Well…lots of stuff.

And yet, somehow, the employees at this office in Edmonton still can’t quite make TP happen. (Maybe wrestling grizzlies is more their forte?)

Perhaps a visual aid (like this one from a Los Angeles apartment share) would be helpful?

Or maybe just a bit more encouragement would push someone over the edge?

(Probably not, though.)

related: Five approaches to TP maintenance

Why this sign isn’t pictured in the   Tourist guide to Shelter Island, I have no idea.

(Thanks to Laurie’s Aunt Sylvia for snapping the picture!)

related: How’s that for a low price guarantee?

Upon moving into their new college house this fall, Danny and his roommates at Boston College received this delightfully punctuated welcome letter from their next door neighbor — delivered via U.S. Postal Service, no less.

I, for one, can’t wait ’til the Ben Affleck adaptation comes out. We’ll have a “late night beer party” to celebrate!

related: Passive voice abuse

I’d nominate all three of these for inclusion in the encyclopedia entry for “petty office debates.”

Exhibit a) From  San Francisco:

Exhibit b) From Jeron in Dallas:

Exhibit c) From Monterey, California:

related: Completely valid rebuttals

“My housemate sometimes gets paranoid that people like to watch us going about our day-to-day lives in our apartment,” says Elizabeth in Australia. And yet, instead of, say, window coverings, this note was how she decided to deal with the problem:

related: Stop looking in our window, pervert!

Monica in Iowa City, do-gooder that she is, volunteers with a friendly visiting program at the local senior living center. And while Monica’s no stranger to old folks and their antics, even she was struck by the sight of this heartbreakingly despondent note on one resident’s door.

I couldn’t help but think of poor Snowman, the ill-fated pony from the German petting zoo (and as I see it, kindred spirit to this old lady in Iowa). I picture them kvetching together in heaven someday, asking “Why? Why? Why?” for all eternity.

related: The zen koan of a Jewish grandmother

“I guess I’m a bad parker,” says Renee in San Antonio — but really, how bad does a parking job have to be to inspire this kind of blind rage? Especially when the scene of the crime is the parking lot outside a big box store like Best Buy, not some precious residential block.

P.S. If you’re thinking “PMS bad,” next time I escape from the kitchen, I might have to give you a barefoot kick to the crotch.

related: When parking gets political

“Perhaps I was a bit too particular about what I wanted when I ordered my salad at lunch,” admits Daniel in Seattle. “I found this when I pulled it out of my bag back at the office.”

And from the Athens, Ohio Dept. of Disgruntled Baristas…

related: Have it your way, jerk