I know first shows are supposed to be scary and stressful and make you want to paint your face and go to a football game … this would be one of those times if the only thing we were doing was playing a show. A little show in a nice club in Nashville. We’ve been on stages before. You go up and stand in the lights. You sing. Girls swoon. Bass players swoon. (We gotta get a new bass player). You finish and everyone acknowledges that you are godlike and you go home.Not us.

We have to record this thing. Full studio quality recording. We have to invite a prospective producer, a possible engineer, booking agents and the entire hospital staff that could do our future open heart surgeries should we be unable to stop eating pork rinds. (yum)

Not enough. We have to film the show for videos. Not one. One video is for suckers. We have to film two or three at once. Isn’t that how they made Lord of the Rings? Three at one time? I smell an Oscar. “Best final appearance of a trio before they fell down exhausted and could not be revived.”

I am so tired. I would say “we” are so tired but I can’t wake Kenny and Georgia to ask them how they feel. From the looks on their faces and the way their little legs are kicking …I would say they are tired and asleep and chasing bunnies.

Tomorrow night we will see if we have bitten off more than we can chew. We have an incredible band. The singing sounds great. The songs are great. We have seven hundred and fifty three people on our guest list for a club that holds one hundred and fifty. I hope they don’t turn away the producer and the engineer.

Wish us luck.

Actually, we don’t need luck…we need Red Bull and/or intravenous Diet Coke … and less friends who have nothing to do on a Saturday night. We gotta get the guest list down to seven hundred and twenty.