Stamped: October 20th, 2005 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: complaint dept., friends and losers.
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You know what I really appreciate? What really makes me feel warm inside? I'll tell you. It's when someone takes time out of her busy schedule to write me a nice little note saying "Please do your dishes" or "Would you mind taking out the garbage one of these days?". She could have just talked to me in person, but she went to all the trouble of writing a polite Post-It, in neat block letters, and sticking it in my bedroom door. So lovely! I only wish I knew who to thank.
See, I live in a house with four other girls, and whenever anyone has a problem with anyone else, they leave an anonymous note on a counter or mirror. I understand the reasons behind these notes. I just don't understand why they're so fucking passive-aggressive. It's not cool. It's not original. I mean, anyone can be passive-aggressive. Hell, I managed to be passive-aggressive for the whole first paragraph before I started hating myself. If I wanted to write some sneaky Post-Its, well, I totally could. For example, you know, just off the top of my head, here a few:
But I wouldn't ever do that, because, like Summer said to snotty Taylor on The O.C. last week: "Just because you're saying really mean things in, like, a really nice voice, doesn't make you any less of a stupid skank!" Except my roommates aren't stupid. Or skanky. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best possible analogy. But really, the fact that these nice, smart girls feel the need to leave anonymous, fake-polite notes all over the place, but don't have the balls to leave their names as well, confuses the hell out of me. Although if they did have balls, that would be even more confusing. Um, let's just forget about this whole paragraph.
The point is, girls are bitches, but they don't want to look like bitches. Most girls, anyway. Me, I like to think I've embraced my bitchy side. If I'm going to say something I don't mean, I'm going to say it in such a bitingly sarcastic tone that only the blondest of blondes could think I was honestly impressed by her ingenious pairing of Uggs with a pink mini and a Juicy tee.
And for some reason, that really does make me feel warm inside.
Last 5 posts by Tessa
passive aggressive shit really gets on my nerves. what IS it with the notes? the notes without signatures even! that’s worse.
i feel your pain.
I KNOW! Thank you.
Hi i am uh not really understanding your blondie comment. I mean I am blonde and i think that uh outfit you described looks really good together. I wore it last weekend! I got a lot of hot comments from lots of girls who really thought my look was so together. I could tell they were sincere. I mean wouldn’t they tell me they thought I looked bad or something? My boyfriend suggested though that the boots were not right, but I just new he was trying to calm down my hot look. He just wouldn’t tell me, now that is passive agressive don’t you think? He probably just didn’t want other guys looking at my hot legs. OH well, I am sorry you have bitchy roomates, you should room in with some great blondes, we never tell lies or stuff, we are always really honest with each other. You probably have redheads and brunettes living with you and I bet they don’t look hot either, or just aren’t as smart as you think but YOU would never tell them that. bye
OK. Roommates in general. I live with a guy. We were friends in college and I’m friends with his girlfriend so when he needed somewhere to live in this city I thought hey sure why not. Turns out he’s a total control freak, moody, and while he doesn’t put up Post-its, he’s still got the passive-aggressive thing going on. And one of my roommates in college was pretty bad…. I’m so jealous of these two friends of mine who are best friends and they live together, and they never have any problems. I wish it weren’t financially impossible to live by myself, but then I’d probably be really lonely. Apparently there’s no right answer!
Two things strike me … First, I think you are much too harsh on the passive-aggressive approach to life. It’s really quite an effective one, though I agree it can be a bit disagreeable when you’re on the wrong end of it. But personally, I’ve been much more effective using it than when screaming incoherent obscenities.
Second … the post it note business – I see your problem. It’s really quite simple. You read them. That’s a mistake. I don’t. Later, if asked about it, I reply, “Was I suppose to read that? Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you knew. I read books. Newspapers. E-mail. Letters. Blogs. I assume post it notes are placed as convenient book marks for those of us who read. In fact, I was very pleased to find yours because I had made a start on the latest John Irving novel but had to set it aside – yet I had no bookmark! Then, I saw the fridge and your note and thought – gosh, I’m so glad there’s someone looking out for me.”
To put it more clearly, though less congenially, if you don’t have the balls to say it to my face, too bad for you. Don’t waste your time on a post it because I ain’t gonna be reading it. What a dumbass way to communicate.
Jeezus. I can’t even imagine what rooming with FOUR women is like. My patience maxes out at 1. (Less than 1, usually)
My solution: A Sharpie.
That’s right.
Since you’re all going to avoid confrontation, you might as well write fatter and bolder and darker post-it notes. That way, your point will come across that much stronger.
I used to live with three other girls, myself, and they’d leave notes like that all of the time. And not knowing who it was, just made me hate them all equally.
And then, not only that, but they’d talk about it behind my back, like “Oh, Ingrid didn’t take out the trash this week,” then one of them would come to me and say, “Hey, she’s really pissed at you because you didn’t take out the trash this week.” And I’d be like, “Well why the fuck didn’t she say that to my face, if she’s SO upset about it?” Argh.
Must. Breathe.
Yes, Ingrid. YES. That is EXACTLY what it’s like. You boys, you try, but you just don’t get it.
My Mum shared with some fellow nurses before she married my Dad, one of her flatmates labelled all her food as her own, so no one else would eat her food. She even wrote her name in felt tip pen on her eggs in the fridge.
I used to leave notes now and then, but I signed the shit. Actually, the only reason I ever left any notes was if the person wasn’t home so I could just tell them.
One time my roommate from back in the day left this god-fucking-awful-looking bowl of something that looked like a merge between cookie dough and then contents of a dead dog’s ass. “What the *fuck* is this?! Clean it up! - Chris.” Yeah, I really used asterisks too.