Writes our anonymous submitter: “This was sent to my six-year-old step daughter by her grandma. The birthday present in question was a pack of writing paper and $5 American. We live in Canada.”

(The “did you get…” pretense combined with the oh-so-subtle post script is so classic “passive-aggressive grandma” that I cannot even handle it. Bonus points for the repurposed note paper!)

Meanwhile, Toni spotted this grandma’s thank-you note on a closed booth at a flea market in Lakewood, Ohio.

related: But…but…I didn’t forget!

This martyr alert spotted by Randy on the breakroom fridge of his office in Chico, California…

related: hostile takeover

This note — spotted by Erik in a break room at Northwestern‘s Medill School of Journalism — takes me back to my days as a bright-eyed young reporter cheerfully slaving away at my college daily, where the grizzled old alumni “mentors” working at the Times or the Globe always seemed to have the same advice:  if we were smart, we’d get the hell out of journalism before it was too late. (“Ha ha,” we’d laugh, awkwardly.) It’s somehow reassuring to know that kids today (“kids today!”) are still blithely ignoring their elders to pursue a degree that just might be the most unnecessary in higher education.

But seriously now. At this point, you’re like, “What is this biotch rambling on about? Doesn’t she know I don’t read text longer than 140 characters at a time? Show me the picture, dammit!” And that, young j-schoolers, is the topic of next week’s lecture.

related: the silverware segregationist

extra credit: the twitter explosion [american journalism review]

Erin in Minneapolis found this note attached to a door in an apartment building of her then-boyfriend. (Whether or not this act of fate would later precipitate her own breakup remains unclear.)

Oh, and Mary? Paper is traditionally given as a gift for the first anniversary. Perhaps a note written on an empty soda can would have been more appropriate for your tenth?

related: desperately seeking closure

There’s a guilt trip…

And then there’s a guilt trip.

related: Your hamster died? Well, I can top that.

D in Sunderland, Mass. received a piece of her previous manager’s mail several months after he was fired.

“I felt it was only right to contact him about a membership directory for an organization with which he was heavily involved,” she says. “I was genuinely shocked to receive his reply, especially considering how careful he was to never put anything in print that could possibly damage his reputation as ‘an internationally published poet.’”

Hi [redacted], Your NEIBA Membership directory arrived at the store today. (I got your email from the listing.) Would you like to come pick it up, or should I recycle it. John says you are working on a play. I hope it comes out well. Please let me know if it is performed in the area – I would like to see it. Have a great day!

Please recycle the directory. A copy of the directory was mailed to me at my home address. Also, please do not contact me again. You are certainly not my friend, my colleague, or even an old acquaintance. Thank you for refraining from making any further contact with me.

related: awkward cake

Writes Matt in Los Angeles: “I went to get some of the 2% milk I keep in our communal work fridge for my coffee, and BAM! — front and center was this lovely.”

related: And I’m singing “uh oh” on a Friday night

Alec in Houston found this little work of art on his desk, he says, “after I went out for lunch and didn’t do the dishes like they had asked.” With gritted teeth, he goes on: “They have ‘too much work’ and I have ‘none’ so I might as well wash them!”

related: Al Gore knows you drove when you could have taken your new bicycle