“My roommate thinks I took her dry erase board when I was 40 miles away the week it was taken,” says an anonymous college student in Tampa, Florida. “She has been leaving me notes like this ALL YEAR.”

God help our poor submitter, but I’m nominating this crazy rainbow of a note for the passive-aggressive hall of fame. (Prize: a year’s worth of anger-management therapy?)

related: Which one of these is not like the other?

Originally unearthed from outside the hallowed Conde Nast cafeteria in July 2001, this digital-age relic provides a quaint look back at those halcyon days among the New York media elite — back when Gawker was still just a glint in Nick Denton’s eye, young Anna Wintour acolytes were still stuck in the induction phase of the Atkins diet, and print media still seemed to maybe, sort-of matter!

It’s hard to say which seems more charming about this exchange: the amazingly un-snarky response of the cafeteria staff? Or the fact that someone would deign to eat mayonnaise at 4 Times Square?

related: like a rotten sponge

Julie spotted this amazing note on New York’s Lower East Side…

(Dude, how ominous are those ellipses?)

related: Movin’ out (Anthony’s song)

Tina is Los Angeles didn’t have any problem with her roommate‘s friend couchsurfing at their apartment for a month, but both she and her roomie started to get irked when the friend started inviting other friends to stay over — and then kept doing it, even after the roomie expressly asked her not to.

“The first friend we encountered killed one of my fish and put gum in my aquarium,” Tina says. When another friend-of-a-friend started “subtly and sarcastically deriding” their taste in fashion/entertainment/blah blah blah…well, the roommates decided enough was enough.

related: Some suggestions for the comfort of your guest

“Beware,” indeed: Walking along “West 25th or so” in Manhattan, this “work of art” was enough to make Eric “personally” “shit his pants.”

extra credit: The Zagat history of my last relationship [The New Yorker]

Amber received this amazing note in an envelope on her doorstep in Sacramento. “I have no idea which neighbor sent this to me, but I can only assume it was the paranoid-looking woman who lives above me,” she says. “But I don’t do drugs. I don’t even smoke cigarettes!”

related: Don’t hate the playa

Thanks to Sarah for capturing this delicious little slice of life from her Christian college in Illinois. (Delicious like a quart of Starbucks Coffee Almond Fudge, not one measly little low-fat Frappucino bar.)

related: but He took the wheel

Joe in Northern Virginia has amassed a pretty divine collection of office fridge notes over the years, the best of which portend various forms of karmic/economic/physical retribution.

related: It must have been a pretty big bite