Adriana in Playa Del Rey, California said her husband found this note from a non-wind chime enthusiast taped to their outside of their condo building. “I personally love all the exclamation points,” Adriana says — “especially the cheery ‘thanks!’ at the bottom.”
February 6th, 2013 · 118 comments
February 5th, 2013 · 173 comments
Sara from Austin writes: “I took my 2-year-old to visit my darling (but travel-phobic) father-in-law. I’ve stayed at his house many times, but not since his girlfriend began living there. He told me to make myself at home and use anything we needed, specifically pointing to the linen closet. There was one bath towel and one washcloth hanging in the bathroom (for us to share?) so I helped myself to more.”
The next day, Sara says, “two brand-new (unwashed) towels were hanging in the bathroom and this note was taped inside the linen closet. The towels I had used the day before were all washed, folded and back in the closet behind the note. That night, we moved to my sister-in-law’s house.”
February 4th, 2013 · 71 comments
Explains Johnny in Alabama: “My friend Lauren left this for my brother Jared when she let him stay at her house for a few weeks. Every day she would come home and have a glass of milk and iced coffee. One day, she discovered that Jared had emptied the milk once already and had replaced it with milk from the gas station. It wasn’t the ‘weird expensive milk that she buys,’ and to make matters worse, he hadn’t checked the expiration date. The second time it happened he accidentally put the empty carton back in the fridge and came home later to find this note” — complete with a ‘hidden’ message.
related: The Boy Who Drank All The Milk
January 31st, 2013 · 21 comments
Emmet in Phoenix says that at his office, “people donate magazines for others to peruse, but sometimes they grow legs and disappear.” Emmet recently found this (totally metal) back-and-forth about the issue…on the issues themselves.
extra credit: These Babies Are Totally Metal [youtube]
January 30th, 2013 · 136 comments
“Frankly, I find this a little bit ridiculous,” says our submitter in Ohio, “but then again, I’m not a man.”
related: Urinal Games
January 29th, 2013 · 35 comments
Could one final Sticky-Note Bomb be enough to put an end to months of guerilla-style passive-aggression?
related: The Post-It Wars
January 28th, 2013 · 89 comments
“On its face, this note details a bunch of common-sense rhetoric about being a good employee,” our submitter says. “What’s hilarious and sad is how our ‘Service Ambassador’ thinks that a thinly-veiled threat like this is supposed to inspire fervent company loyalty and ‘outstanding service.’ Come prepared to kiss ass or we’ll kick yours?”
January 25th, 2013 · 57 comments
Erin in Los Angeles says it all started with a simple “No staples, please.” Then the whole office got involved.
related: Death by a Thousand Puns
January 23rd, 2013 · 60 comments
Marcel in Montreal begins his story with the moral: “There are just some things you don’t mess with — vipers, rabid dogs, king cobras, black widows…and my mom.” His younger self, however, was far less wise. This is his tale.
For a long time, Marcel and his siblings had the irritating habit of drinking all the milk in the house late at night so that there was none left when their mother went to pour herself a bowl of cereal for breakfast the morning.
One day, Marcel and his siblings came home from school to find a batch of “the richest, most delicious brownies ever” sitting on the counter. Of course, they dug in immediately. But just as he was about to head to the fridge to pour himself a cold, tall glass of milk to wash down all that chocolate-y goodness, Marcel noticed this note from Mom hiding underneath the crumbs.
“Sacre bleu!” he cried, for sure enough, there was not a drop of milk to be found in the house. Leaving a trail of brownie crumbs behind him, he ran as fast as he could to the nearest dairy farm, where, shortly before hitting send on this submission, he was eaten by a very hungry wolf.
“Both Marcel and the brownies,” the wolf wrote, “were fucking delicious.”
January 22nd, 2013 · 34 comments
Our submitter in Vancouver, Washington says this note was slipped under her door after her daughter was sent to her room following a disagreement about doing the dishes. Adds Mom: “I like that the poop is just there — not telling me I smell like poop, or to eat poop. Just…poop.”
related: Buckets of my tears