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Posts Tagged ‘hilarity’

via, with special thanks to Aminatou at Instaboner.

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DCist posted a link to Passiveaggressivenotes.com and it’s my new favorite internet time waster.

Oh, Sandra

This one is my favorite so far – Sandra starts out with a simple request for the dirty mens not to bring their stinky man poops into the scientifically proven (I actually agree with her on that point) cleaner ladies’ private lounge where ladies go to do their private business which is VERY VERY PRIVATE.

Emboldened by the first half of her note, it would seem, Sandra then takes the opportunity to vent about the last time there was a “potluck” and people did not “bring” enough food. The full post has some interesting background info about Casey in Human Resources.

Some of the notes remind me of last year when I lived with four students, three of whom were undergraduates. We had a white board on the refrigerator. Passive-aggressive notes abounded and I was not immune to the thrill of writing a semi-anonymous tirade.

Once when taking out the garbage, I sliced open my leg on a piece of broken glass some infantile moron had put in the bag (instead of, you know, taking it out immediately or wrapping it in paper or cardboard, like any normal person who knew anything about life might do). I left a note and a dry erase marker rendition of my bleeding calf.

Fortunately my current roommate and I do not leave notes; we’re passive-aggressive to each others faces.

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To second SB’s post, the Green Fest totally sucked. Sure, you get lots of eco-swag, but putting up with self-righteous green hippie bullshit is not worth the complimentary forest-scented, paraben-, pthalate- and paba-free SPF 60 trial size body lotions in biodegradable containers.

Need proof? Here’s a conversation I overheard while getting a hot cuppa yerba mate from the Guayak√≠ booth, which featured blaring drum beats or reggae jams and two white alterna-dudes and a dudette who simultaneously grooved to the sweet tunes while serving up some heady juice of the gods. I present to you: one hippie’s story of his first taste of yerba mate:

So I was over at my friends house for a jam session, you know, a little jazz. And he is always really into like expanding consciousness, and he hands me this green drink, and I’ll try anything so I tasted it and I was like WHOAAAA! I mean, I had never tasted anything like that–and I am from the Pacific Northwest. My palette was amazed. Like, never even in my past lives had I tasted something like that. It was truly Revolutionary.

In honor of this awfulness (and to survive the day without lacing someone’s patchouli with hydrochloric acid) SB and I composed a few haikus:

Men with ponys and

braids love indie magazines

what is up with that?

Extra PC peeps

Rather wait in huge line than

Use handicapped stall

Maybe I’ll submit them to Teas Tea haiku contest.

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