Two words: Team Fletcher!

related: Facebook is for frenemies

First off, hat tip to the cranky guerilla artist who plastered the bus stops at Rachel’s college campus yesterday with these posters.

(Of course, like the good citizen and PAN-ista that she is, Rachel promptly snapped and sent this pic to us using her BlackBerry.)

But speaking of art on campus…how’s that for a segue? —  I can’t look at this piece from Matt’s dorm in Reno without hearing it as a Daft Punk song. (That’s probably thanks to far too much time spent playing around with iDaft…time which I do not regret one bit.)

Okay everyone, let’s get this riot started. Go text this post to all your friends!

related: Daft Flush

extra credit:  iDaft: une vidéo funny [dailymotion.com];

Daft Hands [youtube.com]

Hannah spotted this gem above the sink of dirty dishes in her San Francisco office.

related: May the sanctity of the sink prevail!!

When my younger brother Danny was around 6 or 7, I remember he brought home a project he’d done in school — a little book entitled “My Family,” or something like that. I don’t recall what he said about the rest of us, but on the page about our mother, he had written: “MOM BRINGS DINNER,” complete with a stick-figure drawing of her with McDonald’s bags in both hands. We all laughed about it, but I think my mother was still pretty mortified —  and god only knows what his teacher thought.

Well, Mom, allow me to introduce you to Carmen: you two might be able to commiserate. When her son (who is, coincidentally, also named Daniel) was 6, his first grade teacher had the kids write little journal entries about their weekends every Monday. This was Daniel’s. (The teacher’s feedback is my favorite part.)

Carmen is quick to add that she was most definitely not “drunk” — in fact, on this particular occasion, she hadn’t had a single alcoholic beverage. But just try explaining that to the school guidance counselor…

related: Just in case you haven’t gotten your fix of working mom guilt…your kid’s preschool teacher is ready to step up!

extra credit: Red Party Cups for Classy Moms

Vanessa in Baton Rouge can vouch that that the state of her friend Charles’s bathroom and boudoir is “perpetually dirty.” Oddly, though, “of all the times I’ve been over to Charles’ apartment with his girlfriend, I’ve never, ever seen his roommate.”

(Which makes me wonder…could this note from Charles’s “roomie” actually have been written by said girlfriend? I’m not sure which scenario would be more passive-aggressive.)

First off: I’m 100% in favor of breastfeeding. A designated pumping room at the office? Awesome! (And in fact, federally mandated.) Pictures of cute babies? Love those, too!

But you know — and let’s just play devil’s advocate here for a moment —  I’m guessing some of the non-lactating folks you work with would be a bit more receptive to your message if you saved the guilt-tripping for your kiddos back home. Because, as the sign reads now, says one of your coworkers: “All it does is make me want to use THAT room for every phone call.”

related: Feel free to starve me, but not my baby!!!

Many months ago, one of our submitter’s coworkers decided to fortify the entire office freezer with family-sized bricks of monosodium glutamate.

(Was there an amazing “buy 20, get one free” special at Wal-Mart? Is someone filming a processed-foods version of Super Size Me? Or just stocking up for the End Times?) Whatever the reason, this person made very clear (via post-it note) that these frozen delights were not for general consumption, thanks.

Finally, after months had gone by with no obvious signs of attrition on the Banquet line, another coworker decided to add a defiant note of protest (which in turn spurred a third note, from the office smartass.) Sadly, the real question (FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS FROZEN — WHY????) remains unanswered.

related: Please remove the rabbit carcasses from this freezer

Need to borrow a cup of sugar? How about five pounds of dog poop? Well heck, that’s what neighbors are for!

related: Do you want a doggy bag for those leftovers, sir?

extra credit: The perfect leash for dog haters/sociopaths