Whelp…tomorrow evening, I get to make an ass of myself recapture a bit of my youth as my old band gets together for the requisite “10 Year Reunion” show. Those couple of years we were together and touring were so textbook Spinal Tap, it’s scary. At least it was scary back then. Now it’s just plain old hilarious. I need to write a book on this shit. Anyway, the show will be captured on DVD compliments of the club and I’m really stoked about that. You see, my daughters really haven’t had a chance to experience any part of that time of my life except for a couple of photos and some songs [that get overly requested by my littlest one]. Why? Because all my footage from those years is archived on video tape.

Remember that stuff? Those cartridge thingies with a spool of brown stuff in them where you stick them in a contraption called a “V-C-R” which makes this weird whining noise then presents images on your television yet jiggles every once in a while with funny lines in the picture? Yeah, that stuff. <– This is how my oldest remembers them. Since we haven’t had a VCR in years, my youngest may grow up never even seeing one in action. And I don’t mind. Video tape always sucked, in my opinion. You got one good play before either 1) the tape wore down or 2) the machine ate it. It’s a black mark in our technological history, no doubt.

So, I’ll come home tomorrow evening with a shiny little DVD that my girls can sit down and watch with their old man over breakfast the next morning. Finally they’ll get a taste of what used to be such a big part of my life – if only an aging and embarrassing rendition of it. Sure, it’ll show me all likkered up, screaming and cussing like a sailor, but, let’s face it…when am I not?