“The other morning,” says our submitter from Los Angeles, “my boyfriend found this typed (on an honest to goodness typewriter!) note left for him on his windshield.” (Another car on the block with out-of-state plates had a similar message.)

“We’re not sure if the WeHo suggestion was meant to be homophobic or to imply we should be hanging out with our pals Heidi and Spencer at Hyde. Since we are neither gay nor from the cast of the Hills, it’s hard to say.”

related: I’m gonna say this in the nicest way possible: don’t park in my spot.

Just in time for WTF? Friday…

Exhibit a) Posted on the front door of Ruth‘s apartment complex just outside Washington, D.C.

Exhibit b) From a parole liaison at the New Jersey Department of Corrections:

Exhibit c) From a vacation rental home in Maine, as spotted by Mike from Philadelphia, who adds, “I’m allergic to type set in Comic Sans.”

related: Screenbeans are never okay

Our anonymous submitter saw this notice up in Canada’s Yukon territory. “I always knew that dogs were a very important in the life of the Yukoners,” she says, by way of explanation…an explanation that, frustratingly, explains next to nothing about these people or their “visitors.”

Also, re: points #4 & 6 — my dog isn’t very good at coming when called, but he happens to love hanging out with “drug-using people.” (Lots of Cheetos crumbs and whatnot to lick off the floor.)

related: Your are welcome

CT and his friends were driving home from the beach when they stopped at a gas station in Luverne, Alabama and found this posted next to the men’s bathroom.

“The ‘Danger!’ sign below was apparently the first attempt to keep people from opening this door,” says CT. “God only knows what’s behind it. I’m assuming this door of unspeakable power continued to get opened, prompting the posting of the second sign.”

Hey, I feel your pain, gas station attendant, having to deal with so much stupidity all day long. But — with the help of Rachael in Portland — I think I’ve found someone else who can relate.

Allow me to introduce Lily. She’s 8.

related: An anonymous rant against anonymity

When someone starts hiding the formerly communal toilet paper, that’s typically the beginning of the end.

Exhibit a) From Liz in Brooklyn, New York: “My old roommate was a huge pain for a lot of reasons, but what really did it for me was when she would finish the roll of toilet paper and then hide the new roll in her room so only she could use it.” Before moving out, Liz left her roomie with this parting gift.

Exhibit b) From BK in Kansas City, Missouri: “My roommate wanted us to buy separate toilet paper because he thought I used a lot, which seemed kind of ridiculous to me. Then, when he ran out of toilet paper he would use mine. I took my toilet paper out of the bathroom so he couldn’t use it anymore. Then he wrote me a passive aggressive note saying I was passive-aggressive.”

Exhibit c) From LJ at Mississipi State University: “I have no idea why my roommate felt the need to hide the toilet paper  — it wasn’t like I was using it *excessively* or anything. A few days after this happened, we had to have a meeting mediated by the Residence Director, because they were pretty sure we were going to kill each other.”

related: I’m not here to wipe your dirty butt.

Five approaches to toilet paper maintenance

According to reports we’re receiving here at PAN headquarters, it appears that proletarians with a predilection for the chocolate-cookie-caramel confection known as Twix are battling Soviet-like conditions in order to procure their precious candy bars. 

In some areas, workers are forced to pay a hefty premium (unlike the bosses and bigwigs upstairs). 

Even then, what remains for the masses is likely to be rejected, bottom-of-the-carton stock.

And in the hardest hit areas, shortages have led hungry Twix lovers to beg for mercy from The Man himself. 

(Thanks to informants Sean in Philadelphia, Rachel in Salt Lake City, and Mark in Buffalo.)

related: Comrades, take notice!

extra credit: Twix bars unfairly taxed in Colorado? [WSJ.com]