The long arm of Uncle Sam has extended all the way up to this roommate squabble in Peterborough, Ontario.

“The note on the right,” our submitter says, “is is written by a roommate who (as you can see) does not recognize the hypocrisy of calling someone out for being passive-aggressive in her own passive-aggressive note.”

related: Are you proud to be an American?

“I was forced to go wedding dress shopping with a total bridezilla I know,” writes our submitter in Fredericksburg, Virginia. “Another girl with us is also engaged to be married, and she wanted to try on dresses too. Bridezilla just smiled sweetly and pointed to the sign posted in the dressing room. Her exact words: ‘Sorry, only the bride is allowed, and today is my day.’”

Apparently you’d better keep an eye on those shifty bridesmaids when they’re shopping for the bachelorette party, too. (Or else…cow them into submission with more threats of an unenforceable nature?)

(Spotted by Molly at “Kitty House” boutique in Irvine, California.)

related: What say you, Emily Post?

Josh (formerly of Abbotsford, B.C.) received this doozy of a postcard from his ex, completely out of the blue. “Apparently she wanted to let me know, after more than two years of separation and one year since the divorce was final, that she was really happy we’re not together,” Josh says.

(I’m gonna guess the feeling is mutual.)

Adds Josh: “I too wondered why there was no postage mark from California, where the post card was supposedly mailed from. My ex lives in Olympia, Washington, so my guess is between Washington and B.C. there’s a lot of forgiveness.”

related: to have and to hold

Filching someone’s McDonald’s coupons…the “aggressive” flipside of the passive-aggressive offering of coupons for fitness DVDs?

“The person who sent this e-mail is actually a great and very well-liked individual at my place of work,” our submitter says. (Assuming, I guess, that one doesn’t come between him and his Egg McMuffins.)

related: sympathy for the devil

extra credit: Shaking things up at Dairy Queen

Sadly, not everyone shares Angela’s compassion for the portly.

At Julie’s office in Alexandria, Virginia, one employee decided to formalize his or her grudge against artificial sweeteners (and us fatties who love them) with a little help from the reception desk label-maker. Protests Julie: “Hey, some of us just like our sucralose, okay? Or maybe we’re diabetic!”

(In one office break room in the Twin Cities, meanwhile, the sugar packets themselves do the talking…)

And across town at a different office in St. Paul, the office manager (“a fitness freak,” according to our submitter) takes the (relatively) constructive approach with her fellow employees — who are, our submitter agrees, “a bunch of lard-ass geeks who don’t exercise.” Um, thanks?

related: Do your stairs think you’re fat?

Claire and her mom found this relic of childhood while going through a filing cabinet over Christmas. “Neither of us know what prompted it,” Claire says, “though apparently I was mad enough about something to write her this note, but not mad enough to go to bed without her telling me goodnight. Boy, was I one passive-aggressive 11-year-old!”

related: I’ll have you know