PassiveAggressiveNotes.com » Washington state

It’s not a chore; it’s a date!

Kerry — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 02:58:38 +0000

Spotted by Kathy at her office lunchroom in Seattle:

The real sad reality?

Lord of the Laundry Room

Kerry — Wed, 22 Jun 2011 02:19:50 +0000

I’m probably more than a little biased when it comes to determining whether or not Alan in Seattle — the writer of the note below and self-appointed Lord of the Laundry Room — is, in fact, an ass.

For one, even though I know the scent of fresh laundry is actually thanks to evil chemical compounds and not “mountain breeze” or “spring rain,” I still kinda love it. Of course, I don’t live in an apartment directly above a laundry room. Instead, I live in an apartment surrounded by chain smokers. And while I hardly enjoy the smell of cigarettes, I’ve managed to deal without threatening to confiscate my neighbors’ Marlboros and replace them with bottles of bubble solution. (I also keep my windows shut.)

What say you, troublemakers? Is Alan wrong? Or is he just an asshole?

related: You’re not wrong, Walter

How to respectfully steal my food

Kerry — Thu, 16 Jun 2011 04:00:52 +0000

Compared to the notes we usually see about food theft, Steven seems like a pretty reasonable guy. But isn’t “respectful stealing” still something of an oxymoron?

recent: That Outback bread was…

Really, Garry, you had me at “plese.”

Kerry — Fri, 03 Jun 2011 04:56:11 +0000

I asked our submitter if she might be able to snap another photo of this memo/notice — one without the ghostly reflection of the man in the wifebeater — but alas, she says, it has since been taken down and replaced with a new memo offering a $500 reward for information leading to the culprit still vandalizing the elevator.

And yet, now that I’ve spent a little time with this image (in all of its beautiful absurdity), I’ve come to feel that it just wouldn’t feel quite complete without wifebeater man. Because this, my friends, is a work of art.

related: Thx Sandra

To whom that wanted my cat bot

Kerry — Sun, 06 Feb 2011 23:19:34 +0000

The proper care of outdoor cats has become one of those issues — like tipping, or whether the toilet paper roll should hang over or under — that will no doubt incite flame wars until the end of time. That said, Lindsay in Oregon was still a bit surprised when this note appeared on her apartment building’s bulletin board, given that “FOUND” posters referencing the same collar-less cat had been posted on said bulletin board for weeks on end.

After experiencing similar problems with the neighbors (despite the fact that his cat already wears tags with his owner’s phone number on them) Elisa’s friend in Seattle had another tag made in hopes of preventing future trips to “kitty jail” — or at least to piss of the neighbors taking his cat there.

related: Cat fight!

Please, contain your excitement.

Kerry — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 18:19:05 +0000

“My office just got a new style of paper which has caused quite the stir,” says our submitter in Seattle. “It’s made from forested trees, or something like that, so obviously we can’t wait to use it.”

A clue that your whole “half-caf, extra hot, non-fat dressing-on-the-side” thing might be a bit much.

Kerry — Thu, 23 Sep 2010 06:35:46 +0000

“Perhaps I was a bit too particular about what I wanted when I ordered my salad at lunch,” admits Daniel in Seattle. “I found this when I pulled it out of my bag back at the office.”

And from the Athens, Ohio Dept. of Disgruntled Baristas…

related: Have it your way, jerk

My cat-shit crazy neighbor

Kerry — Fri, 03 Sep 2010 00:02:32 +0000

Edie in Bellevue, Washington wasn’t too happy with the neighbor’s cat using her lawn as its personal toilet, so she finally asked the cat’s owner if she’d please clean it up. “She did,” Edie says, “but only after explaining that the cat poops on everyone’s lawn and no one else minds.” (After asking around the neighborhood, Edie found this to be only half-true.)

Little did they know that cat’s crap was practically worth its weight in friggin’ GOLD!!! One can only imagine the reactions of Edie and her similarly ungrateful neighbors when they finished reading the photocopied letter taped to their front doors. (First place? For three years running?? What fools we’ve all been!!!)

extra credit: The Radiolab episode about Toxoplasma and crazy cat ladies

In case of emergency…well, you’re on your own.

Kerry — Tue, 31 Aug 2010 02:38:52 +0000

In one of my clearest memories of first grade, I distinctly remember my teacher telling us, on the first day of school, that the bathroom in the back of the classroom was only for emergencies. For non-emergencies, we’d have to wait until lunchtime. In my six-year-old mind, however, “emergency” meant only one thing: “throwing up.” And so, when I had to go, I held it. And held it. Until…well, I wasn’t holding it anymore.

That’s right: It actually took wetting my pants for me to learn that the word “emergency” means very different things to different people — a concept some people apparently still haven’t figured out.

It’s unclear, for example, what might constitute a “citrus emergency” at this Pleasanton, California optometrist’s office. (Perhaps a masochistic mandarin peeling itself?)

You might think people would be a little more precise in their language on a military base. At Arizona’s Fort Huachuca, you’d only be about half right.

At Gustavo’s new office building in Seattle, it only took about a week — and about a bazillion false alarms— before someone decided a little clarification was necessary. (Sorta sounds like something you’d expect from a classroom of first-graders, no?)

Meanwhile, Andrew in Cirencester, England only noticed this sign after pushing open one of his office’s alarmed fire doors (triggering a sudden and unforeseen occurrence — i.e., ear-shattering noise).

God’s word is…well, a little confusing, at least for a 7-year-old.

Kerry — Mon, 19 Jul 2010 01:38:51 +0000

Larissa in Tacoma, Washington recently sent her 7-year-old son, Silas, to a week of Bible camp. When he came home, Larissa says, she wondered if the experience hadn’t left him a bit…conflicted…especially after seeing the pillow he made during craft time.

(“Rouls,” by the way, is not Silas’s last name. That’s the 7-year-old spelling of “RULES.”)

Meanwhile, I can see how the sign below, from a candy store in Rayne, Louisiana — which I assume was intended to deter this theft — could easily send a particular type of child into a tailspin of religious guilt.

Is God smiling? How do I know if God’s smiling? Does God like chocolate? I don’t think chocolate’s in the Bible. But Proverbs says: ‘My child, eat honey, for it is good.’ So maybe I should get a Bit o’ Honey instead. But a Bit o’ Honey costs more than 50 cents, and Mom said I could only spend 50 cents. So then I’d be dishonoring my parents, and that wouldn’t make God happy. So maybe I should…maybe I should….[bursts into tears]

Dr. Doolittle gets tough

Kerry — Tue, 29 Jun 2010 01:24:44 +0000

Jane in Boston says this note appeared on Tomio’s bedroom door, at cat’s-eye level. “Given that I’m pretty sure cats can’t read, it’s the ultimate passive-aggressive sentiment,” Jane says, “but a cat shitting on your bed is pretty passive aggressive, too. What a tangled web we weave.”

Meanwhile, a submitter in Cornwall, England spotted this note (again, at pet’s-eye level) on the front door of a house. “It was unclear what the dog had done, how the notewriter expected the dog to read this, or how ‘Diane’ was filming the dog,” our submitter says. “There was no sign of a camera.”

And yet, it’s this commandment —posted by a neighbor of Marissa in San Francisco — that tickles me the most.

UPDATE: A bonus note (via Anthonio in Seattle), from…Dirt.

Grow some thicker bark, why don’tcha?

Kerry — Fri, 04 Jun 2010 02:52:22 +0000

“If you want respect,” barked the Daddy tree, “you gotta earn it. Show ‘some freakin’ acorns!”

“But Daaaaaaad,” whined the trembling young sapling. “I just…I just want to be beautiful!”

“What is this, a goddamn Shel Silverstein book? Quit your birching already.”

(As witnessed by Kevin in Arcata, California, and (below) by Taber in Richmond, Virginia.)

But as Michael in Seattle observed, at least one of those sad little trees wasn’t about to let his bully of a father have the last word.

related: The right to bear fruit

And your mosaic sucks

Kerry — Thu, 20 May 2010 02:45:58 +0000

Anybody else in the mood for a no-holds-barred, batshit-crazy tirade? ’Cause I sure am! Pretty much the only thing remotely “passive” about this message — which Jared in Seattle found taped to the front entrance of his share house — is the fact that it was delivered by note, rather than say, by fist.

The note writer takes a little while here to build up steam, but manages to get in at least one solidly below-the-belt jab before spiraling into a CAPS LOCK-induced rage blackout.

related: Worst secret admirer ever?

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got Call of Duty 4 on pause

Kerry — Mon, 22 Mar 2010 21:42:46 +0000

Jack and Sarah in Tacoma, Washington both spotted this note taped to the window of a coffee shop outside the Fort Lewis military base in Tillicum. While I particularly enjoy the slow crescendo of this note, I’m not sure the manager of the H&R Block across the street would feel the same.

related: Raging against the little guy