PassiveAggressiveNotes.com — funny (if not necessarily "passive-aggressive") notes from pissed-off people

Exes and Ohs

Kerry — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 21:30:22 +0000

It all started when Erin in Toronto sent her uncle a Christmas card. Actually, scratch that — it all started three years ago, at Erin’s wedding, the last time Erin actually saw her uncle in person.

Before the wedding, Erin explains, “Linda (my uncle’s girlfriend) RSVP’d that she’d attend, and then then didn’t bother to show up, meaning we had to pay for her meal anyway.” (Not that she’s bitter about that or anything!) “Since then,” Erin says, “I assumed they had broken up and have addressed the annual Christmas card to just my uncle and cousin.”

Now, while that might sound a bit hasty (or even, dare I say…passive-aggressive), in Erin’s defense, the Christmas cards she received were only signed by her uncle and cousin — this year’s included. And yet, in what appears to be a last-minute back-of-the-envelope calculation, “Linda chose this year to remind me that she was still kicking around,” Erin says.

On the flip side of things, receiving mail addressed to one’s ex can be a disturbing experience as well. I’d say this intercepted message speaks for itself.

Little Dippers and Effeminate Stationery, Inc.

Kerry — Thu, 29 Jul 2010 02:11:49 +0000

Spotted by Kelly at gas station somewhere between Los Angeles and Monterey, California: a prime example of why notewriters (and corporations) cannot live on spell-check alone.

related: Stupid is as stuiped does

“Testosterone-fueled wackjobs make the darndest threats!”

Kerry — Wed, 28 Jul 2010 04:03:54 +0000

For the folks who found yesterday’s “do not come in” post a bit too “kids say the darndest things” precious, I figured I’d better even things out with a look at what happens when those neglected jealous siblings grow up…and get armed.

Exhibit A, spotted by Heather at a gas station in Gastonia, North Carolina

Exhibit B, which Steve found pinned to a tree in Athens, Ohio (where, while visiting friends, he stumbled upon the property of the local necrophiliac farmer)

And lastly, Exhibit C, spotted by Dex outside a “fairly dilapidated” house in Raleigh, North Carolina

related: The right to bear fruit

The firstborn, dethroned

Kerry — Tue, 27 Jul 2010 01:40:21 +0000

I think it’s actually pretty amazing how Kathy’s six-year-old daughter — feeling a wee bit neglected now that there’s a baby brother on the scene — has managed to capture the love/hate essence of the “I’m no longer an only child” crisis in words, however adorably misspelled. (As the oldest of four kids myself, my mother will never let me forget that my method of expressing those feelings — temper tantrums — was considerably less cute.)

extra credit: “Does Birth Order Matter?” [nytimes.com]

It’s my pity party, and I’ll whine if I want to

Kerry — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 02:24:37 +0000

If I had to choose the one thing I hate most about Facebook, I think it would have to be how it’s normalized the narcissistic idea that the day you were born (and increasingly the entire week/month leading up to it) is somehow an annual event of earth-shattering importance…and (part two), how it has turned into a venue for people who share that idea to host their own pity parties, like so:

Of course, some of those people prefer the prematurely pissy approach — this message, for example, was apparently posted at 10:50 the day before her birthday:

But on Facebook, the “proactively setting the bar low” approach (as opposed to proactively setting the bar high) might yield better results…that is, if your friends still pity you enough to put with your juvenile bullshit.

The most unpleasant of pleasantries

Kerry — Fri, 23 Jul 2010 02:25:16 +0000

So, Jen in Ontario, Canada just moved into a new shared living arrangement…with a 50-something lady. “I thought having an older person as a roommate would more peaceful,” she explains. “Turns out I was wrong.” Communication skills, it seems, aren’t one of those things that necessarily improve with age.

Within a week of moving in, Jen says, there were “helpful instructions” taped up all around the house. After that, the notes just kept coming, accusing Jen of everything from filling the dishwasher with soy sauce to sabotaging the tea kettle — always book-ended by a “Pls” and “Thank you,” of course. Because that’s how mature adults act.

related: The Post-it Wars

The bathroom battle of the sexes…a true race to the bottom.

Kerry — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 03:47:00 +0000

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

Excuse me, I’m here to file a restraining order on behalf of my house plant

Kerry — Wed, 21 Jul 2010 03:10:34 +0000

“My next-door neighbor has some problems with controlling her rage,” says Guy in Austin. So when the apartment manager wouldn’t force her upstairs neighbors to take down their bird feeder — on the grounds that the resulting bird crap from above constituted plant harassment — she wasn’t about to let the issue drop quietly.

Meanwhile, Lucas brings us this report of a uncontrollable botanophile on the loose at his office in Toronto.

The 53rd Annual Punctuation Posse Round-up

Kerry — Tue, 20 Jul 2010 02:18:08 +0000

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

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]

Daddy, why are all the cages empty?

Kerry — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 22:11:48 +0000

You’re a zookeeper. You’re sick of answering the same damn question all day long. How do you handle it?

Well, there’s the PC approach…

The pedantic approach…

And then there’s my personal favorite, the German approach.

(Thanks to Gina in Cincinnati, Sarah in Los Angeles, and Andrea in Berlin for their submissions!)

related: Don’t die; it’s expensive

Fetch. Roll over. DON’T SIT.

Kerry — Thu, 15 Jul 2010 03:24:13 +0000

Amanda in Charlestown, Mass. lives in a three-story home with an apartment on each floor and a shared patio out back. “Our downstairs neighbor is notorious for leaving us notes — ‘Don’t slam the door,’ ‘The patio is not a storage area,’ etc. — but this note topped them all,” Amanda says. ”Oh, and she clearly cannot spell.”

I am clearly too busy writing notes, so could somebody less important than me take care of this?

Kerry — Wed, 14 Jul 2010 03:05:03 +0000

One reason that notes of the do this/move this/clean this variety inspire so much ire among recipients is the fact that, more often than not, writing the note probably took more time and effort than it would have for the writer to just do/move/clean it themselves. (But of course, to the martyrs in the office, it’s always about the principle of the thing.) Office kitchens seem to be ground zero for this particular type of pettiness.

At Jacqueline’s workplace in San Francisco, for example, “someone left a clean mug on an empty counter” — an offense that was apparently too grave for one coworker to let slide without comment.

Meanwhile, in Ohio, our anonymous submitter came into work one morning to see this note “on a table with maybe two crumbs on it.” Her solution? “I took the picture, put the cleaning supplies away, and moved the note. Later, I was thanked for cleaning the table.”

related: BAD SALAMI!

Excuse me, do these effectively hide my thunder?

Kerry — Tue, 13 Jul 2010 02:18:43 +0000

So, according to Susan and Amber, there’s a creeper on the loose in Orlando, Florida…one who has a penchant for peering in the bathroom windows of his female neighbors. (In this case, a window that some brilliant architect decided to position essentially in the shower.)

Of course, there’s always another side to the story.

So, how ever could Susan and Amber resolve this tomato/tomahto dispute (aside from, you know, buying curtains)? Dr. Tobias Fünke, never-nude, to the rescue!

related: Be more private with yourself