Three hours before I play I eat exactly two thirds of a tuna salad sandwich, on white bread, and when I get to the club I rub peanut butter on my feet while singing the theme song from Green Acres at the top of my voice.
Right before I get on the stand I put a raw New York strip steak down the front of my pants, where it stays for the rest of the night, and I have to sit on a 1973 Detroit telephone book.
While drumming I chew on Silly Putty. This helps me concentrate. Between sets I wash my face with buttermilk and suck strands of pasta up my nostrils.
Before the last set I always, always, pour turkey gravy over my head. This helps me concentrate.
When the gig is over I steal all the ash trays in the club, take off my clothes and get in the ice dispenser. This helps me relax.
Then I get dressed again and put the steak back in my pants.
When I get home I remove the steak from my pants, cook it and place it on the driver's seat of my wife's car, then I pack potted meat between my buttocks and unload my drums.