The Misfits 30th Anniverscary Tour!

So last night, my sister & I went into Asheville to see The Misfits 30th Anniverscary Tour.



Fashion smashin first: My sister raided my wardrobe and went for a Barbarella look. Hottie! I wore a leopard print dress and 14-eye docs.

Before the Misfits went on stage, the club was piping this really awesome loungey, MIDI sounding Misfits cover CD. Reminded me of the musical stuff from Farside’s “Return of the Fly”. You know what I mean. It was really cute.
“It’s like, jazzy…swingin.. it’s fun!”

I met some metal-head guy from Kentucky who had a marine for a friend. My sister & I sort of paired off and started chatting. Nice enough guy, for sure. Kept some people off me. Too bad I didn’t have someone to keep him off me. His hand was wandering around my waist until I ran off to charge the front. Ha. kthxbye.

Anyhow, the Misfits took the stage and I just went insane. I was jumping and screaming… I guess Central Florida shows are considered rowdy because everyone here in Asheville was giving me wtf looks. Uh, didn’t they get the memo? Jerry Only was just feet away from us. I was on the border of the mosh pit the entire time; I was that annoying girl that was dancing and going all crazy and kept getting pushed into the pit. They opened with “Halloween”.


Really cool stage. See Jerry on the very right?

After each song, Jerry would just announce the next one really quickly and launch into it to keep the energy going. After a while he just gave up the announcing altogether and just played straight through. They played everything hard and fast. Eventually, I worked my way to the front eventually because it was honestly too tame in the middle. Too tame for me and I was in a fucking dress n’ boots. Ha. I honestly have no idea how long they played. Jerry did a great job singing… it was perfect.


Better, closer, warmer… Nice custom Warlock head stock too.

Set List

Halloween
Astrozombies
American Psycho
London Dungeon
I Turned Into A Martian
Walk Among Us
Ghouls Night Out
Resurrection
Violent World
20 Eyes
Death Comes Ripping
Angelfuck
Hollywood Babylon
Forbidden Zone
This Island Earth
Kong At the Gates
Static Age
We Are 138
Hybrid Moments
Some Kinda Hate
Crawling Eye
Die Die My Darling
Teenagers From Mars
Dust to Dust
Die Monster Die
Green Hell
Dig Up Her Bones
Horror Business
Vampira
Skulls
Last Caress
Mommy, Can I Go Out and Kill Tonight?

That’s all I can really remember of that (& that’s not in order). That’s quite a set list. I make no promises for accuracy, as I was in a state of indescribable euphoria…
… & three beers buzzed.


Being smooshed against the stage does have its advantages…

For “Die Die My Darling” Jerry pulled this kid up on stage, and told everyone that the kid’s older brother brought him to the show. The kid was about 12 or 13… wearing an old Nirvana shirt. He was totally put on the spot because Jerry wanted to help sing the song, but the kid didn’t know it. Kinda pwnd.

After the show ended, I was still at the front of the stage and center, pressed against it. Jerry stayed and signed everyone’s autographs, and yes, I copped a feel of his derierre & legs a few times. The man is fuckin’ tight; totally ripped. Death comes ripping? Try Jerry & his gym come ripping. He’s actually better looking in person than in photos. The man is huge, larger than life if you will. He’s 48 & looks better than most 30 year olds… and pretty much anyone I’ve ever seen in my life.


Jerry took the time to get photos with all the lil’ fiends.
He really loves kids, you can tell.

So anyway, Jerry saw me, smiled, put his thumb in his eye makeup and marked my forehead! I asked him for a kiss on the cheek, but he scrunched his nose, shook his head a little & replied, “I got a lil’ baby girl at home, I can’t be doin’ that.” t0tally pwnd.

I stuck around longer & got my sister’s skeleton gloves signed for her boyfriend (he signed the middle finger), and a photo:



His hand is on my shoulder. His head is on my hair.
I’m never washing said hair again.

I told him, “You know, you inspired me to pick up bass when I was 13.”
“Oh, but.. you’re not 13 now are you?”
“Ha ha, nooo!”

HOT.

He added, “Thank you both for coming out, you guys rock.”
“Oh yeah no problem! That was a fuckin’ awesome show, man!”
“Thanks, you know I really appreciate that!”
“Well have a great rest of the tour… stay safe!”

So with that, we left. As we were leaving the club parking lot, we got the typical “Hey Ladies, where’s the party at?”.
… I shit you not: this one girl yelled “Those are the girls that smelled really good!!” Strike three.

It was just… so surreal to meet someone who’s been such an inspiration to me. It was hands down my favorite three hours of my life so far. Just unreal. I mean, how many thousands of hours have I spent listening to the music? Mindboggling.


In all its fiendish glory…


The obligatory “I met Jerry & am wearing some of his makeup … what of it?” face.


All in all… ecstatic & in a state of disbelief.

11 thoughts on “The Misfits 30th Anniverscary Tour!

  1. “She touched him? WHY THE FUCK HAVEN’T I DONE THAT!!!! AAAAGH!” -YPBv2’s reaction to your journal.

    Also- Shows in portland are usually super-tame as well. Apparently, fuckin’ hipsters are too lazy to do anything other than hold a beer and bob their heads in time to the music.

    • Touched? Try man-handled. Give me the credit, dudez. Spandex azz & thigh… oh yes.

      I wanna tell you a story about the last time I was in Portland. The night before we played at the Long Goodbye. I was walking on the street about 10:30 at night. A lot of people go to bed around here at 10:30 at night.

      And well, I was walking along when suddenly these jocks in this bright blue pickup drove up. It had KC lights, tractor tires, everything but the CB. It was a life-size Hot Wheels car for some dumb rich kid, right. Well, they drove up to me and they yelled what dumb rich kids usually yell, “Hey, faggot,” and showered me with some water.

      So, I stood there thinking, “What a bunch of fuckheads,” and picked up a rock. Now, I waited, walked down about a block to where the Kentucky Fried Chicken is, on Burnside, and sure enough they drove around again.

      They said, “Hey, faggot, where’s the nearest McDonald’s?” I said, “I don’t know” and they squirted me again. So I threw the rock! And put a nice-size dent in their giant Hot Wheels car. They screached to a halt in the parking lot of some department store, whose name I don’t remember, it’s up the street from Fred Meyer, and they got out their clubs and they ran after me, yelling,

      “We’re gonna kill you, you god damn faggot, we’re gonna kill you, you motherfucker.”

      So I got in a phonebooth by the Kentucky Fried Chicken on Burnside, held my legs straight out like this so they couldn’t open the door to the phonebooth. So they began charging the phonebooth, beating on it with their club, yelling,

      “We’re gonna kill you, you motherfucker, we’re gonna kill you, you god damn faggot.”

      I just looked at them. So, there was a crowd gathering by this time and these kids were standing nearby and they said, “Oh, look at him, he’s insane.”

      I thought, ah-hah, here’s my way out. I yelled at them, “Take me to a mental hospital right away. I wanna be be put away. Please put me away, c’mon, call the cops and put me away. Please put me away now.”

      They said, “Alright, faggot, we’re calling the police.” So they called the police. The cop comes out and I go, “Ah, my savior, I’m away from these jocks.” He opens up the door, “Get out of there, you,” throws me up against the car, frisks me, shoves me in the back.

      Then he goes over to the jocks, “Now what happened here? It looks like we’re going have to take him to jail, but we got to have the full story first.” So the jocks, who had an ace in the hole, go, “Well, goddammit, the motherfucker put a dent in my truck, a $5,000 truck, right,
      so I got my club, I went out and I wanted to kill him. I want to kill him. Let me kill him, goddammit. Let me kill him.”

      So the cop made them go home, and he drove me home, and he confiscated their club and my rock as further evidence. And I thought,

      “So this is Oregon, huh? Tolerent Oregon?”

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