Tonya says she and her boyfriend in Charlottesville, Virginia had been living together for two years when they received this Valentine from his mother, “with the not-so-subtle implication that we should take our relationship to the next level.” Adds Tonya: “Oh, and on the inside of the card, she spelled my name wrong.”

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone!

related: The next-to-marry list

Shawn in Pennsylvania found this oh-so-subtly guilt-trippy thank you note tucked inside his Sunday paper. (“Apparently our paper delivery person is hoping for bigger and better tips in 2011,” he says.)

related: If you don’t tip you’re racist

“We are normally a 24-hour store,” writes our submitter in Portland, Oregon, “but we close early for Christmas.” At least one customer found this policy to be most unsatisfactory — as evidenced by the holiday greeting she left behind.

related: In case you’re wondering why we’re closed

In a brief moment of silence at a Christmas celebration, 7-year-old Madyson happened to let one rip. “We all laughed and told her to say ‘excuse me,’” says her cousin, Carrie in Detroit, but instead, the mortified girl ran out of the room. A few minutes later, she returned to fling this note in her family’s general direction.

Well, Madyson, you learned a valuable lesson this Christmas: parents are mean. But getting the hell out of Detroit? That’s actually not a bad idea. (Make a break for it now, and that passing of gas could be the best thing you never did!)

related: From the Mixed-Up Files of Joan Jett; When you can’t blame the dog

So, I’ve been thinking about it (!) but I’m still not entirely clear about what type of eternal damnation Christmas-ornament thieves should supposedly be condemned. Perhaps some sort of Sisyphean untangling of Christmas lights?

One thing seems certain, however: no matter what your belief system, some type of divine retribution is in order.

Thanks to Wade in D.C., Jack in Santa Monica, and Emma in L.A. for their submissions!

related: Imagine…Christmas morning…You!!

Says our submitter in Las Vegas: “My mom found this — my brother’s Christmas shopping list — while cleaning up the house before company came over. (Sandra is my sister-in-law.)”

Poor Sandra. She doesn’t even warrant a regifted Mongolia[n] BBQ hat from the office potluck?

related: Stuff this in your stocking, sister.

Halloween was just a prelude, really —it’s Christmas that brings the real bounty of guilt-trip opportunities, often with a bonus side helping of irony.

To wit: Jaime in Canada says his neighbor (okay, “neighbour”) went totally Clark Griswold with his Christmas decorating this year, creating a sparkling extravaganza that is, Jaime says, “quite the treat for the eyes.”

But the best part of the display might be what stands in front of Santa and his team of reindeer  — an ellipses-and-exclamation-fueled cautionary tale about the true meaning of Christmas…consumerism!!! (Take that, Tiny Tim!)

related: Who stole and vandalized a candy cane? Who stole the baby Jesus??

Our submitter, a bartender in D.C., might not be the world’s biggest Mariah Carey fan, but when a group of customers put “All I Want for Christmas is You,” on the jukebox last Saturday night, he didn’t complain. But when the same group queued the song up again — three times in a row — he invoked his bartender’s privilege and skipped it. After all, he says, “It was DECEMBER 4th. I gave them their money back, but they still kept calling me ‘Grinch.’”

I have to step in here and note that, yes, that song is like crack — once you’re hooked, one hit is never enough. But that’s when you go home and spend the 99 cents to download it so you can indulge your addiction on endless repeat without coughing up a quarter every time. However, money management not being the forte of most addicts, at the end of the night the holiday-happy patrons left behind this oh-so-classy note in lieu of a tip.

That very same weekend, meanwhile, Amy noticed that the bartender at one of her local haunts in Murrysville, Pennsylvania has taken a proactive approach to this particular problem. “Normally a super friendly place, I was sooo tempted to play ‘Don’t Stop Believin’ just to see what they would do.” (Instead, she held on to that feeling — privately — and took a picture.)

related: “You Can Call Me Arse”: A review of last night’s performance

extra credit: Jukebox Etiquette 101