“My roommate in college was allergic to everything,” says Casey in Watsonville, California — and she talked about it ad nauseam. “For her birthday sophomore year, we went to buy her a cake but of course she was allergic to everything good. So in the end, I just got a cake I liked and we bought her some crappy vegan thing that wouldn’t make her break out.”

(The cake, Casey says, was “delicious.”)

related: “I don’t need a birthday cake,” I said.

extra credit: CakeWrecks.com

Vaguely fishy notes like this one from Toronto are pretty common around office kitchens…

…but I’ve never seen a note that gets right to the point quite like this one from Amber in San Francisco.

related: It’s not a race (it’s a social construct)

I was really hoping this would die before I’d get around to posting about it, but more than four months later, it appears the  “Imma Let You Finish” meme is still chuggin’ along. I’m gonna chalk it up to end-of-the-year insta-nostalgia and, well, let it finish.

P.S. Speaking of Tillamook cheddar, Doug Fir in Portland makes the best mac & cheese OF ALL TIME!

related: Somebody’s on Team Taylor Swift

As we’ve noted here before, the white-collar nuisance known as the nibbler has been pathetically picking his (half)way through office kitchenettes across the land for some time now.

While the nibbler’s actions are usually met with disdain, one oh-so-compassionate office-worker from Omaha decided to take a different approach — an e-mail intervention, of sorts. I’d also be interested to see his advice for Mike in Cleveland, who seems to have similar delusions about the health impact of eating 9 donuts instead of 10.

(click the image below to enlarge)

The kicker? As it turns out, according to our anonymous submitter,”the bandit was, in fact, a guy!”

related: Just take the whole slice next time, okay?

writes our anonymous submitter in Cleveland: “My roommate Mike is usually a generous guy, but he’s very possessive of his coffee, beef jerky, and other certain food indulgences. This note was sort of touching; he didn’t want to share, made that clear, but then decided he probably should — not for me though, but for his waistline.  What a sweetheart!”

related: you’re not wrong, walter

Office lunch thieves: always despicable, and in this case — gullible, too.

The “helpful” (yet oh-so-devious) all-staff e-mail sent by the victim:

And — I shit you not — the response:

related: lean cuisine

Laura in Los Angeles spotted this note at a tropical-themed family restaurant in Rosemead, California, where aquariums figure heavily into the decor. The biggest fish, Laura says, occupies his (her?) own tank at the front of the restaurant.

Piscine body image issues aside, as a former casual-dining restaurant hostess  — a job that generally means bearing the brunt of the bullshit from pissy customers, stressed-out servers, and douche-nozzle managers with very little power to make anyone happy — I can certainly empathize with the note writer…though I highly doubt it’s actually eliminated the litany of  the “oh, that poor fish!” comments that inspired it.

related: no, yuppie, my cow’s not starving

This good-humored e-mail was send out to the entire staff of an elementary school…IN HELL!

(click the image below to enlarge)

related: What would Jesus do for a Klondike bar?

First up: Ami in London spots the fallout over what we can only assume was an onslaught of hungry breakfast bandits.

Yup, we’ve got those in the States, too…as Molly noticed at a grocery store in Ohio.

Adds Molly: “Why anyone would want to take a single slice of bacon out of a box I can’t really say, but if they needed to post three notes it must have been a pressing issue.” (Um, maybe she needed a replacement underwire?) But perhaps she should have checked the lost & found first…

Meanwhile, this Post-it (from a Mom in Florida) and its subsequent responses (from her punctuation-conscious, pork-loving children) bring to mind the oh-so-creepy phenomenon that is thoroughly documented on the stellar blog Suicide food.

This note appears to have been written by an actual pig (at least the Orwellian kind), but it appears instead to have been penned by the young son of submitter Irsh, of the aptly named blog Daily Piglet. Irsh says she found this note taped to the laundry room door when she got home later after her son had already gone to bed. “I’m not sure why he thought I was going to eat the bacon,” she says, “but I have to admit the idea of him not talking to me was briefly appealing.”

Happy Rosh Hashanah, everyone!

related: p.s. bacon is life
extra credit: “bacon bandit arrested”; suicidefood

Back in my college newspaper days, the pizzas in the back room always ended up, by the end of the night, completely decimated — some slices had the cheese picked off, others had the crusts nibbled away, and then those slices were oh-so-charitably left in the pizza box, presumably with the idea that some other, slightly more desperate slob would come by later and feast on the picked-over remains. That behavior, it seems, doesn’t stop with graduation.

Exhibit a) from Chris in New York

Exhibit b) from Nate in D.C.

exhibit c) from Jason in Los Angeles

exhibit d) from Chloe in Vancouver

exhibit e) from Therese in Seattle

related: The bathroom stall booger epidemic