PassiveAggressiveNotes.com » Oops?

XXX, Mum

Kerry — Sat, 12 Nov 2011 23:44:31 +0000

James in the U.K. recently came home from football practice to discover that, in his absence, his mother had gotten a peek at his Internet browser history (“full of…well, I’m 15, I’m sure you can guess.”) As cool as his mum was about the whole thing, says James, “I still don’t know if I’ll be able to look her in the face for a while.”

“Happy viewing”? Nicely played, Mum.

How NOT to earn great restaurant tips

Kerry — Thu, 08 Sep 2011 13:00:16 +0000

Writes Amber in Minnesota: “My friend works in accounting for a local restaurant chain, and every once in awhile she has to go through credit card receipts if something isn’t adding up correctly. She’s found some pretty interesting gems, but this one takes the cake.”

[Adds the Not-Pregnant Notewriter: THANKS FOR THE 'TAKES THE CAKE' COMMENT, AMBER. REALLY.]

Next time, I’ll burn the mail.

Kerry — Fri, 24 Jun 2011 03:27:39 +0000

Jillian and her roommates in Massachusetts recently found this note — which goes from 0 to 60 in half a page — outside their apartment door. At the time it was left, says Jillian: “None of us were home except the dog, who apparently needs to lose weight.”

But hey, neighbor? Even if they had been home, ignoring a knock hardly seems grounds for jumping straight to burning the mail. Apparently it is not a good month for chilling the fuck out.

related: (Don’t Fear) The Creeper

I’m not exactly sure what a “pre-warning” is, but it sure sounds serious.

Kerry — Thu, 23 Jun 2011 03:34:12 +0000

Roslyn in Houston found this note under her roommate’s windshield wiper just over a month after they both moved in. Puzzlingly, she says, “We do not own a rooster, nor have we ever seen or even heard one.”

(In that case, Roslyn, I’d tell your roommate’s boyfriend to pre-watch-out.)

related: Cock fight!

Bad luck you

Kerry — Wed, 08 Jun 2011 00:26:34 +0000

“My parents have a large front yard,” writes David in Georgia, “and up until a few years ago, it had about 40 trees in it.” Unfortunately, an arborist informed David’s parents that those trees, while they looked normal enough, had become infested and essentially hollowed-out by insects, killing the trees and turning them into a pretty big safety risk in the case of a storm. At the arborist’s recommendation — and I’m sure, at all no small expense — David’s parents had the trees removed.

Fast forward a few months to December, when the family put up their usual holiday decorations — little trees made of Christmas lights — throughout the front yard. Soon after, David says, the family received two items of interest in their mailbox:

1. A certificate of recognition from the Arbor Day Foundation, “thanking us for our efforts to prevent further tree deaths”
2. This handmade holiday card.

Adds David: “This person obviously put a lot of work into carefully drawing and writing it; the artwork and penmanship are immaculate. If only they’d put as much effort into asking us why we were having the trees removed.”

And don’t you DARE clean out the freezer — I have important bills in there!

Kerry — Mon, 02 May 2011 02:10:48 +0000

“My roommate is a total slob,” says Elinor in Toronto, so after two weeks away from the apartment, she wasn’t too surprised to see the kitchen piled high with several delightfully fragrant, filled-to-the-brim garbage bags. When she went to throw them out, Elinor discovered one of the bags was actually filled with clothes, so she put that one in her roommate’s room.

The next morning, Elinor found both of these notes slid under her bedroom door.

related: Stop! Don’t chute!

Haterade on the Rocks, with a twist

Kerry — Thu, 27 Jan 2011 02:16:20 +0000

After a night of heavy drinking, Dani in Baltimore woke up with a killer hangover that turned positively murderous when she noticed that her bottle of Gatorade — which she’d been saving in anticipation of her post-hangover re-hydration needs — was missing from the fridge.

Assuming her husband must have taken it, Dani quickly dashed off this exclamation-point-heavy tirade (which, of course, is “passive” only in the sense that she chose to sit down at the keyboard instead of going straight for the butcher knife).

A few hours later, however, says Dani, “I remembered that I had actually drunkenly finished the bottle of Gatorade the night before, in an attempt to avoid said hangover. Oops!”

I’m hoping this little “oops” was a come-to-Jesus moment for Dani that showed her the error of note-writing ways, but if not…well, Dani’s husband: consider yourself warned. Because seriously, this is America, not another planet!

related: You are on Uncle Paul’s list!

Faux (feu) pas

Kerry — Mon, 17 Jan 2011 20:30:13 +0000

To me, this note is like that scene about 17 minutes into an episode of Law & Order, when the detectives run into an overly-talkative building manager and ask him he’s seen anything suspicious lately. Then, inevitably, the guy says something like, “Well, now that you mention it, ’bout two days ago, one of the residents tried to burn some old bloody clothes in that fireplace over dere. I guess the guy wasn’t too smaht, cause he didn’t figure out that fireplace ain’t real. You know, it’s just for show.”

Did somebody say “snail mail”?

Kerry — Thu, 02 Dec 2010 02:00:29 +0000

Before her husband left on his first military deployment, Sarah in San Diego sent out an e-mail to the whole family with info about how everyone can stay in touch while he’s away. To avoid any potential in-law drama, she even had her husband read and sign off on the e-mail before sending. What neither Sarah nor her husband took into account? The Uncle Paul factor.

Her husband’s Uncle Paul, Sarah explains, is a mailman/postman/letter carrier — whatever the correct term is. (Based on Uncle Paul’s reply, she says, “I’m clearly not up enough on the intricate etiquette of the U.S. Postal Service to know.”)

Feeling of failing

Kerry — Mon, 22 Nov 2010 02:00:45 +0000

Our submitter, a college student in Wisconsin, passes along this “debackle” of an e-mail a girl in her art history class recently sent to all the other students in the class — and, in a particularly gutsy/idiotic move — to the professor, too.

Adds our submitter: “The funny thing is that the class is actually very enjoyable, the instructor has never changed a test date/format, and the lectures are always well organized and engaging. Judging from all the spelling errors, she might want to drop art history and pick up an English class instead.”

Hard times with hard water

Kerry — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 00:29:04 +0000

This seems like a reasonable enough request to ask of your housemates…except for the fact that, as Jason explains, “Our water is full of assorted minerals (and who knows what else), and drips from the ceiling above the bathtub all day.”

So those yellow stains in the tub? Yeah, not urine. Just evidence of a bathtub in need of some serious scrubbing. (And those pink stains on the water cooler? Probably not lipstick.)

But if your shower smells like piss…well, it’s gonna be hard to blame that on hard water.

Exes and Ohs

Kerry — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 21:30:22 +0000

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.

No snitchin’

Kerry — Mon, 21 Jun 2010 23:26:23 +0000

“So, this note was left in my mailbox (along with those of our other neighbors, I assume) back in March,” says our submitter in Connecticut. Although this one starts with out with seems like run-of-the-mill suburban blahblahblah, the second paragraph throws out a hell of a curveball.

“To be honest, I’m surprised the notewriter hasn’t taken to the street with a megaphone, demanding that the cowards who called the Health Department show themselves,” our submitter says. No such luck, however. ”My wife and I are dying to know who the snitch was,” he says, “but we’ve been left hanging!”

He adds: “I’ve considered mailing the writer an anonymous note stating that, strictly speaking, leaving notes in our mailboxes without paying postage is a violation of federal law. You know, just to throw some fuel on the fire.” (I’d say submitting the note to this note is probably good enough.)

Feel free to apologize

Kerry — Mon, 17 May 2010 03:00:02 +0000

“I found this posted on every vertical object within a block radius around Adam’s Point in Oakland,” says submitter JasonP. (I particularly enjoy point #4 of the response.)

Meanwhile, a set of neighbors in Vancouver, B.C. were tussling over a similar case of mistaken identity.

extra credit: “But he was dressed like a ‘gang person,’ you guys!”