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?”

related: It’s my pity party and I’ll whine if I want to

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.)

related: Dear self-appointed parking cop: please direct your anger and self-righteousness elsewhere.

extra credit: This kid parallel parks better than I do [youtube]

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.)

related: This vending machine doesn’t work…it just sits around collecting unemployment.

This physics lesson was posted in the communal kitchen of Oxford University’s department of psychiatry.

“You would think that these people would be masters of communication,” our submitter says. “Evidently, not so much.”

In Australia, meanwhile, it seems they prefer not to beat around the bush* — at least when it comes to wet spoons.

related: The Ph.D’s approach to air conditioning units

*bad pun intended

Our submitter at a university in Canberra spotted this first note while getting his morning coffee. “Pat (a professor in the department) has been complaining for weeks that her coffee mug seems to disappear and reappear spontaneously. Her mood varies with its presence.”

Several days later, our submitter spotted this addendum, written by another professor sympathetic to Pat’s cause. “Since the mug hasn’t turned up in over a week, I’m pretty sure the culprit is too afraid to return the mug at this point.” (Could you blame him?)

related: Not to name names, but…

Sorry, I meant back door. I’m gonna slowly back away now, ma’am…

related: Dear lovely ladies

When he first moved in, says our submitter in Melbourne, the apartment across the way already had the two big handmade nuclear posts in the window. Two months later, up went the note at the left about unneighborly acts like obscene “jestures” (which makes me envision of motley crew of courtyard jugglers giving the finger to nosy busybodies in the apartments above.) The cigarette notice is the latest addition.

Says our submitter: “I’m tempted to strut about without trousers and see if I can get a mention, too!”

In the meantime, his other neighbors seem to already be getting in on the act.

(As always, just click on the images to enlarge them.)

related: WiFi for Passive-Aggressives

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?