Who knew? If you’re in the market for cemetery plots at bargain-basement prices, apparently the go-to place is…the women’s locker room at the gym. At least that’s where our submitter in East Lansing, Michigan spotted this notice (which was clearly not penned by Hemingway).

Happy “WTF?” Friday, everyone!

related: Please, No Breast Cancer trash!

At the local community centre, Isabel in Bolton, England (Home of the “White Men”) spotted this board put together by some Sunday School children entitled “My Mum is Special.” (Kudos to the teachers for allowing the kids considerable latitude in how they chose to define “special.”)

related: My Mommy is special because she has a potty mouth.

For her 28th birthday, Jennifer in Arizona received this thoughtful card from her mother-in-law (who apparently comes from the same school of gift-giving as my own Grandma Cookie).  “Since April I’ve lost 15 pounds,” Jennifer explains. “Apparently she’s concerned that I’ll gain it back.”

related: Take this and go buy yourself a couple of scales, okay, sweetie?

“Typically, the people at my son’s day care just tell me when he’s running low on diapers or they write a note on his daily progress report,” says Lindsey in Peoria, Illinois. “Last time I forgot, and he had to use a few of theirs. I guess this was his teacher’s passive-aggressive [Ed. note: AND TOTALLY CREEPY] way of ensuring that I’d remember this time.”

(It worked.)

related: Is your babysitter trying to get in your kid’s pants?

It all started when Erin in Toronto sent her uncle a Christmas card. Actually, scratch that — it all started three years ago, at Erin’s wedding, the last time Erin actually saw her uncle in person.

Before the wedding, Erin explains, “Linda (my uncle’s girlfriend) RSVP’d that she’d attend, and then then didn’t bother to show up, meaning we had to pay for her meal anyway.” (Not that she’s bitter about that or anything!) “Since then,” Erin says, “I assumed they had broken up and have addressed the annual Christmas card to just my uncle and cousin.”

Now, while that might sound a bit hasty (or even, dare I say…passive-aggressive),  in Erin’s defense, the Christmas cards she received were only signed by her uncle and cousin — this year’s included. And yet, in what appears to be a last-minute back-of-the-envelope calculation, “Linda chose this year to remind me that she was still kicking around,” Erin says.

On the flip side of things, receiving mail addressed to one’s ex can be a disturbing experience as well. I’d say this intercepted message speaks for itself.

related: There are NO pre-paid legal executives (OR FEMALES!) living here!

I think it’s actually pretty amazing how Kathy‘s six-year-old daughter — feeling a wee bit neglected now that there’s a baby brother on the scene — has managed to capture the love/hate essence of the “I’m no longer an only child” crisis in words, however adorably misspelled. (As the oldest of four kids myself, my mother will never let me forget that my method of expressing those feelings — temper tantrums — was considerably less cute.)

related: Sibling rivalry, the rift that keeps on giving

extra credit: “Does Birth Order Matter?” [nytimes.com]

Catie in Indianapolis was over at the house of her boyfriend’s family’s house when she spied this adorable-looking note on the fridge. Upon further investigation, she learned it was written by her boyfriend’s 7-year-old niece as a gift to her grandparents. Adds Catie: “I saw these girls in action over the weekend, and I think the fourth line actually overstates her feelings for her sisters.”

I only hope the kid’s family holds on to her note until she’s old enough to be embarrassed/amused by her young self. As it happens, Sarah in Waco, Texas recently had the opportunity to do just that.

While cleaning out boxes after her grandmother passed away, she stumbled upon a thank you note she had written to her grandparents years earlier. (“In my defense,” Sarah says, “my brother never did write his own thank you note.”)

related: Dear Mommy, I love you…sometimes.

In lieu of a Father’s Day gift, Sarah in D.C. says her 13-year-old cousin posted this note on the front door of their house the night before, so her Dad could see it when got up this morning for her Sunday walk. “According to her, it’s the thought that counts anyway,” Sarah says. “I thought it was really sweet, but the post script is the best.”

related: Dear Dad, I hate you less than the other parental unit. Happy Father’s Day!