With the advent of Spotify, the little box on Facebook that tells me exactly what's going on with everyone all the time exploded with song titles of coolness I can't begin to calculate. This marked a profound realization: There is some information I will never willingly share with the world. I may tell you about my bad moods, gynecological issues, the dog, and my uncomfortable attraction to a man I will never meet. (HI, RYAN!) But you will never know what I listen to. I consider it a public service. Here's why.

What Would Happen To Your Facebook Page If I Told It What Was Happening In My Ears

Amber is listening to a crappy song.

Amber is listening to another crappy song.

Apparently once wasn't enough, because Amber is listening to that first crappy song again.

Amber looooves her crappy songs.

Amber is listening to a slightly less crappy song.

Hey, look! Amber chose a good song.

Feel proud of Amber. She is growing.

Amber is listening to another good song. Good for Amber.

Now, she's listening to...whale mating calls?

Followed by something no one's listened to since 1997.

Amber is listening to another crappy song.

One by one, Amber's friends are threatening to disown her if she plays this song anywhere in their zip code.

Amber is listening to classical music because she likes the cannons.

Yes, the 1812 Overture has cannons. Because Tchaikovsky was a bad-ass.

Amber is listening to another crappy song.

Facebook feels compelled to inform Amber that once someone is past the age of 30, they're not supposed to listen music by anyone who spells their name with a dollar sign. A dollar sign is not a letter.

Amber has obviously been scarred by roadtrips in her youth, when her mother listened to nothing but the soundtrack to Oklahoma!

Yes, there's an exclamation point in Oklahoma!

Amber has left her computer to dance around the room like an overly-caffeinated muppet. There might be a dollar sign masquerading as a letter involved.

Sorry, Facebook friends with good taste.