Though your attention might have drifted ever so briefly, I’d like to reassure you that the ongoing debate over which restrooms (men’s or women’s) are the foulest continues to rage on — and yes, it’s as nauseating as ever!

I literally received these two submissions — the first from an EMT school in Massachusetts, the second from a non-profit in D.C. — within minutes of each other. Mere coincidence? Or a cosmic clue from the Internet gods that it was time for a showdown between “Angulated Rectum Guy” and “The Queen of Diahrriah?” Okay, that was a gimme. The real question: who would you rather share a loo with?

Exhibit A) as witnessed by Josh in Fall River, Mass.

Exhibit B) From an anonymous bystander in College Park, Maryland

related: And you thought college students were foul…

If you’d like to join a vigilante punctuation posse or a grassroots typography militia, Washington State might be the place for you.

In one Seattle suburb, for example, an underground group has targeted a certain “JS,” who sources say “has some serious control/micromanagement issues, and enjoys flaunting his power to tell people what to do a liiiittle too much. He also tends to find nasty ways to get revenge on people who contradict him.”

Elsewhere in Seattle, “office professionalism” seems to have no bearing on freedom of speech…as long as you use the right typeface, of course.

related: Completely valid rebuttals

From South Africa, a non-passive-aggressive weekend bonus note!

I wouldn’t be surprised if this sign — from Cheetah rehab center near Capetown — was only posted after the recent demise of some hapless Darwin Award candidate. (One who thought blasting one of the most irritating sounds on earth in the face of a large predatory cat was a good idea.)

Chris found this not-so-nice note in the laundry room of his nice townhouse complex. What’s interesting here is how the author seems to undermine his or her own logic. (As Chris put it, “I know it’s really pathetic to steal a dryer sheet and a quarter, but really, is it that big of a deal?”)

If it’s not about the 25 cents, but rather, the principle of the thing, well…which is worse? To take a quarter from an empty laundry room, knowing that one of your neighbors left it there? Or to post a dick-ish anonymous note for all to see…instead of, say, keeping your damn quarters in your pocket like everybody else?

related: I know where you live, laundry thief

“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.

related: I’m not creepy, in fact…I’m quite gay.

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

Our submitter in Amherst, Massachusetts was heading to class at UMass one day when she saw no fewer than twelve of these signs posted throughout the hallways and doors of her apartment building.  “My neighbors had a fun time responding with comments all over them,” she says, at least for the day and half before they got taken down.

I think my favorite part of this one is the handwritten notes at the bottom. One neighbor suggests, “Perhaps you should talk to the people in this building instead of making them think you’re mean, dramatic and cowardly,” and the writer, pouty-faced, responds, “Well I have said this before and nobody listens.” (Unwritten response: “Boo-FUCKING-hoo. Sounds like somebody needs to get laid.” )

related: When parking gets political

I’m sure these ladies thank their lucky stars every day that they have each other as roommates. Wouldn’t you?

related: Your trash stinks. Grow up, thanks.

Mandie in Sullivan, Illinois found this love note from her six-year-old daughter tucked under her pillow one night. Can we get this kid on a stamp, stat? I think she has a future at Hallmark (or someecards).

Perhaps she could work on getting this prototype (by six-year-old Max in Marietta, Georgia) into production.

related: The joys of motherhood