Or a classy porn magazine.

Today’s example:

A list of plausible reasons why my former college professor may have decided to de-friend me on Facebook.

The next inevitable installment:

Uncomfortable e-mails sent by a college professor to his former student to explain his decision to de-friend her on Facebook, sent only after he realizes that she blogged about the incident.

A hand-decorated mix CD that kicks off with the Mariah Carey song, “Hero.”

Likewise, if track two is “Chuck” by Harry Pussy, she’s yours for life.

Even if your spirit animal is an Eagle, you would have been ODB in the Wu Tang Clan, your top five favorite albums all feature the musical stylings of Scott Stapp, your celebrity boyfriend is Will Smith, you can’t leave home with your zombie killing spray, you’re Bumbledore in the Harry Potter series, and you’re currently “is drinking absinthe off the bosom of a most hospitable woman in a most inhospitable unnamed nation.”

Okay, maybe I’m interested in hearing about that last thing.

Watching white people injure themselves is funny.

(Also, the undying legacy of Bob Saget.)

For no matter how hard it dreams, it will never be a stop sign.

For they provide a clear line of demarcation between douchebags and the rest of the world.

But they should have. They really, really should have.

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Okay, maybe not.