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After extensive testing of my symptoms by repeated Googling for “huge lumps neck cancer dying,” I’ve been self-diagnosed with a very rare tumor.

New Yorker cartoons: You love The New Yorker. You READ The New Yorker. But 9 times out of 10 you buy The New Yorker for those sweet, sweet cartoons.

Instead of saying “Yes, would you be available on Friday?”, I accidentally replied, “You’re a disgusting pig, your entire existence is meaningless.”

Despite his many attempts, your ex will never so much as FaceTime with Mia, because her iPhone “can’t take calls outside the Pacific Time Zone.”

Cheryl senses my sadness/frustration/anger/anything-cry-worthy-even-if-it’s-just-a-movie and will suddenly be on my doorstep with brownies in hand.

Many of you hare aware of the plumbing issue recently discovered in the sacristy toilet, a situation Father David referred to as “a test of faith.”

You kids have so much in common. He loves dogs, too. He just can’t be in the same room with them. He’s highly allergic. To everything.

I also have a picture of the two of us on my phone so you know exactly how similar we look.

I “loved” your announcement on Facebook, and left a comment about how excited I am for you. > I find your friendship exhausting.

I am the genetic material of two people who cut coupons, enjoy bird watching, and decorate their home with "live, laugh, love!" signs from TJ Maxx.

What’s the bigger crime: abducting a federal worker or letting someone live without riding Apollo’s Chariot, one of the Garden’s 8 coasters?

You sat in silence for 18 minutes after finding out your new barber was from Long Island, voted for Trump, and has amazing ideas for your stand-up.