Cindy and her friend had a falling out. The ex-friend then sent Cindy this message on Facebook. Something tells me this post isn’t going to be the olive branch that brings them back together.

If you missed it, Act 1 is where this saga begins. Here, we see Richard G. Sell’s frustration grow to a fever pitch…

And it continues with Act 3…

Jenny insists this note wasn’t just because the dude wouldn’t take her request for “Toxic.” (“The DJ really sucked!”)

I don’t want to oversell this, but the following series of three signs (sent in by a health-club patron who wishes to remain nameless) just became my new all-time favorite. I love so many things about Richard G. Sells’s first masterpiece (below) that I don’t even know where to begin.

The best part, I think, might be the Freudian slip mid-way through (“…without getting any of the crap in the toilet stool itself.”)

But it doesn’t end there! Read acts 2 and 3.

This lovely petri dish courtesy of Ben, who explains: “While living in a house in London with 17 people from all over the world, things become way too green. This had to be done every once in a while in order to remind others not to overpopulate our kitchen with new living organisms.”

related: Maybe someone can do this dishes?

Thanks to Rachel for bringing to light another key battleground for office passive-aggressives: the thermostat.

related: This is your friend the thermostat

The visual aid here is genius, and I love the piggyback note. (Once two people join in, the whole thing has a tendency to spiral out of control into a massive anonymous bitchfest.)

Spotted by Steve.

UPDATE: the sign-maker writes in to claim his handiwork! Oliver explains:

I was horrified at this state, but I also did not want to be labeled as the person that left the toilet in this state. I wanted to clean up the mess but then how would I communicate my disgust to the unknown person that actually did it? So this was my solution. Document the offense including time found and then clean up.

Like I said: genius.

At first glace, this notice  — from an auto shop somewhere between New York and Atlantic City — doesn’t seem to fit the criteria for a passive-aggressive note (observe the absence of faux niceties like “please” or “thanks!!!”), but the pseudo-helpful clarification (“this means pants + shirts as a single unit…”) helps inch it just over the line.

This card came with a box of homemade mandelbrot from my very own passive-aggressive Jewish grandmother.