shanenickerson.com

how a Sony Warranty is handled

*UPDATED
*UPDATED 11/1/05
*UPDATED 11/2/05

I've been a loyal SONY customer for as long as I can remember. I had one of the original Sony Walkman Portable Cassette players, and currently, most of my electronic equipment is made by Sony. Earlier this year, I upgraded my digital camera from a 2.1 megapixel Canon Digital Elph to a 5.1 megapixel Sony T-33 Cybershot. I have nothing but good things to say about it. If you're a blogger, it's ideal. It shoots really great stills, excellent close-ups and even MPEG video (Vlogs!).

Unfortunately, the LCD screen on the camera cracked (thus the crappy phonecam pix here lately). I'm not sure how or why it happened, but since I purchased the camera less than six months ago, I felt confident that it would be covered by Sony's Warranty. I've registered every Sony product I've ever owned and until now, I've never needed the warranty. It's one of the reasons I keep buying their products.

I got online and made a claim. They gave me a shipping address in Laredo, TX to return the camera for prompt repair. I breathed a huge sigh of relief to know that my camera was still covered under warranty. I brought it to the local UPS Store and shipped it out.

About a week later, I got a message from a representative at the Repair Center. He informed me that "Physical Damage" is not covered under Sony's warranty.

"If a product is defective, won't that cause "physical damage?" I asked him.

Up4Poker

I'm playing in the WWdN weekly tournament at PokerStars tonight. If you enjoy playing poker online, this is a pretty fun event. Much sweating from the sidelines and good-natured hazing is to be expected, and the person lucky enough to knock Wil out (crack his Kings), gets the following week's tournament named after him/her.

Details are here. If you play tonight, come find me and say hi. Even if you don't play, come find me and heckle me as I donk my way to the top three.

Blogging Nostalgia?

Have you ever seen something or experienced something that reminded you of an old blog entry? It's been happening to me more and more. A few days ago, it was a hearse on the 10 Freeway, which reminded me of this post. Today, it was the Airstream in the picture above, which reminded me of this one.

What do you call it when things remind you of old blog entries?

pluggity plug pluggage

For those of you that love it when bloggers plug their own stuff, you're going to love this post.

I'm doing The Crazy Uncle Joe Show at The Groundlings tonight.

You remember the details, right?

joke

I got home at around seven thirty last night, after what felt like a pretty long day of work. I try to get out of work by seven or so to make sure I get home in time to see Lucy before she goes to bed. The nights I have to work late are hard, not because I don't like my job (because I do), but because I hate not seeing Lucy before she goes to sleep. I think about her all the time, and I miss her a lot by the end of the day. I suppose that's pretty normal for a parent.

At seven thirty, I arrived to an excited shout of "Daddy! Daddy! Daddy!" Lucy's arms flew up and down as she saw me walk in the door and she threw the book she was reading off to the side as she ran over to see me. I opened my arms and squatted down on the floor as she approached. "Hi Lucy," I said as she ran into my arms. "Nice hug," she said as she squeezed me back. One hug from your child can make all of the crappy other things on your mind go away instantly. "Issa good day?" Lucy asked me with eyes that made me want to quit my job and never leave her again. I smiled back at her and answered, "It WAS a good day. How was your day?" She launched into a story that was mostly gibberish, but included key words like "book," "walk," and "big truck." "Wow!" I told her as she finished her story, "It sounds like you had a great day." She repeated with a smile, "Issa gate day."

We played for a while before it was time for "a tubby." In the tub, she shouted out to me in the kitchen as I ate some half-assed dinner. "Daddy?" It was obvious in her tone that she wanted to make sure I was still there. I swallowed cold pizza and answered reassuringly, "I'm right here baby." Every now and then, I'd peek my head into the bathroom and make a funny face. "Daddy's so silly," she told Elisa. I splashed her a little with her toys and she laughed and asked, "Again? Again?" We kept it up until the water got cold in the tub. Eventually, Elisa pulled her out and dried her off, and she got her PJ's on for bed.

Usually, the next step in the routine is that Lucy runs over to mommy and says, "Bed?" or "Mulk?" She's not great about going to sleep, but the day does catch up to her at some point. Last night, she came running out of the bedroom with a tiny gray sweatshirt and said, "Jacket!" I looked at her and nodded. "Yes Lucy, that's your jacket," I told her. It was clear that she already knew it was a jacket, and that she had something else on her mind. "Joke?" "Joke?" "Joke?"

I looked at my wife, confused. "Oh, she wants to go see the joke," she told me.

A few days ago, our neighbors put up an interesting Halloween decoration. They stuck two fake legs out of the top of a leafy green tree with a fisherman's hat sitting next to the legs and an arm poking out the side of the tree to create the illusion that a man is lodged, head first, inside the tree. Lucy was so freaked out by it that she made my wife pick her up whenever they walked by it. My wife explained to Lucy that it was nothing to be scared about and that it was just "a joke." Since then, she has been somewhat obsessed with what she now refers to as "the joke."

"You want to see the joke, Lucy?" I asked her. "Okay!" she said with a victorious smile. Sometimes it's hard for two year old kids to get their message across, so when they realize that you understand them, they get excited. "OK, let's get you ready then. Daddy will take you," I told her. It was her bedtime, but how could I pass up the chance to take a walk with my daughter? We bundled her up with warmer clothes over her PJ's and put on her shoes. "You ready?" I asked her as I pulled her hood over her head. "Yup," she said as she grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door, "Joke!"

I held her hand as we walked down the sidewalk. Lucy talked to me the whole way in lots of words I didn't understand and a few words that I did. She loves pointing out everything she sees and practicing the words she's learned. "Look, it's a big wall!" she told me as she pointed to a small wall in front of a house. "Lookit Daddy, it's a punkin!" she said as she pointed out one of about a million pumpkins in our neighborhood." "That's right Lucy, it IS a pumpkin," I told her. Every now and then, she'd look up at me with her little red velvet hood and say, "Hi Daddy."

"Hi Lucy," I answered.

We walked by "The Joke," and Lucy observed, "It's a hand." I looked up at it and agreed, "That's right Lucy, it's a fake hand." She looked up too and repeated, "Issa fake hand."

"Bye Bye, Joke," she said as we walked on. "The Joke" was an excuse to get us walking, it seemed. That was fine with me. I couldn't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. She pointed out flowers and walls and cars and pumpkins. She's at the age when everything she sees excites her. Every now and then, she'd look up at me with those blue eyes and say, "Hi Daddy."

"Hi Lucy," I answered each time.

"Issa good day?" she asked me.

"It's the best day, Lucy."

I looked down at her with an overwhelming of happiness, only slightly burdened by that nagging feeling of lament. It is the lament that comes when that desire to live within one perfect moment forever, is proven impossible by the unstoppable passing of time.

Oblivious to such things, Lucy pulled me onward into the night air and the wonderland of new things around us. I followed, led by a force much fresher; much less sullied; much more aware than I have been in years.

It was the best day.

pink is the new shoes

Thanks to Aunt Corey, Lucy has a brand new pair of pink Chuck's. At two years old, this kid is already way cooler than I ever was.

on a mountain in Bhutan

Thoughts on the new banner?

Be honest.

RSS folk will have to click through to see what I'm talking about.

Sto Book 1

Jessica Stover is lousy at gun spacework. Honestly, look at her hands in this picture. Am I supposed to believe that she's holding any sort of gun that would actually kill an alien invader? Or perhaps, she's some sort of a mutant and her fingers are capable of phaser fire? Either way, she's obviously terrible at pretending she has a gun in her hand.

Luckily, she's not trying to sell you on that.

She IS trying to sell her book, which I honestly think you'd be fools not to buy. First of all, it's bound in an attractive hardcover. Secondly, perhaps it will convince her that she is a much better writer than she is an alien slayer.

I'm not joking when I tell you this:

Jessica Stover is going to be a big famous writer some day. For purely selfish reasons, you should get yourself a copy of her first published work. You don't want to be left out when the rest of us are making hundreds of dollars on ebay for this thing. It's a LIMITED RELEASE, people!

(Seriously Stover, if this book sucks you'll be sorry.)

EMA

Tonight was one of those nights that allowed me to see some of how far I've come in ten years.

Trippin' won an "EMA" Award tonight. Lest you confuse an "EMA" with the phonetically similar "EMMY," let me clarify: Trippin' won an Environmental Media Award tonight. This, from the EMA website:

"First presented by the Environmental Media Association (EMA) in 1991, the Environmental Media Awards honor film and television productions that increase public awareness of environmental issues and inspire personal action on these issues. The Awards recognize writers, producers, directors, actors, and others in the entertainment industry who actively expressed their concern for the environment through their work."

As lots of you may already know, I was the Supervising Producer on Trippin' (which is how I ended up at an awards show in a capacity other than "caterer." Seriously. I used to work at catered Hollywood events like this during my first few years in LA.)

Elisa and I showed up at around 5:00 pm. We were a bit early, but the cones were already set up to direct cars to the "green carpet" drop off area. Because it was the Environmental Media Awards, there was a special lane for Hybrids. Alas, I do not own a Prius, so Elisa and I pulled up into the normal car lane (in separate SUV's, ironically), and nervously headed for the registration desk. What might be common to any celebrity or frequent invitee to this sort of function--that is, the protocol and general flow of the evening--was somewhat foreign to me. The last time I attended an event of this profile, I was wearing a battered tuxedo shirt, tray-passing seared ahi. As I stood there with my wife in a freshly purchased outfit, which did nothing to convince me that I belonged there, I felt a bit out of place. I noticed a stack of empty stainless steel half-pans on the way in, and instantly flashed back to the days when it might have been me that got yelled at for leaving them where the "guests" could see them. As I collected our tickets and gift bag vouchers, "party captains" walked around importantly with headphones and event itineraries, and did their best to keep the many caterers busy. Most of the caterers (or penguins, as they are sometimes called) are actors or writers. Many will move back to wherever they came from within a few years. Some will switch careers at some point, as soon as they realize that acting has nothing to do with pouring wine. A lucky few will transcend the tuxedo shirts and feelings of longing that come from working at an event that makes you wish desperately you were a guest at, and achieve a few of their goals, which are probably masquerading as dreams.

At least, that's how I used to feel. When I worked at the premiere parties for "Jumanji" or "The Birdcage" or "Heat" a million years ago, I imagined myself as a guest, reveling in the opening of a movie that I had something to do with. Back then, it was both a thrill to be at an event surrounded by people I grew up watching on TV and in the movies, and a punch in the gut to be "the help."

The current generation of tray-passers (actors) offered us salmon and spinach puffs. They dutifully handed us napkins with each food item and in each of their faces, I saw a bit of myself from less than a decade ago. It felt good to belong there as a guest. Back then, I longed desperately to be on the other side. Tonight, I was.

The awards ceremony was nice. It was a room full of Hollywood types really working to effect change and help to rethink the way we work to preserve and protect our environment. I felt proud as I sat in the audience; proud of the fact that I contributed to something that had a positive environmental message; proud of the fact that the people onstage accepting our award thanked me for all of my work in the series; proud of the fact that I made it past the horrible days of passing champagne and potstickers to people I considered more accomplished than me, and into the place I used to long so desperately to be.

As I gazed around the room at the famously familiar faces and listened to Al Gore give his Keynote speech, I took a moment to appreciate how far I've come in this town. I may not be doing Cuba Gooding Jr. backflips onstage as I accept my third Academy Award, but as an old friend used to say,

"How do you eat a whale?"

It's the answer to that question that keeps me going.

sertich

Annie Sertich likes to give me shit about blogging. She's one of the funniest women (onstage and off) that you'll ever meet, and she's currently one of the standouts in the Acme show we're doing on Saturday nights. Last week after the show, a gang of us hung out, drank some beer and shot the shit. It's what I've missed the most about theatre; the camaraderie and the feeling of being a cast member. After the show is almost as much fun as during the show.

Anyway, this past Saturday, Annie launched off into a hilarious rant on blogging. I bet her that she'd end up here anyway (Thus the busted thing.) Of course, she did end up here, and wasted no time hazing me via e-mail:

Dear Blog,

Now that I have been "busted," I wonder when the nerd
police are gonna come take me to nerd jail. Boy oh
boy, I've heard BAD things about nerd jail...only 5
minutes of Internet access a day! Can you believe it
Blog? Me neither. I better get my fill of Internet
poker and go fish. (By the way, I won 100 bucks last
night in a nasty game of solitaire with some joker in
Torrence. "Cha-ching!" Have you heard that phrase
Blog? "Cha-ching?" Yeah, it's pretty new. I'm gonna
bring it to nerd jail and make the other inmates shit
their pants with my coolness).

Ok Blog. I gotta go work on my G7 Mac Panther MSDOS
machine with underscore dock preferences.

Boo-bitty-boo-boo-bing-bing-sound effect-sound
effect...

Signed,
Me.

elbow and...

Send.

Oh, quick thoughts:

1. I love hot pockets.
2. Check out the song Mr. Jones by Counting Crows.
It's cutting edge.
3. Shane Nickerson, if you are reading this, you are
busted to INFINITY.
(I can't write the infinity sign because Yahoo doesn't
have symbols. Stupid Yahoo. Maybe I can invent
something while in nerd jail. Good thinking Blog.
You're the best).

You win this round Annie.

You win this round.

3 out of 305

Ever since Wil's Charity Poker Tournament for Katrina Victims, I've been playing a lot of poker at Poker Stars. Compared to Hollywood Poker and Poker Room, Poker Stars has a lot more games to choose from and runs more satellites to big tournaments. The caliber of player seems to run a little higher at Poker Stars as well. I find myself playing better poker there, even though (and perhaps, because) the competition is a bit tougher.

My preferred game is the single table, no-limit SNG (sit and go). For those clueless about the game, that just means a single table of players with the same number of starting chips. The last three players on the table win money. I enjoy knocking people off of the table with sneaky cards more than almost anything. It's a very gratifying feeling.

Lately though, I've been dipping my toes into the world of multi-table tournaments. If SNG's are 10K road races, multi-tables are marathons. It's all about patience, pacing and playing the cards when they come. Last night, I played a satellite for this tournament. Satellites work like this: For a low buy-in, you play a bunch of other players to win entry into another tournament that brings you one step closer to the BIG tournament. In this case, the buy-in was only 100 Frequent Player Points.

There were 305 entrants. Only the top three in these tournies qualify for the final satellite tournament on the road to the Bahamas World Poker Tour event.

For the first time ever in a big multi-table satellite, I came in second!

I don't know whether it's because my game is finally getting better or because I dodged a bunch of bad beats or if it was simply a fluke, but either way, now I get to play in a tournament that could qualify me for a trip to a really exciting event on the World Poker Tour.

Okay, the chances are slim and I may bust out of it in ten minutes, but I beat 302 other people to get there. That's all I really care about this time.

Full Tilt Poker for MAC?

For those of you that care at all about online poker, read on. Everyone else, click here.

I heard some pretty exciting news today...

A very reliable source tells me that Full Tilt Poker is launching a Mac version of it's online poker software in early December of this year. For those of us on Macs that enjoy playing poker online, this is big news. Currently, the only real option for Mac users (unless you have Virtual PC) is the Poker Network (Pokerroom.com, Hollywoodpoker.com, etc.). None of the other major sites have even bothered to acknowledge us Mac users.

I, for one, couldn't be happier. I'm sick of playing through a Virtual PC Window. I'd much rather play in my native OSX. That's the Mac nerd in me, I guess.

If I can get my hands on an early version of the software before it is actually released, I'll let you know how it is.

hodge podge

I waste so much time.

It's annoying, really. I'll sit around telling myself that I deserve some "relax on the couch" time after a week of working long hours. I suppose it's true, but it still doesn't feel right at the end of the weekend. Like most guys, I love sitting around watching football or baseball or anything that steals my mind and keeps me on the couch. Right now, it's 1:24am and I'm avoiding bed because I don't want it to be tomorrow. I can't just go to sleep like a normal person. I stay up way past the point when my body and brain tell me it's time to crash. The two (my body and brain) have actually given up trying to convince me that going to bed when I'm tired makes sense. Sure, they send signals like heavy eyelids or room-shaking yawns, but they know it's futile. I will fight sleep and win until every ounce of "awakeness" is squeezed out of me.

Is that a disorder, do you think? Avoiding sleep? It's not like I don't like sleeping. I love it, actually. I can sleep anywhere, anytime. All this talk of sleep is actually making it sound pretty good. I'm yawning as we speak. I have to go to bed. I can't even remember what I've just written and I'm too tired to go back and see.

This is one of those entries that I'll wish I never posted. Eh. What can you do? It'll force me to write more to bury it deep into the archives.

Oh, quickly:

1. Extras is brilliant.
2. So is Rome.
3. So is Lost on iTunes.
4. Annie Sertich, if you're reading this, you're so busted.
5. Only a month or two left of the best of Acme on Saturdays.
6. Reconnecting with old friends feels right, somehow.

Remind me to post a rejection letter from 1995.

Blogebrity relaunch

Blogebrity got a facelift today, and it looks SO MUCH BETTER. I think we all knew it was coming. The black and pink contrast was hard on the eyes. Looks great guys.

The Comprehensive VLOG list

OK, the game is over. Some of you are perplexed; nay dumbfounded at my VLOG numbering system. I can bear it no longer. I HAVE NO SYSTEM. I usually guess which number the VLOG will be within the VLOG, but I am often wrong.

So here for the first time, the comprehensive listing of the Nickervlog, including the restored, mysterious Vlog #6 and the embarrassing as hell "Stryper Vlog." What this list does NOT include, is all of the unreleased Vlogs; gems that didn't make the cut. I guess you'll have to wait for the high-resolution DVD for all of that goodness. Some of the early vlogs are compressed badly, but I did get better at it as time wore on. Maybe I'll go back and fix the old ones at some point. Maybe not.

Anyway, here you go. I'll put a link in the sidebar to this entry and update this list as the vlogging continues:

Vlog #1
Vlog #2
Vlog #3
Vlog #4
Vlog #5
Vlog #6
Vlog #7
Vlog #8
Vlog #9
Vlog #11
Vlog #12
Vlog #13
Vlog #14
Vlog#15
Vlog #30
Vlog #39
Crossover Vlog
Stryper Vlog (in all of it's glorious embarrassment)
Vlog Woof
Vogblog
Spec. Audition #1 (CYLONS!)
Spec. Audition #2
Bonus Vlog (dancing Lucy)
Red Sox at Anaheim

trumped

AJ Gentile is a genius. You may remember him as the guy who won the free year of Typepad in the Nickerblog limerick contest. Since then, AJ's blog has quickly become one of my favorites. In addition to being multi-talented and impossibly productive, he is also hilarious. If you saw my last vlog, you will understand AJ's latest post.

It's here, and it's one of the funniest things I've ever seen.

Thanks AJ, for the laughs. I bow to your nerd prowess.

vlogcasting

You know you want to Vlog. You know you're eventually going to do it. You know you want to increase your web presence to the point that people can take you with them offline.

How do I know? Because Apple just raised the bar again and came out with a video iPod. Remember podcasting? How about Vlogcasting. It's coming.

Frickin' sweet.

Tag: vlogcasting

loose ends

1. A huge thanks to everyone who bared their boobies for breast cancer. You gals (and guys) have guts. True to my word, I donated 15 bucks for each one of you that dared to do it and left a comment here. Hooray for boobies!

2. Congratulations to Rarity for being the 200,000th visitor to Nickerblog! I've already ordered her special, one-of-a-kind Nickerblog shirt that reads, "Shane Nickerson has a gaggle." Maybe she'll send us a picture of her wearing it once it arrives! Hooray for readers!

3. Wil and I are in a show at Acme on Saturdays. Hooray for online friends!

4. Thank you baseball jesus. It wasn't a million, but it was enough. Hooray for the Yankees losing!

5. Hooray for the Yankees losing!

6. Times infinity.

my nemeses

I know it's irrational, but I hate you. I hate your smug accents and your stupid new bandwagon hats. I hate your banners and your legacy. I hate your stadium. I hate the fact that you feel like you deserve it, no matter where or when or why. I hate watching you win and I know it's a waste of anger. I know it doesn't make sense. I hate the names Jeter and A-Rod and Posada. I hate that dumb squint A-Rod does when he's at the plate because you just fucking know a clutch double is coming as he slaps his way around the bases. It's bad that you are consistently one of the best managed teams in baseball, but it's worse that you know it. I hate your team colors and your pinstripes and your history and every single stupid thing about you.

Mostly, I hate that your team is always so goddamn good. I hate that I try to hate Joe Torre and I can't. I hate that you think your team is "America's Team." Not my America. I will never, ever in my life be happy to see the Yankees win. Ever. You fans should know that when your team is that good, you don't have to be a bunch of smug bullies. It makes me hate you more.

Yes, yes, I know hate is a strong word. Deal with it.

Dear baseball jesus, please let the Yankees lose tonight by a million.

your pal,

Shane, the eternal Red Sox fan

the doors that open

Saturdays feel better after a week of hard work. I've been spending my days (and nights) working as a consultant on another reality show, which I'm actually really excited about. In spite of the long hours, it's been really rewarding to see it all come together. That said, I do enjoy my down time on the weekends. There's nothing quite like lazing around all day when it's well earned. Tonight, I have a show at Acme Comedy Theatre called, "Now That's What I Call Acme, Volume 1." It's an amazing cast of people. It's also the first show I've done at Acme with Wil, so that makes it doubly exciting and fun. If you are so inclined, come check it out one of these Saturdays. It's a very fun show and we all usually hang out for a beer or three next door at Amalfi after the funny.

Today, I'm enjoying the day off by playing some poker online, listening to the Party Shuffle on iTunes (last three songs: Electrical Storm, U2; 13 Steps Lead Down, Elvis Costello; Losing All Control, Rooney), and basking in the comforting sounds of a washer and dryer.

Funny how things seem to work out. Three months ago, I was considering a move to New York for a potential job opportunity that would have kept me there through mid-February. The idea of living in New York is extremely appealing to me. I have a romanticized notion of what it must be like to live there, and a window partially opened this summer that would have allowed me to see if my perception might match the reality. There were some drawbacks, however. Actually, there was one major drawback; Elisa and Lucy would not have been able to join me. We talked about it. In the end, we decided that if the job offer came in, I'd make the move for a few months. Somehow, we'd make it work for that limited period of time. It would be hard, but we'd figure it out. Sometimes, work separates families. It was only a few months, I told myself.

And just like that, I almost voluntarily took a job 3,000 miles away from the two most important people in my life. I imagined a chance to reclaim the young days in New York I never knew; the stuggling young artist days, but this time, with income. I convinced myself that it was the right move. The prospect of New York began to feel exciting.

Luckily, the window never fully opened. More accurately, a better one opened right here in Los Angeles. New York would have to wait. I took the job here in LA immediately.

As I sit here listening to Neil Finn singing (coincidentally) "Rest of the Day Off," with my daughter napping in the other room, I try to imagine how lonely I'd be in a city constantly drawing moths into it's fire, without the things that really matter to me. I can't do it. My life can be anywhere, but it must include my family.

So often in my life, I've been able to look back on things and think: "I'm so glad it worked out the way it did." I've learned to accept disappoinment and closed doors with the knowledge that one day, I will look back and be grateful that an even better door opened.

The wash is done. I should probably go throw that stuff in the dryer.

I can't tell you how lucky I feel to be able to do that today.

(Of course, winning a tournament helps too.) :-)

we're closing in on...

According to Site Meter, this little weblog, which started with modest expectations, is approaching the 200,000 unique visitors mark. I'm stunned to even write that. It seems like just yesterday that I was writing the standard, "OK, this is a blog, we'll see if it lasts, why do people do this?" post.

I never thought so many people would find this little chunk of the web, and even more shocking is that some of you have stuck around for so long. Lara was my first commenter. She was with me from the very first day. These days, I feel very lucky to have a regular readership of several hundred (sometimes close to a thousand) people per day. This whole thing has been a much greater and much more meaningful endeavor than I ever imagined.

I have apparently been nominated for a BOB (Best of Blogs) award recently as well. I am honored that even one person would consider this blog worthy of a nomination. So thanks, to whoever that person is.

Thanks also to everyone else for hanging around here. I may not have a posse like Wil, but I definitely have a gaggle.

Hey, that's an idea! Maybe if I ever create Nickerblog merchandise (highly doubtful), the tee-shirts will read:

Shane Nickerson has a Gaggle.

*edited to add: OH! Ok, the 200,000th visitor will receive a one-of-a-kind tee-shirt with that exact phrase. What a prize!

found

Is there anything cooler than a creative team behind a TV show using the Internet to feed the flames of speculation and discussion about it's very premise?

The Hanso Foundation

I think not.

fanatics

(AP Photo/Jeff Roberson)

Things are looking somewhat grim for the World Champion Boston Red Sox.

Oh well. At least our fans are better than Angels fans.

shift

I'm at the age when everyone around me seems to either be thinking about kids, trying to have kids, or adjusting to having kids. Because of that, friends often ask me if life changes after having a baby.

The easy answer to the question is yes, but the caveat takes longer to explain. I'm not big on imparting advice to new parents or future new parents, mainly because I find most advice of that sort to be needless panic-inducing lecture. Nothing I say will effectively prepare a new parent for the experience of adding a person to their family, and besides, parenting is a very personal thing. It's best to just let people figure out what works for them.

That said, I can tell you how MY life has changed in the past two years. Lucy is approaching her second birthday, and to tell you the truth, each month that passes makes it harder to remember a world without her.

The first three months of life with a newborn must be lived to be understood. It's thrilling and scary and tiring and amazing. You are flung into the fire of parenthood, and instinct helps you to adapt very quickly. Within a month, talking with strangers about breast-feeding and the intimate details of the birth seems very normal. If you're like me, and you still have friends that spend their weekdays planning the weekend to score chicks and get hammered, that's when the wedge begins to split you apart. It is the beginning of the loss of common ground. Take advantage of the few times you have to get together with the old gang to have a few beers. At first, you can quickly get past the "how's the baby?" question and move right into talking about the old days, but that will change.

As for the baby, there's not much to it those first few months (other than "really cute and awesome"). It's not like they have some magnetic personality that draws you in. Sure, it's cool to observe them do amazing stuff like yawn and watch mobiles, but babies aren't all that interesting until they start recognizing you. That's when the real change happens.

It's slow. At first, you try to do the old things you used to do like play poker and hang with friends and stay out late. Then slowly, you start to miss the new person you made. Making the choice between a night at a bar and a night with your little girl begins to seem very easy. You find yourself telling friends, "I actually have to go home to see my daughter." Every time I say the phrase "my daughter," it reminds me that it's all real.

And then at some point between the eighth month and now, things have definitely changed. I can't wait to see her. I see my old friends less and less, because given the choice, I'd rather be with my wife and Lucy. She's a toddler now. She has a personality. I'm that dad that has her picture on my Powerbook desktop and as a screensaver on my cellphone and in thousands of pictures on my hard drive. I used to think, back before I was a parent and scoffed at such people, that parents did such things to brag or gloat about their kids. Now I understand the truth. We do it because we love them so much that we need to remind ourselves all day long who it is waiting at home for us with a huge squeal and open arms and the purest love that exists.

Yeah, my life has changed. And I'm so thankful for it.

Mr. Vain

JMS