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.)
Our anonymous submitter in California is not the resident of Apartment 105, but she knew exactly who this note was intended for. “The dude in 105 lets his dog out, deposit her gifts on the sidewalk, and then run back. Dude stands and watches her, perfectly at his ease,” she says. “This has been going on for as long as I’ve lived here, so I guess someone finally got fed up.”
Adds our submitter: “This is not the first time I’ve seen a note like this. The shameless are immune to passive-aggression.”
I didn’t think i’d ever see a kitchen appliance more inappropriately anthropomorphized than this fridge, but I think this dishwasher note (from an anonymous submitter in England) dials the WTF-factor up to 11.
An anonymous submitter in Portland, Maine is currently chafing under one of the most common irritants of communal living: a roommate “who has never once bought toilet paper.”
She and her other roommate tried some of the more subtle manuevers in the passive-aggressive playbook — up to and including the ol’ hide-and-carry — to no avail. (“When we run out, he uses our paper towels instead,” she says.) That is, until her roommate, who’d “had enough of plunging his shit,” decided to up the ante with this note.
Well, our anonymous contributor in Pompano Beach, Florida has one for you.
He explains: “I keep a gym membership so that I can feel good about my financial commitment to my health — not so much for the actual health benefits per se. I hadn’t been to the gym in at least two months when I came across this note posted by the showers. (My shower at home was being worked on.) I’m glad I make it a habit to wear sandals in the shower during my quarterly visits.”
Based on the online/canine aging scale (one dog year = one youtube day) this video is pretty much on its last legs, but I love it just the same. Consider this post a mercy shot of euthanasia. (And thanks to Maximilian, Jen, Chris, Willa, Nattie, Cat and Dave for passing along!)
Amanda spotted this on the door of the post office in Milford, Pennsylvania. (Confidential to the fecal matter general: Dude, I know recycling can be a hassle sometimes, but this seems like a little much.)
Perhaps the Brooklynites who issued this poetical preemptive warning knew what they were doing all along…
I thought it was pretty crazy when Jessie sent in this sign from a thrift store in Wilmington, North Carolina a few months years back…
Then Ashley sent in this eerily similar note from a thrift store in Barnegat, New Jersey. “The first time I noticed it, there was only one note,” Ashley says. “Weeks later, when I came back to photograph it, they had added a second. Obviously, just the one note on the door wasn’t getting the point across. How do they know that the perp doesn’t only speaks French? That could be the reason for the recurring problem.”
And still, it continues!
Alice saw one at a thrift store in Tennessee…
Caity in New Orleans spotted another at Goodwill in Covington, Louisiana…
And now this, from Stephanie in Wichita, Kansas. Says Stephanie: “For years at our neighborhood DAV thrift store there’s been a dressing room that has smelled like pee. Turns out we weren’t imagining it!”
Seriously, what is it about thrift store fitting rooms?
The inimitable Jeff Rubin passes along this note from the foyer of his Park Slope apartment building. Yup, that’s what you think it is there on the floor. (Perhaps a hapless victim of the bag-tampering deliquent?)
(Jeff says the mess was cleaned up when he checked a few hours later.)
Meanwhile, elsewhere in Brooklyn, confusion still reigns.
My own neighborhood of Park Slope, Brooklyn has high concentrations of dogs, babies, crazies and bloggers, which makes for a heady brew of incredibly well-documented passive-aggressiveness. Certain notes (like this long-running series) show up in my inbox over and over again. I’ve gotten various iterations of this note from no fewer than six different people over the past few months, with good reason.
I think the dogged persistence of the note-writer is pretty incredible in its own right, but even better is what the note doesn’t quite explain: these bags weren’t just being stolen — some “juvenile/adult delinquent” was also cutting the bottom of the bags, then putting them back for the next unsuspecting dog-walking victim. Oh, shit!
(Thanks to William, Kathleen, Elaine, Sarah, T-1-11, and JM for submitting!)
"I once invited a couple and their 7 year old for dinner. I received a detailed list of what the child would eat. Not a list like "pasta, cheese, pizza," but a list that included brand names, types of cheese, and the SHAPE THE CHEESE SHOULD BE CUT INTO. I tried to follow the list & thought I was golden, but was greeted by wails because the pasta was the wrong shape.
Do I need to mention that I have never invited them over again??"