Things that have cracked me up as of late

1) Abbey and Nik got a postcard from their Grandma Sue (my mom), mailed from the Alabama Gulf Coast, where she and her hubby have recently bought a li'l plot of land. Abbey of course asked me to read it out loud for her.

Me: [reading] "...and then [at the beach] we searched for crabs with flashlights. Love, Grandma Sue."
Abbey: Ahhh. [smiles; pause, as the smile fades] Waaaiiiit a minute...there are no crabs with flashlights!

2) During my Sunday Oneonta visit, I got to hang out with vaclav2 and Amy, my old and dear friends who had flown out for the weekend. It didn't take long to remember why I miss them: over lunch with vaclav2 at the Corfu Diner, he glanced at my Reuben and fries for a bit before announcing, "Okay, it's time for a visual pun." He took both our knives and held them up right next to my sandwich. I stared at this array for about five seconds, then nearly fell out of my chair laughing.

I've always said that we keep each other around just because we're the only ones who get each other's jokes.

That's Mixmaster Adam to you, cupcake.

I seem to have developed a reputation among people I've never even met.

To give a little background, a few years ago (in a fit of delirium) I made something called "The Young Alchemist's Handbook," which was pretty much the Mix Tape from Hell. It consisted of four 110-minute tapes, and contained 115 songs by 115 different artists. I mean, this thing was ridiculous, but I was inordinately proud of it. Anyroad, I duped myself two copies, one for a local friend, and one for me. Eventually, however, I ended up giving away my copy to my good friend Betsy, who lives in Oneonta.

Fast-forward to this past Sunday, at Betsy's graduation party. I quickly come to find out that the mix in question has been, shall we say, popular: there are apparently about five or six second-generation tape copies floating around, made for friends of hers who had to have their own set. And if that weren't enough, one friend saw fit to convert all four tapes to MP3 format, then burn them onto eight CDs. So when the time came to meet her friends, she would introduce me thus: "[insert name], this is Adam. He did 'The Young Alchemist's Handbook." Said friend would then say something to the effect of, "Oh, my GOD! Great music!" One woman began genuflecting. A couple clamored to have the tapes brought outside so we could listen to them during the party.

I'm officially overwhelmed, and feeling more than a little undeserving. I'm also planning out the sequel.