I read Lou Milano's blog about the delicious pastry that's available in the radio station's vending machine. I was going to rescue the poor little fella from its metal coffin when I saw a note with my name and a couple of F-Bombs on the microwave.

I was mortified! What did I do? Did I accidentally leave my Broccoli and Brussel Sprout stir-fry in there too long? Were my socks still in there from the Winter storm?

Good thing that I noticed "Accountant Dave" was the target of this rage, because I was almost raging myself. We don't even have an accounting department here at i95, and I know even less about tuna fish casserole. Tuna fish is the one bounty of the ocean that I despise.

This hasn't really been a big problem here -- our worst stinky food offender no longer works with us. There are still some days where there is a funk in the microwave, though.

This building is notorious for passive-aggressive notes. If you go into our bathrooms, you'll find "Please replace the Damn(ed) toilet paper!". In the hallway, there is the "If you open this closet, shut it" And, for some reason, in the other crapper, there is a photo of Ethan and Lou photoshopped into a Breaking Bad scene, but that's besides the point.

Is it that tough to ask someone to stop microwaving stank fish? Who puts up these notes? I think it would be pretty easy to follow your nose to the offender and say "Listen ____, a head cheese and tripe sandwich may be delicious, but for God's sake, take it outside!"