’ve Complained About These 12 Things

Ah, New Hampshire—the Granite State, where the motto is Live Free or Die and the unofficial state sport is fiercely avoiding Massachusetts. Between the maple syrup pride, unpredictable weather, and roads designed by a drunk moose, Granite Staters have earned their right to grumble. If you haven’t complained about these classic New Hampshire quirks while navigating a roundabout in a snowstorm, are you even from here?

Massachusetts Drivers Crossing the Border Like It’s a Race

They come for tax-free shopping and leave chaos in their wake. Go home, Massholes.

Tourists Climbing Mount Washington in Flip-Flops

It’s a mountain, not a mall. And yes, people do die up there.

Having to Explain That We’re Not Vermont

Maple syrup, yes. Bernie Sanders, no.

The Weather Changing Every Hour

Morning frost, lunchtime sunburn, evening thunderstorm—it’s like Mother Nature’s running a simulation.

People Thinking You’re All Lumberjacks Living in Cabins

Some of us live in actual houses… with Wi-Fi. Shocking, we know.

Property Taxes That Could Fund a Small Country

No income tax, no sales tax, but don’t look at your property tax bill unless you’ve had a stiff drink.

Boston TV Stations Taking Over the News

Why am I hearing about a water main break in Dorchester when a moose just walked into my town hall?

The Roads Being Held Together by Hope and Potholes

“Scenic route” just means “your shocks are about to give up.”

The Outrageous Cost of a Lift Ticket

Sure, come ski! Just take out a second mortgage first.

No One Using Turn Signals, Ever

It’s a mystery. A code. A proud and reckless tradition.

Leaf Peepers Blocking Traffic Every Fall

Yes, the trees are pretty. Now move your rental car or prepare to meet Granite State road rage.

Everyone Assuming “Live Free or Die” Is Just a Slogan

It’s a lifestyle. And yes, it applies to fireworks, seatbelts, and most personal boundaries.

Sure, we Granite Staters love to complain—about taxes, tourists, and the weather that can’t make up its damn mind—but we wouldn’t trade our wild, rugged, maple-scented corner of the world for anything. Complaining here is just our version of small talk—served cold, sarcastic, and preferably around a fire pit with a locally brewed IPA.

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