Dan in Melbourne says he saw this sign while riding along a North Fitzroy bike path, which runs parallel to a park. Says Dan: “Now, I’ve owned a dog and I know how they like to roll in stinky things, but this it taking it to a new, super gross level.”

More gross than your dog rolling in/eating some other dog’s shit? Or stepping in a fresh pile of it yourself? I’m not sure I’m convinced. (Not that humans should be exempt from proper poop-scooping etiquette, of course.)

Personally, I’d like to imagine this as a triumphant act of payback on the part of a score-settling colon cancer survivor. (“This is for all the times I’ve stepped in your dogs’ crap. Enjoy!!”)

related: Do you want a doggy bag?

“This note magically appeared one day in our letter box late last year from an obviously unhappy neighbour,” says Anthony in Melbourne, Australia. “To this day we still don’t know the cat-hater, the cat owner, or the cat.”

related: Don’t feed the cat (or the trolls)

Failed strategies in bicycle theft deterrence:

1. Assuming the thief who stole your bike is schooled in Italian neorealism; appealing to said thief’s desire to be one of the cool kids.

2. Feigning empathy for said thief.

3. Chiding said thief for his stupidity via a barely legible run-on sentence without double-checking “you’re” grammar first.

(Grazie mille to Nadia in Melbourne, Chris in Amsterdam, and Tom in London for submitting!)

related: No, Daddy, I asked for a Wii!

Because it’s Monday and you’re so thrilled to be back at work, I thought it was as appropriate a time as any to bring you these gems from the Columbia, Kentucky and Melbourne, Australia campuses, respectively, of the University of What The Fuck.

(And commenters, please note the enormous exercise of restraint demonstrated by the lack of “anal-retentive” punning in this post’s subject line.)

related: If you needed an excuse to skip the gym today

extra credit: Waste management [youtube]

…well, you know how it goes.

Meanwhile, in Melbourne…

And in London…

…a saucy variation on a much-photographed placard from London’s Soho:

But my favorite sign was spotted by Nick at a backpacker’s hostel in Rio:

related: The whore of West Babylon

Meric spotted this sign in melbourne while going to the launderette a few doors down. The bizarre thing, says Meric, is that it’s in a shop window. “I have no idea what kind of dastardly person would steal poor Dave’s bananas, but every time I walked past it I laughed so much a little bit of wet came out.”

Meric adds, “I left Australia in August, so I’m not sure if it’s still there. But these pictures were taken in June on Nicholson Street, Carlton North, Melbourne if anyone from around there would like to check up and see.” P-A detective squad, Melbourne bureau: consider yourselves on the case.

Meanwhile, Sarah in Alexandria says she faced a similar disappearing Coke problem at her office. “At first I tried keeping them all in the box with a large note on the outside opening with my name on it. Apparently that wasn’t enough because cans were still ending up missing, so I added to the note ‘please do not drink’ because maybe someone thought I was leaving my name there so that they would know who to thank (or not to thank, rather) for the free Cokes. Cans were still being taken though, so I decided to resort to the only tactic I have ever known to work on assholes who have no regard whatsoever for others: I threatened their own well-being.”

Adds Sarah, “I actually did lick the cans too, and I was genuinely sick. After that note, I was able to enjoy my Cokes without having to worry. The only person who this tactic has yet to work on is my dad.”