Thursday, June 29, 2006

Baby Fantasy League!

Alright, everyone, Survey Time. The person who wins will have my child named after them. No, wait, upon advice from my wife, this is not a good idea. The person who wins will have my child’s favorite stuffed animal named after them.

Little Harvey Garvey is due in exactly 17 days, and the boy/girl guesses are about evenly split right now. Wanna make a prediction? Fill in the blanks below, and either leave a comment here or email me at with your answers. Highest point count wins!

Legal Mumbo Jumbo: All submissions due by The Birthday or 7/13/06, whichever is first. If the young'n decides that the toy named after the winner of this contest is no longer his/her favorite once given your name, too bad for you, loser. Better luck with the survey for my next child.

1. Date of birth? (5 pts)
2. Time of birth? (5 pts)
3. Birth weight? (of the baby, not me.) (5 pts)
4. Gender? (10 pts)
5. First swear word Lisa utters during labor? (1 pt)
6. First drink Lisa asks for after labor? (1 pt)
7. Best description for Uncle Louis? a) wept tears of joy like a little girl, b) cried openly like niagara falls, or c) didn't cry until he was somehow roped into buying the first drink Lisa asked for after labor (1 pt)

Wednesday, June 28, 2006

Shower, shave, brush, wonder what my bathroom is really trying to say...

I’d be remiss in my blogging duties if I didn’t report on the Nissassa* wedding that went down without a hitch this past weekend.  And I say “without a hitch” because, being nontraditionalists, Beauregard and Kitty* didn’t actually get married this past weekend.  That romantic little task actually happened a few weeks previous IN FLORENCE.  Florence, Italy, not Florence, Wisconsin.

Anyway, it was an eye opening night for a few reasons.  For one, the Nissassa reception was held in the same hall, in the same room, with the same organizer that Lisa and I had almost a year ago.  One year?  Where the hell did that go?

Second, I took a gander at the Garvey Timeline going in the other direction and noticed that we were only three weeks away from BABY DAY.  I immediately put down my Waterfront Wheat and ordered a sobering soda.  

Last, Hoffman crashed on my couch so he could drink his ass off and not have to drive out to East Aurora looped up.  That in itself wasn’t very eye opening, but after he left, I noticed my bathroom was trying to tell me, via a sharpee marker, something about my sexual orientation.

Lisa’s shampoo tells me I’m gay.
My Mach3 Turbo package of razors tells me I’m gay.
The scale tells me I’m gay.
The baby powder tells me that if I put it on my privates, I’m gay.

More than likely, my bathroom has left me more subtle notes that I’ll pick up on later in the week.  If my hairbrush decides to bring up me liking dudes, I may just have to wonder if that Hoffman is boyfriend material.  

*Names changed to make them funnier.

Monday, June 26, 2006

Old Fogey Garvey makes an appearance

You kids and your technologies these days. Here’s where you’re wrong. Here’s where you all went wrong:
  1. If you insist on making my phone of the “flip” variety, don’t put any fucking buttons on the outside of the fucking phone. And get offa my land.

  2. Hotmail. Why do you ask me if I want to “Report all selected messages as Junk E-Mail” when I’m deleting them from my junk email folder? Shouldn’t this message come up if I delete something out of my inbox instead? Dur.

  3. Adelphia DVR, except for your primary purpose of letting me record live TV, you have never done anything right, ever. Please use some of the kajillion dollars I have paid for you and invest in some user-friendliness.

  4. Rhapsody, your heart was in the right place once, so I’m told. Why do you have to be so addicting and at the same time so completely buggy? And why don’t you call your mother more often?

  5. Back to cell phones, you whippersnappers. You must learn to trust us, the consumers. I think I speak for all of us, or at least everyone at my senior community center, when I promise that I can say “please leave a message after the beep” all by myself. Your phone bitch is useless. USELESS!

  6. We can put a man on the moon. We can make ice cream with cake in it. We have amazing technology at our disposal. Can’t we use some of it to time traffic lights better?

  7. Tom, I promise, hiring one legitimate web developer won’t scare away all your kiddie porn monger Myspace friends.

  8. To the rest of you young’ns: don’t be afraid of your blinker, don’t be afraid to use punctuation in email/IMs/TMs, don’t tailgate, mute your damnass computer when you’re in class, don’t make fun of my dentures, etc. etc. etc
Care for a hard candy?

Friday, June 23, 2006

Step four, get a beer.

Instructions from Lisa regarding a pile of food stuffs on my kitchen table: “Mike, mix these together for me please, so I can make it into a casserole for brunch tomorrow. Make sure you melt the butter first.”

What am I, a first grader? Of course you melt the butter first. Duh. Now, should that go in the microwave for ten, twelve minutes? Fifteen to be safe, I guess. Man, this cooking thing’s a breeze. Join me, won’t you?

Welcome to...
Today’s treat: Potato Discombobulation!

Hopefully, your recipe calls for as few steps as possible. Note that mine is really just 1. open everything, and 2. mix it all together. I mean, c’mon. Pop Tarts have more directions.

Oh, and 3. don’t forget to melt the butter.

Start with the condensed chicken soup stuff. It looks the most like boogers and therefore deserves to be on the bottom of your Discombobulation. Feel free to make a joke to yourself about what a condensed chicken looks like. Ah, Mr. Larson, we miss you.

Next, very carefully close your eyes, spin around, and gently thrust your hand out until it hits what we’ll call Ingredient No. 2. If you’re cooking anywhere near knives today, you’ve probably just cut yourself badly. Go get a Band-Aid™ and think about the lesson you’ve learned.

I chose the cornflakes. Add them in. Mmm... stays crunchy even in condensed chicken broth. Next, wonder if you were really supposed to add corn flakes, or if they’d just been left on the table since breakfast. Resign yourself to being a Letter-Of-The-Law chef and move on. (Picture enlarged to show texture.)

Get a huge block of cheese and go to town with a grater. Make sure you shred all of it as evenly and masterfully as I have. Decide not to post a picture of it because it reveals the incriminating empty Wegman's Shredded Cheese bags. Scandal!

Next, do the sour cream. You probably have a new container of sour cream (since, let’s face it, whatever sour cream is left over from your last meal is no good, even if that meal was ten minutes ago—sour cream is magic that way) so don’t forget to peal off the plastic. For best results, immediately drop the plastic on the floor. Give it the middle finger, since it had the audacity to land sour cream side down. Damned inanimate objects.

Finally, add the taters. Notice how your creation is a metaphor for life. Sometimes, it just looks like a bowl of hash browns, but it actually hides layers and layers of cheese, sour cream and cereal just beneath the surface. Sometimes, just sometimes, there’s even condensed chicken stuff. Hum “Fruit on the Bottom” to yourself.

Wrap foil over the bowl, put it back in the fridge for your wife to finish, get it back out, unwrap it, take the forgotten butter out of the microwave, decide you probably shouldn’t have melted it without putting it in something, if only some object had been invented to contain liquids so we dumbass mortals didn’t have to melt things in wax paper, perhaps we could call it a bowl or a cup or something, stir it all up, re-wrap it in foil, re-put it back in the fridge for your wife to finish, and go blog.

Monday, June 19, 2006

Da Garvey Code

A recently married couple develops nonverbal communication.  I’ll translate:

Lamaze Instructor: “Hi everyone!  Welcome to tonight’s class, the last of five!  Tonight is ecspecially important for all our new mommies and their coaches because...
Me: squeezes hand. <Did you catch that?  “Ecspecially”?>
Lisa: squeeze back. <Yeah, we’ll have to let Phoeby know.  She’ll ecspecially appreciate it.>


Lamaze Instructor: “So when you’re installing the car seat for the baby, you really have to get it in tight.  Don’t be afraid to lean on it with your knee.”
Me: squeeze? <Did she mean lean on the car seat or the baby?  And by the way, aren’t you impressed I was able to put a question mark on a hand squeeze?>

...Later still...

Lamaze Instructor: “Another great product you mommies should look into is called ‘My Brest Friend’, which helps support the baby.”
Me and Lisa simultaneously: squeeze! <She said breast!>

...Even later...

Lamaze Instructor: “And again, when you’re again holding the baby and it’s after the bathtime, you can hold both she and the towel so to keep’em warm.”
Me: squeeeeeze.  <This poor girl.  The Buffalonian compulsion to hack the English language into so many bits of pulp runs cold through her veins.  Please hold my bottle of water whilst I wipe the blood that’s now seeping from my ear drums.>
Lisa: squeeze.  squeeze.  <Yes dear.  Isn’t it nice that we’re so perfect?>

...five hundred billion laters later...

Lamaze Instructor: “So we’ve gone over just about everything I wanted to get to tonight, but just to be safe, let’s take a few questions...”
Me: (wondering how to convey the fact that we need to get the hell out of there so we can get some ice cream.)
Lisa: SCRATCH.  SCRATCH.  SCRAAAATCH! <We need to get THE HELL out of there so we can get some ice cream.>

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Happy Almost Father's Day!

No post since Tuesday?!? What am I, on summer vacation?

Yes. Yes I am.

Okay, I suck at blogging these days. In my defense, though, I’ve spent markedly less of my day in front of a computer in the last few weeks. For some reason, the urge to share with the blogiverse really only rears its giant head when I’m in class, wishing I was instead playing my DS or sitting on a porch or hanging out with Lisa.

So what have I been up to? Well, mostly playing my DS or sitting on a porch or hanging out with Lisa. Sometimes, all three at once.

This past week, I started a summer clerkship through Roswell, and that’s about all I can tell you about that. Oh, wait, I can also tell you they give me $3.50 for lunch every day and their cafeteria is awesome. Turkey panini, broccoli cheddar soup, and a nutty buddy awesome.

Also this past week, my son/daughter has officially received more than I own. True, it’s not a fair comparison, but if you pile up all the comic books, cds, ties, stuffed animal monkeys, etc. that I call my own, and put that next to a pile of the young’n’s binkies, bottles, onesies, stuffed animal monkeys, etc., the young’n would win and then some.

My stuff is still cooler. Neener neener.

Bump Watch:

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Rubber baby buggy bumpers, nothing.

A quick equation for you all:

Life post-baby’s arrival ≠ Life pre-baby + baby

See, if you were to take a newborn and fold it efficiently (please don’t), you’d really only have about a half foot of baby, cubed.

But, if you were to take all the stuff said baby comes with after just one of two baby showers, you’d have more than can fit (Tetris-style!) on a dining room table large enough to seat eight comfortably.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Chronicles of Chronicles of Narnia

Blogger’s Note: I started this on Friday night, but because only somewhat more important things like weddings and conversations about a baby kept coming up, I was only able to finish the movie this afternoon.  Enjoy.

In an effort to give my video game playing joints a rest, I borrowed The Chronic(what!)cles of Narnia from my parents and popped it in about ten minutes ago to watch while I’m eating my salami sandwich dinner.

I finished the sandwich nine and one half minutes ago and decided it’s time for a little experimental blogging.  Below, I’ve tapped out my thoughts as they come to me during the movie.  SPOILER ALERT: I haven’t seen the film yet (and it’s been maybe 15 years since I read the book), so don’t read on unless you have, or are more interested in experimental blogging than you are in a novel movie experience.

0:9:28 – Edward’s a dick.  Way to be optimistic during wartime, brother.

0:10:27 – I remember the last time I played hide and seek with my siblings.  We were on vacation in Mississippi and I hid in a storeroom where I ran into the biggest, most vile spider I’d ever seen in my life.  I lost that round, I believe.  If only points had been awarded for screaming like a little bitch.

0:12:40 – That is NOT Aretha Franklin’s wardrobe.

0:13:30 – Scott just asked if I wanted to come up and watch a movie with him.  In other words, screw experimental blogging.

Okay, I’m back.

0:18:49 – is that real snow?  Tumnus’s nipples say no.  

0:33:03 – what the hell is a Turkish Delight?  I remember wanting to try one so badly back when the cartoon version of this book came out.  I thought Edward was a dick then too.  Here we go.

0:38:33 – Pftht.  cricket.  From the Latin “cri”, meaning “game” and “cket”, meaning “that is boring.”

0:45:09 – Did anyone else expect the beaver to sound like the beaver from Winnie the Pooh?  No wait, that was a gopher.  I’d also like to point out that it is evidently possible for me to write a sentence containing both the words “beaver” and “pooh” and not resort to 4th grade humor.  

0:45:10 – Heh-heh.  “pooh.”

1:11:37 – “Ah, thanks for the weapons, Santa.  Now how about a lift???”

1:22:45 – So, where does the One Ring fit into all this?  And the Goblet of Fire?  And can Qui-Gon Aslan still use the Force?

1:38:17 – Wait.  The “stone table” is basically Stonehenge?  Is it because it’s a pseudo-religious place, or just because there are random similar points between Narnia and Great Britain?  Maybe there’s a Starbucks and an EMI Records too.  

2:02:02 – oh, it’s possible, bitch!

2:04:30 – the red healing potion is actually made by Guinness.  It’s good for you.

2:09:24 – grown up Peter looks like the freakshow Burger King guy in the commercials.

2:11:46 – so, wait.  Man, it’s been awhile since I read this, but is the implication here that they spent their teens and early twenties growing up as royalty only to fall back into the “real world” as adolescents?  Wouldn’t that suck?  Sorry, not only are you no longer KINGS and QUEENS, but you also have to go through puberty again.  I’d have a lamppost phobia for the rest of my life.  

Sunday, June 11, 2006


And welcome to our friends Michael and Joe’l, who joined the ranks of the Happily Married yesterday. Right now, I’m guessing our heroes are still zonked out, sleeping off a hangover brought about by too much wedding cake, too much champagne, and just the right amount of karaoke.

An event like this always gets me excited – the grandness of it all. Yeah, yeah, there’s the whole “’till death do us part” stuff, but I’m talking about the party. These are people who know how to throw a shin-dig, and I knew as soon as I heard they were engaged that the event would be the stuff of conversation for decades to come. I even got proof of some of it:

I bet you won't try to hang spoons on your noses.

I bet you won’t stick it up your nose.

I bet you won't try to inhale a flower petal while taking a picture of me trying to inhale a sugar packet.

I bet you won’t drunk dial Bryan.

I bet you won’t fall asleep while sunning yourself between the mass and the reception.

I bet you won’t fall asleep after you make a bed out of chairs in the reception hall.

I bet you won’t dress up in centerpiece flowers.

I bet you won’t dress up as one of the chairs in the reception hall.

I bet you... oh, nevermind, we did it all. Congrats to the happy newlyweds!

Friday, June 09, 2006

Blogging sweet nothings

No post since Monday?!? What am I, on summer vacation?

Yes. Yes I am.

Sorry for the no posty goodness. I know many of you suits are still stuck behind a desk, the internet community serving as your sole human contact during the day. But I’ve been living it up, doing most of the things I listed in my last post. The vast majority of my vay-kay has been (9.), (10.), (29.), and lots of (5.), thank God. Unfortunately, no (3.).

In the style of Four Rows Back, here are a few things I’d thought about posting, but didn’t, just because:

I had to get three shots this week. Tetanus, Hep A, and a P.P.D. test (which, luckily, has nothing to do with my p-p.)

I started making a mental checklist of stuff that I want to take along when Lisa goes into the hospital. D-day minus six weeks and two days, by the way… I was not-so-surprised to find out most of the things I’m taking need to be plugged in: camera, iPod, ipaq, laptop, desktop, dishwasher, refrigerator, one of those old 1950’s computers that fill an entire room, cell phone… I suppose I should ask Lisa if she wants to pack anything.

One year ago, I was on a mountain lake in Alaska, catching more rainbow trout than my companions.

I beat my first Nintendo DS game: Final Fantasy IV. Also, my “brain age” is 42.

Lisa and I finished painting the baby’s room. I’m sure once she gets around to posting, she’ll put up some pictures. (A conversation from yesterday: ME- “What should I post about today?” LISA- “I ask myself that exact same question, every three weeks.”)

Okay, that’s it for now. Sorry the first post I put up in days is fairly disjointed, and not at all useful to anyone, but I had to get something up before I go and (63.).

Sunday, June 04, 2006

In no particular order, 100 things I like to do:

(1.) read comic books (2.) play video games (3.) watch hockey (4.) go on fishing trips (5.) play with Lisa on her days off (6.) listen to music (7.) bitch about Buffalo radio (8.) talk about baby stuff (9.) eat (10.) drink (11.) relax (12.) visit my parents (13.) dream about flying (14.) play Sudoku (15.) read (16.) add to my amazon wishlist (17.) look at old pictures of myself and wonder what I was thinking then (18.) write (19.) travel (20.) surf the ‘net (21.) blog (22.) watch movies (23.) watch star trek (24.) watch cartoons (25.) drive (26.) strike up conversations with cashiers when Lisa’s listening (27.) act (28.) read the target circular (29.) mow the lawn (30.) impress my siblings (31.) play with legos (32.) make stupid bets with Hoffman (33.) impress Lisa’s family with my vast bank of useless knowledge (34.) dream about owning my own bar/restaurant (35.) see Lisa get excited when I buy clothes (36.) go to baseball games (37.) sushi (38.) get my back scratched (39.) reminisce about times I got drunk (40.) share theatre war stories (41.) tailgate at Bill’s games (42.) grill (43.) eat cheese (44.) listen to NPR (45.) read AIM away messages (46.) read everyone else’s blogs (47.) kill time on myspace (48.) save pennies in a big ass wine bottle (49.) make guacamole (50.) eat cereal right before I go to bed (51.) get email (52.) see Buffalo theatre (53.) dream about getting my own boat (54.) run virus/adware filters (55.) dance for Julia (56.) eat apples (57.) remember Papa (58.) make people laugh (59.) zone out (60.) eat outside (61.) roadtrip (62.) read books that surprise me, in a good way (63.) nap (64.) decorate Christmas trees (65.) read webcomics (66.) read Shakespeare (67.) get just drunk enough that I think I’m a good singer and I know everyone else thinks I’m a good singer too (68.) throw a frisbee around (69.) play Trivial Pursuit, guys against the girls (70.) wear an expensive suit (71.) mix cereals together to create taste sensations (72.) receive and deserve applause (73.) download illegal mp3s (74.) make mix cds (75.) have too much to eat on holidays with the whole family then pass out in a food coma (76.) have a Day of Sloth (77.) watch HBO serials (78.) wake up well before my alarm clock goes off (79.) find money I’d forgotten about (80.) wear Hawaiian shirts (81.) wave to other drivers (82.) tip big, when it’s warranted (83.) see people I know in commercials (84.) hit all green lights (85.) ski (86.) bowl (87.) go to Mighty Taco (88.) come up with the perfect Halloween costume (89.) earn lexis nexis reward points (90.) earn westlaw reward points (91.) turn in lexis and west points for stuff (92.) have a cold beer after I help someone move (93.) watch DVDs of television shows (94.) fall asleep on the couch with Lisa (95.) find out it’s a snow day (96.) play poker (97.) buy milkshakes for Lisa, but really for me (98.) read other people’s secrets (99.) eat bacon (100.) come up with 100 things I like to do

Saturday, June 03, 2006

The DaVinci Post

SPOILER ALERT: I called around and it turns out I’m one of three people in the history of the world who didn’t read The Da Vinci Code entirely. Lisa is one of the other two. The last guy, Bill from Idaho, has a medical condition that prevents him from reading anything but blogs. Bill, if you want to be surprised by the movie, skip this post.

Last night, Lisa and I went to see The Da Vinci Code (aka: Jesus Knows Best), the major motion picture which was based on the book, which was based on the myth, which was based on the religion, which was based on people who decided bacon wasn’t really that bad. The premise of the movie, so far as I can tell, is that Jesus hates albinos and only tolerates Alfred Molina.

Okay, not really, He loves Molina, especially when he was Snidely K. Whiplash. The premise of the movie is actually that Jebus did the divine with Mary Magdalene, and subsequently had “God III”, a fact that somehow everyone in the whole church knew, but decided not to talk about because then who would be willing to pay tithe? Evidently, kids are evil. Not to change the subject, but mine is due in 6 weeks!

Here’s the real shocker from the movie: I liked it. Actually, I liked it a lot. It was campy and far fetched, but damned if it wasn’t really entertaining. Look at the elements: Tom Hanks at his best since Bachelor Party. Jean Reno (whose resume simply says “If you’re doing a movie that is at all French, you must, by law, hire me.”) And let’s face it, if Ron Howard directed traffic through an intersection, I would pay eight bucks to see it.

(I thought up that last sentence as we were leaving the movie last night and tried it out on Lisa. She’s already told her mom, so sorry if it wasn’t as fresh the second time, Ma.)

If you do go to see it, make sure to smuggle in a bag of microwave popcorn, oh and don’t forget to bring along your willing suspension of disbelief. Like any mystery story, there are a few plot-holes you’re simply going to have to ignore. Here’s my favorite:

Let’s say Jesus did have a kid. Who had a kid, who had a kid, etc., right up until today. Now, unless The Divine Christ Powers include turning water into wine, giving the blind sight, waking from the dead, and sticking to only one child per generation, how is it that Amélie is the only living descendent? Yeah, my math isn’t very good, but follow me here. Let’s say the average generation is, what, 30 years? Then over two millennia, that’s about 67 generations. Pretend also that each subsequent direct descendant had an average of 2 kids, just to keep the maths even. That means that today, Daddy Christ would have 73,786,976,294,838,200,000 young’ns running around. (Check it out – excel does not lie.)

And all but three of them have read The DaVinci Code.