You need your glasses to see your amp settings.
You've thrown out your back jumping off the stage.
Instead of a fifth member, your band wants to spring for a roadie with the extra money.
It becomes more important to find a place onstage for your box fan, than your amp.
During the second set, you scream for the drummer to please stop hitting those annoying cymbals.
You refuse to play out of tune.
Your gig clothes make you look like George Burns out for a round of golf.
Your fans have left by 10:30 p.m.
Before each gig, you find yourself warming up more parts of your body.
All you want from groupies is a foot massage.
Your aftershow party is at the International House of Pancakes.
You love shopping the dollar store because you can sing along to most of your playlist.
You hire band members for their values instead of their talent.
You've lost the directions to the gig.
Prepping for the gig involves plucking hair from your chin, ears, or nose.
Most of the hair you've plucked from your chin, ears or nose are gray.
You're thrilled to have New Year's Eve off.
The waitress is your daughter.
You stop the set because your bottle of Ibuprofen fell behind the speakers.
Most of your crowd just sways in their seats.
You find your drink tokens from last month's gig in your guitar case.
You no longer use a tip jar.
You refuse to play without earplugs.
You ask the club owner if you can start at 8:30 PM instead of 9:30 PM
You want an opening act.
You check the TV schedule before booking a gig.
High notes make you cough.
Your gig stool has a back.
You're related to at least one other member of the band.
You need a nap before the gig.
You don't let anyone "sit in."
After the third set, you bug the club owner to let you quit early.
During the breaks, you now go to your van to lay down.
You prefer a music stand with a light.
You don't recover until Tuesday afternoon.
You can't operate without a set list.
You say you double on bass.
You discourage playing longer than contracted.
You actually have a contract.
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sj