where wildly different is perfectly normal
Finding the funny
Finding the funny

Finding the funny

I’ve been a serious Debby Downer the last several days, and while there is valid reason for that, it still sucks to live it. So today I decided I needed to start finding the funny. It might be deeply buried but the funny is there. It’s right next to the keys you swore were on top of the dresser, and right below the remote control you long ago gave up searching for and thusly canceled cable because you were too lazy to haul your ass four feet to change the channel.

Today’s funny is brought to you by the letters O-R-G-A-N-I-S-T and the numbers Holy Crap Stick With A Tempo I Don’t Care Which One But You Don’t Need To Slow Down The End Of Every Hymn Verse Especially When It’s A Caribbean-style Hymn.

It needed more cowbell.

But the true laugh to the point of hysteria came this afternoon. Dear, dear friends from Colorado were in town for a memorial service and came over for a few hours. These friends are special. Sarah was a student of both mine and Tom’s, and her children also fall into the “so quirky mom must drink to cope” category as well. They taught us to roll sushi, and I have saved a fortune in restaurant bills from that little lesson. Good friends, and I miss them terribly.

They know A, have known him since birth. They know his intense curiosity, his intense personality, his intense intensity. They have also witnessed firsthand his dive into all things technological, especially concerning Apple products. They know he is a hacker of the highest (ten year old) degree.

A set up a music party in the lower level for the kids. Turned on iTunes, cranked up his tunes, all was well.

Until we got sick to death of hearing the same piece over and over and for the love of all things holy over.

And then I remembered a little trick he once played on me.

If you use iTunes, and have an iDevice with Remote on it, you can control iTunes with your iDevice. Pretty snazzy. A loves to control my iTunes from his iPod, and it never fails to startle me when suddenly my computer blasts out music. Damned kid.

He forgot it works both ways.

I cranked up the Remote app on my iPhone…and turned down the volume on his music. Then changed the piece playing. Again. And again. And again.

He never caught on and kept yelling at J to quit messing with his music, never once suspecting the adults in hysterics upstairs.

I haven’t laughed that hard in ages. Tears, pouring out from under my glasses, smearing mascara all over my cheeks.

A still doesn’t know, I ain’t talkin’, and you bet your sweet ass I’ll do this again and again and for the love of all things holy again.

Who knew my funny would be inside my iPhone.

Apparently there’s an app for that.


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