Writes Chris in Riverside, California: “My friend Eric essentially has a LAN center in his garage. Cigarettes and energy drinks are the diet of choice and we (usually 5 to 7 people lanning there at any given time) piss on his fence so we don’t flush the toilet too many times over the evening. He woke up one morning with this note from his mother.”

I’d say Eric got off pretty easy, no?

related: WoW, indeed

Writes our anonymous submitter in San Francisco: “I spotted this on the sidewalk on my way to work. (It wasn’t obviously attached to anything, just laying there.)  I realize parking in SF is a real nightmare, with driveways every .03 inches, but come on!

related: How Berkeley

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

Presumably, writes Chris in San Francisco, the note-writer “figured that if she didn’t put a note on all each offending bag, someone was going to feel left out.”

Adds Chris: “Admittedly, the Kashi cereal box in the back has been there for over two years.  I leave it just as an experiment in human behavior, but apparently somebody had had enough.”

related: A sign (or ten) that your HR department might have too much time on their hands

Writes Joe in Van Nuys, California: “Dave has been upset because people have been drinking his tea. Apparently, he was unaware of other potential Daves in the office. Next time, maybe he should clarify?”

related: Who’s the smartass?

Quelle horreur!  “A good week after using my roommate’s microplane to grate parmesan, this note showed up on the fridge whiteboard,” writes Tori in (where else?) San Francisco. “Apparently microplanes are for ZESTING ONLY!”

(unless, of course, it’s a microplane zester/grater.)

related: notes white people leave

Victoria in Foster city, California, says her brother taped this note to one of the kitchen cabinets in their mother’s house after her boyfriend took his own frozen chicken out of little brother’s grasp the night before. (Just to clarify that mess of pronouns: it was Victoria’s boyfriend’s chicken. Not that it really matters.)

“He’s 17 and constantly PMS-ing and thinks he has reign of the house,” Victoria says of her brother. So, in response, Victoria did whatever any older sibling does when a parent tells you to suck it up and act your age. (Namely: exactly the opposite.)

related: no girls allowed

Veronica spotted this gloriously expressive exercise in futility stapled to a telephone pole near her home in San Francisco. I totally forgive the double p in “apartment,” because dude,  I know exactly how you feel.

Also, the idea of someone ripping off one of those tabs and going, “Why yes, I will fuck myself!” is just really tickling me right now.

related: untitled (broken glass)