I just recalled a copy of Michel de Certeau's The Practice of Everyday Life from the MIT library, and can't stop reading it -- not so much because of what de Certeau is saying (as interesting as that is) but because of the little moments of marginalia-induced irony on every page. Like this one:
Or this one:
Or, a subtle one, but perhaps my favorite:
Although the introduction is heavily marked up, the notes peter off toward the end of the book. By the time you get to Chapter 12, "Reading as Poaching," they've disappeared completely.