I am a sex worker. I know, boring right? We've heard the tale already, and mine doesn't have an interesting twist either, but I feel an overwhelming urge to make it a legitimate issue. I crave a way to tackle it legally rather then experiencing it as a conversational piece over drinks in a detached theological formula with people who already believe in its decriminalization. I'm so sick of speaking about it in an abstract way and always ending up with the same conclusion: “Yeah things need to change, but what can you do? It is what it is.” Someone point me in the right direction! I'm motivated, and I'm not embarrassed to put myself in front of my words. —Show Me How to be the Change I Want to See

I did a boo boo. I went forward and the road was almost blocked but you did manage to get by. Nevertheless I admit I should have stayed put. But then you laid on the horn and kept on it for half a block after you passed me. You know that's uncool too right? I think you were offended that my dirty little Yaris almost blocked your Mercedes SLK. Cry me a fucking river. —Traffic criminal

Do you smoke? Keep reading. Are you a considerate smoker? And by considerate, I mean you don't smoke near building entrances or at bus stops or in crowds, and you smoke downwind so your smoke doesn't bother anyone else, and you put your cig butts in the garbage. OK, you're off the hook, with my thanks - smoke in peace.

The rest of you, pay attention: you don't own the world! Streets are not your personal garbage can. The second-hand smoke you produce is disgusting. And buses are not your personal smoking cars.

I am really sick and tired of feeling really sick and tired when I get home from work simply because some idiot smoker HAD to have that one last puff just before stepping on to the bus at the last possible second. Most of the time you take that puff just outside the bus door, and I swear you hold your breath so that you blow out most of the smoke when you come in the door - gee, thanks. But the worst part is when you always manage to sit right next to me, or behind me, or in front of me. You f--king STINK! It's nauseating! Opening the dinky little window three feet above our heads does nothing to improve things. And before you tell me to move, no, I can't move to another seat on a full bus, and you stink out the entire bus eventually, so f--k off in advance.

I don't have asthma, or allergies, or any life-threatening condition triggered by cigarette smoke. I'm lucky, I guess - the reek of it just makes me want to puke, that's all. But there are lots of people out there who do suffer from chronic conditions which smokers just make worse.

I'll never tell you to stop smoking. You started that stupid f--king habit, and the government loves all the taxes you pay, so go ahead - it's up to you. Get this through your thick skull, though: you can choose whether to smoke or not. I can't choose whether to breathe or not!

Take your smoke and your stench and save it for your house, your car, your kid, your cat, whatever. But keep your stinky sh-t away from public transit, major public thoroughfares, public buildings, etc. Don't want it, don't need it. And if you insist on bringing your stench on to my bus and I do happen to barf in your lap some day, don't say I didn't warn you. —Queasy Bus Rider

Seriously, boys. Lot of swiping and messengers going on, but not a single salacious pic. I'm disappointed. —Might just go to the Done

I always wonder if people posting bitches took the effort to confront the person causing them grief, was ignored and that's why they've resorted to posting a love the way we bitch.. it changes everything if they already approached the neighbours or not.. I'm missing information I need to feel indignation along with OP —Want to hate, but can't tell how much is deserved

Just so you know when you ran the red at Albro Lake and Windmill on Monday October 24th at apron 3:45 pm and almost killed me on my bike, there were folks there who aren't cowards and were watching. We saw you. Just so you know. —Bruised but not Out

To the person making loon-calls during each applause break at the Saturday HPX show at the Marquee - why?! The only birds you attracted were the proverbial flock of middle fingers barely resisting being flushed from the fists in the vicinity. I never knew a simple sound could send me into a flying rage, but it can, and you made it. Far be it beyond me to tell you that you CAN'T make bird-calls instead of the classic, show-appropriate whoops or wolf-whistles, but you definitely SHOULDN'T. —Nova Scotia Duck Trolled Retriever

To be dumb enough to put your dumb-ass, passive-aggressive, anonymous note on the wrong door. You meant to send this to my neighbor who has “three cars and a bike.” I don't know why you're too much of a coward to talk to these people face-to-face and have to use unsigned notes to show how angry you are, but have you even considered contacting the agency you mentioned in your dumbass note to report the activity you're soooo upset about? —Wrong Address

Picnicface was great. I loved going to their shows back when and still go see Mark Little and Andy Bush whenever they come through town, but it's time to move on. Every time there's a show even remotely funny happening in HRM the reviewer always opens with “Not since Picnicface.” Stop. They're gone now, have been for a while, aren't coming back anytime soon and you're doing a disservice to all the new talent around the city. Example: Chanel and Frank are two comics running shows every week in the city and are completely ignored. The Company House feels like an actual comedy club and their High Life show is turning people away at the door every week because it’s sold out. Yeah, they're not Picnicface, but Andy Bush was the one who told me to go see the shows and I almost never miss one since, so that must count for something. —Art Isn't Gentrification

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's people who don't say “Thank you” whenever I hold a door open for them! It really pisses me off! I'm not asking for your life's blood, nor am I asking for you to bow or curtsy to me. But there are two simple words which should be spoken. Seriously, I'm not kidding here! I'm not shy when it comes to saying “You're welcome,” when you clearly cannot be bothered to say “Thank you.” Or is that being too much to ask? —Disgruntled Door-Holder in Dartmouth