Ah, young love.

related: Facebook: a place for frenemies

extra credit: thumbspeak [thenewyorker.com]

…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

related: Seriously!?!

Says our anonymous Facebook user in Ottawa: “It’s exactly what it looks like.”

related: In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In posts on Facebook?

Writes our anonymous submitter from Canada: “I got back to my desk after lunch on a Friday and found this heartfelt note on my keyboard. I was touched.”

Adds our submitter: “i worked my ass off on that damn report!”

related: Oh sweetie, I love it when you talk dirty!
extra credit: TPS report cover sheet

Given the highly intellectual discussions this site’s commenters have become known for, it seems safe to assume that the question, “How are we to judge poetry?”  is one that you, dear reader, have no doubt pondered on many an occasion, along with other more academic concerns such as the proper resting state of the toilet lid.

Well, as the late Philip Larkin once said, “I think a poet should be judged by what he does with his subjects, not by what his subjects are.” With that in mind, which of these poets would you judge “less likely to make you totally vom”?

Is it this one, from a university campus in Toronto?

…or is it this one, spotted by Kacey at the YMCA in the college town of Champaign, Illinois?

related: a limerick

extra credit: The Poet of Dirty Words: Reconsidering Philip Larkin [slate.com]

This bit of poetry is brought to us by Alex in Vancouver, an innocent observer on the scene.

Nadia received this letter from her boyfriend’s cousin, Amy, who recently relocated with her boyfriend from Saskatoon to Victoria, B.C…and have been shacking up with Nadia and her boyfriend even since. Over the past month, roomie relations have become a bit strained, to say the least.

“We had to send a stray cat she was harboring to a friend’s house temporarily (my allergies were killing me),” Nadia says, and Amy proceeded to pout for three days straight. A minor-blow out ensued, which was then followed by this untitled composition. Nadia and her boyfriend are scheduled to move out on Wednesday.

Adds Nadia: “A friend of mine (a B.A. in professional writing and linguistics) and I (a high school science and math teacher with a zoology degree and a B.Ed.) corrected all of the mistakes in the letter.” Then, fighting ire with ire, they posted it on the fridge.

related: Nice move