Be afraid, roomies. Be very afraid.
related: I don’t complain.
Be afraid, roomies. Be very afraid.
related: I don’t complain.
Writes an anonymous roommate in Virginia: “Apparently living with me and my roommates is so terrible that after leaving the house, this girl felt the need to advise [my other] ‘rooms’ to stay at her boyfriend’s house and not with us.” Adds our (not-at-all bitter) submitter: “The only batteries she needs to recharge are the ones that go in her vibrator.”
Katie doesn’t remember writing this note (which she found while going through old papers of her mom’s) but says, “I do feel sorry for little 11-year-old me, having to deal with being falsely accused of *gasp* faking illness to get out of school, and then having to deal with the humiliation of public grandma affection.”
Adds Katie: “My favorite part is at the beginning where I unintentionally implied that my mother was some kind of slut. (At the time, she worked around a lot of truckers and always had funny stories about them trying to hit on her.) Also, you can totally tell that we had worked on letter-writing/dialogue skills in school recently.”
related: A thinly veiled tattletale
extra credit: “I Enjoy Being a Girl, Sort of” [This American Life]
“My dad has six older, very Italian sisters,” writes Kristina in Detroit, in what sounds very much like the setup for a sitcom. “They’re all very opinionated, and will take a stab at you whenever possible.”
A few weeks ago, she says, “My dad — out of the kindness of his heart — lent a hand by fixing his oldest sister’s virus-riddled computer.” Of course, Aunt Marie was well-warned that wiping her (un-backed-up) hard drive to get rid of the viruses would also erase her other downloaded programs, music and whatnot, but true to form, Aunt Marie wasn’t about to let a good deed go unpunished.
Even in her thank you note, Kristina says, “she just had to mention her ‘programs’ (which have no chance of coming back, and she knows it!)”
related: Best wishes, godless heathens!
Writes Justin in Salem, Massachusetts: “It was the middle of the recent blizzard and we had gone for a drive in the worst of the weather (because that’s what you do for fun when you drive a Jeep) and decided to stop for a cup of coffee at Dunkin’ Donuts” (because that’s what you do for fun if you’re a New Englander).
Upon arrival, Justin and his companion were greeted with this heartfelt note of congratulations from the Dunkin’ Donuts snowstorm staff (Rick).
related: Dunkin’ Donuts Employee of the Month
From Stacey in Jacksonville, Florida: the blitzkrieg approach to ongoing breakroom disorder.
And from Englewood, Colorado…the passive-aggressive approach:
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.)
extra credit: Jukebox Etiquette 101
At the time he received this note in his letterbox, Mike was living in Copenhagen, Denmark, where the apartments buildings tend to be rather close together. “My neighbor’s window is about 15 feet away from mine, across an alley,” Mike explains. “I can see her; she can see me.”
Though the wording of this note is considerably more polite compared to similar requests from other parts of the world, it still raised several questions in Mike’s mind. First of all, he says, “I have no idea how she knows I’m American. It’s not like I’m sitting in front of my computer, draped in an American flag.”
But more importantly, he wonders, “What’s the etiquette here? I thought this was just one of the quirks of urban living. You hear other people’s music, smell their cooking, and glimpse them through the window every once in awhile. I don’t really see why I should be the one to close my blinds and sit in the dark all day, since they’re the ones that have a problem with it.”
Well, what say you, peanut gallery?
Mike’s transcription: Hello US Citizen! It’s your neighbor speaking… I have a problem with your “window manners” — It’s quite problematic having you sitting in facel(?)-front many hours a day without making it cover or anything. I feel overlooked [Danglish for 'watched'] and compromised. XXX, Mel.
related: Be more private with yourself!
Although at first glance this card might seem pretty harmless, our submitter in Sacramento says she’s had enough experience with her new husband’s ultra-religious cousins to be able to read between the lines. (Just add “…before you’re both condemned to eternal damnation” to the end of the last sentence and you’ll get the idea.)
Adds our bristling bride: “I felt like telling her she could keep her $50 and her guilt trip, too, but decided I would have my revenge by having a long, happy, secular marriage instead.”
extra credit: the front of the card
Our submitter and her brother — both adults — recently received this e-mail from their mother, who’s currently traveling (thus making telephone calls difficult). What ever did empty nesters do before e-mail?
(Actually, it’s pretty easy to imagine this in telegram form — just take out the word “email” and sub in <STOP> for all those question marks.)