Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Thanks to everyone for their happy thoughts and gay jokes.
I don’t want the RT to become a theme blog, an arena in which other dudes can disseminate the finer points of pregnancy from the father-to-be’s point of view. But as with EVERY OTHER part of my life, I think we can expect this site to change towards that end at least a tad. If it gets too baby-tinted for you though, give me a few days, go read Scott Adam’s blog in the meantime, and I promise I’ll be back to bitching about radio stations or praising good cartoons soon enough.
Speaking of which, Buffalo radio stations are the reason stupid people exist, and Avatar: the Last Airbender really is awesome.
Monday, November 28, 2005
If you, like my grandmother, don’t immediately recognize the above pic, it’s a baby. My baby. Lisa’s and my baby. Oh good God in Heaven, I’m going to be a father.
Jesus, the emotional weight of typing that was heavy enough. Am I going to buckle when you add to that the X pounds, Y ounces of actual baby? Well, I’ve got until July 2006 to prep, so let the mental work out begin…
Here’s the minimum of what you need to know until I can come up with something more poetic:
Lisa’s been preggers for about 7 weeks now.
Her grandfather foretold it to her great aunt in a dream.
No, we don’t have any names picked out yet, but we’re working on it.
We made the announcement on Thursday – to Lisa’s family at dinner, and to mine at dessert. It was perhaps the first time I’ve ever seen my mother in law speechless.
I know only a father can recognize it, but I swear the fetus above is wearing a tiny superman tee shirt. They make capes measured by millimeters, yes?
Thursday, November 24, 2005
No, you definitely had to be there.
By the way, Happy Thanksgiving!
Monday, November 21, 2005
Combine sleeping in with snappy tuxes with heavy drinking with dancing like asses with more drinking with proud parents, sappy speeches, weeping new husbands, and bear hugs aplenty and you’ve got a pretty good day on your hands. I got to dance with my wife, with whom I am madly in love, and I got to have a conversation with my dad, who surely knew I was drunk but didn’t seem to mind. I got to walk my sister down the aisle, which was covered with a white runner (I’ll never understand why the runner is used, but since I got to be one of the guys to lay it down, I hereby proclaim it to have been a more important component in the ceremony). I made the best men laugh when the priest’s phone rang DURING THE MASS. I wonder if the more technophilic of the clergy give God his own ringtone? I’m told the Almighty is a big Hendricks fan.
And damn, we looked good. They ladies were stunning as they ran into a bar to use the bathroom. The men were very James Bond as they loaded up the trolley with something like a billion cases of beer. The parents of the bride and the parents of the groom were decked out in the best of the best, but outfits all around were overshadowed by toothy, goofy grins and teary eyes. And I, in my bow tie and suspenders, was ravishing, as to be expected.
To those who haven’t yet been married, I’ll let you in on a secret. There’s a moment during the day (for me, it was when I was announced into the reception with my new wife) when it hits you that the village that raised you has made the effort of gussying up and all coming into one room, and not just because of the free eats. The whole crowd is there to bare testament to the day and to their relationship to you, to both of you. Even if you aren’t the kind of person who enjoys being the center of attention (moi?), this is a lovely and startling realization, and it’ll wash over you and through you and it’ll only be interrupted when you turn your attention away from the crowd and are instead mesmerized by the fancily-dressed person holding your hand. Or when the priest’s phone rings. That was hilarious.
Steve and Aly’s shindig was the perfect example of this – a room full of people who were just as proud of them as their closest relatives. Have fun in Ireland, kids.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Here's to my law school buddy, Cliff, who went and become a daddy last night. His daughter had the good taste to be born exactly one month shy of my birthday. Everyone, by the way, is happy and healthy.
Here's to my old Chicago buddy, Matt, who finally managed to track me down even though he lives in Palm Beach, FL. Here's to both of us (and Mr. Beers) for escaping the pyramid scheme job where we met.
Here's to South Park, which was hilarious last night.
Here's to my other law school buddies who have finally bent to the will of the universe and are now calling me "Garvey". I didn't ask them to, in fact I can't say I've ever asked anyone to. It just happens. I contend Alex didn't know I had a first name until after we graduated.
Here's to my buddy, Anonymous Driver of a Grand Prix, who was cool enough to let me merge onto the 90 this morning. You, my friend, are not what you drive, and therefore deserve thanks on a Geggy Tah level.
Kudos to Lisa for beating me at chess.
Kudos to Meg for being a lawyer for reals. Take that, New York State Bar!
Kudos to me for picking clothes out in the dark this morning. No, I didn't notice the stain on my shirt until I got through two different conversations and yes I had to have a serious debate with myself as to which is worse: stained button down or ratty superman tee-shirt. I went with the tee. Considering what's on TV tonight, I think I made the right decision.
Kudos to John Williams, just because.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
As you all know, Mike is quite the poetic kid. He always has been, and he often used his talents to write commemorative poetry for mother's day and other special occasions. I don't remember what I did to deserve a poem of my own, but he was in 7th grade when he gave this to me:
(I know it isn't Christmas,
and Easter's a it away.
It isn't yet your bithday,
or Yak Shaving Day.
"So why are you giving me this present?",
is your very first thought.
Well, there isn't much of a reason really,
I thought of it while on the pot...)
"Ode to Esther...Come in Esther" by Mike-the all knowing
"E" is for Every Joe
that you have ever known.
"A" ... just kidding.
"S" is for the Sundays in church
where mom will sing of tone.
"T" is for That fatefull night
when we laughed at Barry's rear.
"H" is for the many Holes
that are drilled into your ear
"E" is for the Eyes
that mom's sunglasses never cover
"R" is for Regas Feldman
who is Mike M's secret lover
(Well, the poem's done and over with,
I hope it's something you like.
In fact I hope you liked it so much
that you will lend me your bike.
Just kidding, I hope you really liked it.
'Hope you ate it up like a shark!
There are a couple things I forgot to put in though,
such as "'B' is for Mrs. Stark"?)
I think it loses something in translation because you can't see the authentic 1989 dot matrix printer font. Mike, I'm counting on you to explain the subtle meanings of this masterpiece in your next post :)
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Come on, now.
Admittedly, I don’t really know the whole story behind the Aquaman character. I could tell you pretty much anything you wanted to know about the Superman mythos, but when it comes to the King of Atlantis, I really just know what the Super Friends told me. Oh, and that I know a guy who knows the guy who invented him. (I get major geek points for that.) So will the Aquaman story translate into the WB format? Does it matter?
Read the article if you want, but if you’ve seen the Smallville show, you already know what’s ahead for the superhero’s environment: Take a dash of some tried and true American folk hero, throw in the setting from The O.C., marinate with a love interest who cries a lot, spice with product placement after product placement, and let simmer until all lead actors make it into some Steve Martin movie. Bon appetite!
Monday, November 14, 2005
There are, however, two different instances when I must admit that I feel nervousness for a performer. One is for the guy/woman singing the Canadian national anthem at a hockey game. I was once asked by my principal in 4th grade to lead the entire school in the Pledge of Allegiance, and yes, I forgot the words. Oh, I know that embarrassment intimately, and I can’t imagine having to memorize the words of ANOTHER country’s anthem, and then sing it to a bunch of people who are already crazed up in the spirit of competition.
Secondly, and I’ll be the first to say this is insane, but for the life of me I can’t listen to a news interview (radio or television) without wondering how the guy is going to say goodbye. I’m bad at this to begin with. I’m known far and wide for my ability to mistakenly combine “so long!” and “take care!” into “take long!” I’d feel so bad for an interviewee if he finished making some intelligent point on genetics or gourd farming or the 1840s and then ended his call with “Your pleasure, Steve. I mean, my welcome. I mean, I’m an idiot, don’t listen to me.”
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Life is like a hurricane – here in Duckburg!
Race cars, lasers, air-o-planes – It's a duck blur!
Might solve a mystery - or rewrite history! Ducktales! Woo-oo!
Everyday they're out there making Ducktales! Woo-oo!
Tales of daring, new, bad and good luck tales...
D-d-d-danger lurks behind you!
There's a stranger out to find you!
What to do? Just grab on to some Ducktales! Woo-oo!
Everyday they're out there making Ducktales! Woo-oo!
Tales of daring, new, bad and good luck tales! Woo-oo!
Not pony tales, or cotton tales, no: Ducktales! Woo-oo!
Saturday, November 12, 2005
After traveling to Ireland to buy presents for all their friends, Steve and his bride, Aly, will make their home somewhere on planet earth, so long as it allows little yappy dogs. Steve will make his millions as a manager in some high falootin’ bank or something and Aly is to become the first person ever to pass the bar in all 50 states and whatever the equivalent is in Canadia. They are to be married next week amongst loving friends and family and then will drink like it is their job and dance like they’re good at it. The second most important decision they made after his FINALLY proposing to begin with) was to include Michael Garvey as a groomsman because, let’s face it, he looks damn good in a tux. The bridegroom is a graduate of college (both “clown” and “barber”) and the bride has obtained a degree from the school of hard knocks.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
The Four Month Anniversary, as everyone knows, is the Public Bathroom Story Anniversary, so in honor of that, voila:
The men’s bathroom on the second floor of the University at Buffalo Law School smells bad. I mean, I think they should market to Tupperware that room’s ability to keep fresh air from circulating in, because I’m pretty sure the poo smells that exist in that potty have been there since the dawn of time. People reading about Jesus v. Romans as a current event left a mark in that bathroom that lingers today.
Suffice it to say, no one wants to hang out in there any longer than they need to, especially me. So when I walked in this morning, I was faced with an ethical and hygienical decision. I’m a bit of a germ freak to begin with, so washing my hands is a must. Upon doing so, though, I noticed that there was not a scrap of paper towel left in any of the dispensers. Do I use the warm air dryer, or should I spend my time doing more useful activities, like poking myself in the eye with a sharp stick?
Here’s my thinking:
Good thing about warm air dryer: it’s environmentally friendly
Good thing about warm air dryer: it’s hygienically beneficial
Good thing about warm air dryer: let’s face it, I am an adult, and would rather not walk around with wet hands.
Bad thing about warm air dryer: THEY DON’T WORK. They simply give you a place to stand while the water evaporates from your hands. I’m telling you, it’s a placebo.
Besides, they take too long, and remember I’m in the stink-factory. I weighed my options and used the warm air dryer anyway. A few minutes later, my hands were still moist, and my mind was split between two thoughts: 1) those endurance tests they put you through in boot camp, and 2) the relative absorbent power of my pant legs. Yeah, that’s right. I’m man enough to admit that I ended up reverting to the tried and true childhood method of “wipe-hands-on-pants”, but I’m also man enough to admit that I carefully stayed away from my crotchal area, just in case anyone thinks I wee-weed on myself.
Happy anniversary, LG!
Monday, November 07, 2005
I’ve been thinking a lot about my trip to Alaska lately and to help it along, I fixed the Pictures of Moosen site. I’ll gripe all day long about blogger, but I do have to give them credit for allowing me to host my pictures without using some other site. When I put Moosen together, I used a free server called Ripway that was easy enough to navigate, but unreliable at best.
Then, a few weeks ago, they up and erased my account. No notice as to why, no ability to reinstate it, no recourse but to start from scratch. Luckily, each picture left a footprint (the little red “x” that means your picture ain’t there) that told me what the name of the original file was, and through that I was able to guess which pics I’d used in each slot.
So go check it out again and laugh at Louis and John for being hungover and at me for catching minnows compared to their respective Monstros.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
What’s worse? Today’s class is 7 hours long, that’s what’s worse. My barbri review class on Contracts starts in a few minutes and I’m told it’ll go through to dinner time. I’m going to keep this document open and I’ll throw any points in as I think of them and have the time to do so. Wish me luck, here we go:
10:15am – people are still arriving. Turns out it’s a video lecture, so my teacher’s pet abilities are of no use today. The guy on the video looks like Lumbergh from Office Space. If we could go ahead and learn about contracts, that’d be greeeeeeat.
11:05am – first ten minute break. Lecturer was talking about taking a shower with Meg Ryan. Now THIS is teaching. In the first hour of instruction, I’ve taken 3 pages of notes at size 10 font. I’m on coffee number 2.
12:14pm – woo and hoo! We skipped a break so we can get out of here earlier. On page number 4 and coffee number 3 – bladder don’t fail me now!
1:17pm – lunch time…
1:44pm – since I didn’t realize this lecture was going to run so long, I didn’t brown-bag it today. But, I had time to run into the UB-corner-store-where-pricing-is-similar-to-airport-news-stands and grabbed a DC and a sandwich to get me through the afternoon. As we start up again, I’m on page 7 of my notes, and I’ve burned through 3 cups of coffee. Hmmm… after this coke, I think it’s time to switch over to water.
1:56pm – Lumbergh is now talking about the statute of frauds, but I swear the he keeps saying “Statute of Frogs”. It’s like one of his barbri buddies bet him a fiver that he wouldn’t meow all the way through his speech, or somehow manage to fit in “aluminum siding”, or at some point give the crowd the finger. Or maybe the statute of frogs is something I just don’t know about. If I had more time and space, I’d write about princesses and reasonable consideration given for kisses on which they promised to perform.
2:45pm – hoo boy, this is getting old. I’m on page 9 - only 639 hours left to go.
3:54pm – the last hour was about ten hours long. The proctor has announced that this’ll be our last break because we’re going to blow through the rest of the material from here on out. Better go grab a 3 musketeers to get me through. Mmm… big on chocolate, indeed. I’m through 11 pages of rigor-mortis- and carpal-tunnel-inducing notes.
4:52pm – done and done. Going home and home.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
- At least now we know the Home Depot glue works.
- No one saved him because all the associates were busy finding customers to help. And by “help”, I mean “avoid”.
- I always get saran wrap and glue mixed up.
- This wasn’t real. It was just a taping of American Pie IV. Eugene Levy was right around the corner.
- Home Depot: You can do it. We can help. Unless your ass is glued to a toilet seat.