The unwritten rules of sharing a kitchen with a roommate are a delicate ecosystem. It’s a world of passive-aggressive notes, mysterious disappearances of leftover pizza, and silent battles over who should buy the next roll of paper towels. But a story sent to us by one reader shows what happens when one roommate tries to enforce his own set of rules with an iron fist… and a Dymo label maker. The result was a petty war of attrition that escalated to a level of absurdity neither of them could have predicted.
My new roommate, Kevin, is a perfectly nice guy, but he’s wound tighter than a grandfather clock. I learned this the hard way after our first joint trip to the grocery store. He came home and spent the next hour meticulously labeling every single item he bought. I thought it was a little crazy, so I decided to have some fun with it. I had no idea I was about to start the Great Label War of 2025.
The Reign of the Label Maker
It started with his organic, free-range eggs. A small, perfectly printed label read: “KEVIN’S EGGS – DO NOT CONSUME.” Then came “KEVIN’S MILK – NOT FOR SHARING.” Even a single, sad-looking avocado received the label “KEVIN’S AVOCADO.” His side of the fridge looked like a meticulously organized crime scene. I wasn’t going to eat his food, but the sheer, aggressive level of organization felt like a challenge.
So, I bought my own label maker. The next morning, he found a few additions. His milk now had a second label: “MAY CONTAIN TRACES OF MY LOST YOUTH.” His eggs were labeled, “EACH ONE HAS A NAME. DO NOT HARM GERALD.” My personal favorite was on his block of cheddar: “SEEING A THERAPIST ABOUT MY TRUST ISSUES.”
He was not amused. He silently removed my labels and replaced them with new, more direct ones: “SAM, THIS IS NOT A JOKE.” “SERIOUSLY, SAM, STOP.”
A New Challenger Appears
The war had begun. If he was going to label his territory, I was going to label the whole world. I started small. The TV remote became the “OFFICIAL CHAIRPERSON OF THE COUCH.” The toilet became the “MAJESTIC PORCELAIN THRONE.” He retaliated with passive-aggressive signs, taping a note to the clean dishwasher that said, “THIS IS WHAT ‘DONE’ LOOKS LIKE.” I put a label on the front door that read, “PORTAL TO A WORLD THAT DOESN’T LABEL ITS AVOCADOS.”
The back-and-forth went on for a week. The apartment became a tapestry of passive-aggression and absurdity. I knew I needed a grand finale, a final move to end the war once and for all. And I saw my opportunity in his most prized possession: a carton of ridiculously expensive, barista-blend oat milk.
The Great Oat Milk Recall of 2025
While Kevin was at work, I put my master plan into action. I drank his oat milk. Then, I carefully refilled the carton with regular 2% cow’s milk and placed it back in the fridge. The final touch was a very official-looking, custom-printed label I slapped on the front. It read:
“URGENT: VOLUNTARY PRODUCT RECALL – Lot #B47-K” “Reason: Potential cross-contamination at the packaging facility. Product may contain dairy (lactis bovis). We apologize for the inconvenience.”
That evening, I heard a gasp from the kitchen. I walked in to see Kevin holding the oat milk carton, his face pale with horror (he’s a very committed vegan). He looked at me, his eyes wide with panic. “Did you see this?!”
I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I burst out laughing and confessed everything. For a moment, he looked furious. But then, the absurdity of the situation finally hit him, and he started to laugh too. We ended up talking for an hour. He told me about past roommates who stole all his food, which is where his anxiety came from. I apologized for messing with his food and taking the joke too far. We declared a truce.
The apartment is now a blissfully label-free zone, and we’re actually good friends. But when I told this story to some of my coworkers, they said I was a massive jerk for bullying him and tampering with his food. I think I used humor to get my anxious roommate to loosen up. AITA for how I won the Great Label War?
This is a roommate cold war that, thankfully, thawed into a lasting peace. While one roommate’s anxiety manifested in a flurry of passive-aggressive labels, the other’s mischievous nature met the challenge with escalating absurdity. It was a risky strategy—messing with someone’s food is usually a declaration of war, not a peace offering. Yet, in this case, the over-the-top prank was so ridiculous that it finally broke the tension and forced them to actually communicate.
What do you think, readers? Was this a brilliant and hilarious way to deal with an uptight roommate, or did the prankster cross a line by tampering with his food? Share your thoughts below!
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