(My roommate disagreed.)

Now it’s my turn: Happy birthday, Kim! (emoticon emoticon emoticon)

related: an occasion that blue mountain arts has yet to animate
extra credit: cake wrecks

Just so you Noe Valley-ites don’t feel like you’ve cornered the self-righteous yuppie market…I spotted this last week on my very own block in Park Slope, Brooklyn.

related: the thoughts that count
extra credit: “a different sort of neighborhood watch” [brownstoner.com]
“Brooklyn neighbors & passive-aggressive notes” [daftcrafts.com]

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.

related: Oh, shit!

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!)

related: What is it about dog crap that pushes Brooklynites over the edge?

I realize this example (from outside the American Legion HQ in Park Slope, Brooklyn) is not so much “passive-aggressive” as it is “crazy,” but it tickles me too much not to post. The little species/feces couplet has been painted over and re-written at least twice, so obviously I’m not the only one who appreciated it.

You can’t tell from these photos, but this little storefront stands as one of the few bastions on Fifth Avenue that the armies of invading gentrifiers couldn’t take down with their industrial-size nozzles of mrs. meyer’s and turn into a precious little bakery selling organic dog cupcakes. While I was taking these photos a man in a lawn chair was either yelling at me to stop or trying to sell me a ratty old suitcase.

The latest in a well-documented series.