Writes Catherine in Melbourne: “I was preparing breakfast in the office kitchen when I opened the fridge and reached for the margarine tub to butter my toast. Ten seconds later, I was fearing for my life.”
Several months ago, Kenney in Sydney moved in with some new housemates. Last week, he happened to park in a different spot in the driveway. (“We had been asked to not park in the garage as it was used as a gym/personal trainer studio.”)
“The next morning,” he says, “I found this ‘anonymous’ note — despite having just talked with the person responsible, without any mention of their concern.” By way of a response, Kenney decided to give the note the red pen treatment.
Despite what her neighbor would have you believe, Mim in Adelaide, Australia says she doesn’t actually just toss her trash into the street. In this case, she simply put out hard rubbish our for collection a few days earlier than suited the residents of 59 Windsor.
Mim says this note is just the latest installment in an ongoing litany of complaints, which “always come with the multi-coloured swirly script and hearts. They crack me up every time!”
Writes Mrs. McMahon in Melbourne, Australia: “One of the students in my class decided to make a a big card for World Teachers Day and have it signed by all her peers in our grade. When I read this message, I could not stop laughing.”
Writes our submitter: “Last year Zaky changed the date of his birthday on Facebook just to test if anyone actually knew his real birthday. Nobody did, probably because he pulls crappy mind games like this. He did it again this year and it still didn’t work.”
I think Melissa (below) probably said it best: “Whatever, Zaky, as if anyone actually cares when your birthday is?”
Kate in Melbourne caught a glimpse of this note from the street, and it looked so ridiculous that she snuck into the private lot to get a closer look. Adds Kate: “I imagine this person is quite popular with the neighbours.”
(By the way, Kate apologizes for the poor resolution of the photos; she only had her mobile phone with her at the time.)
Relentless exposure to awful puns hasn’t yet been explicitly singled out as a form of torture, but employees at this office in Australia might be able to make the case that it qualifies as “extreme mental distress.”
Apparently the strategy here was that for every day the kitchen’s cutlery situation went unresolved, up went another note — with progressively groan-worthy puns each time. (It took until “Spatchalator” for someone to cry uncle.)
Why do I have a sneaking suspicion that they wouldn't have left their insurance information on my car, either, even though it's a Prius? "That's what you get for driving a car that takes jobs away from hard-working oil and gas workers and causes deadly smug"?