The Helloween XXXtravaganza OR My life in the circus.
By Jimmy Brad


This chronicles what myself and other participants can remember about The Pits and Jimmy and the Teasers week-long Halloween tour 2002. I write this to prove that really GOOD ideas are often really BAD ideas. And vice-versa. Our constant cast of characters:

The Pits:

Dr. Morbid - Guitar and Vocals, voted most likely to be awake. I think I saw him asleep twice, both times on the dog's bed, which made it look rather involuntary. Morbid was on a very strict drinking schedule, which required him to open a beer at noon everyday. Witty and devilish, Morbid often comes up with bad ideas, which he then convinces the rest of us to execute. Eschewing the term "hello", he instead uses "awwww shit, we're dead".

~Lanie - Bassist and damage control for the other two Pits. It never seems to occur to this little vixen that she is a part of the most insane organization (if you wanna call it that) in rock and roll. Lanie is the only member even slightly optimistic in the Pits. Of course, being optimistic in the Pits means that you're quite sure something expensive will get broken, but that you're sure no one will notice because of all the blood.

Dusty Booze - Drums and, well, Booze. What can you say about Dusty? Most likely to be at the bar, most likely to get hurt, most likely to be on fire, most likely to point out to assholes that they're being assholes. Also, most likely to steal useless things, most likely to get hit with beer cans, most likely to back into things, most likely to yell out catch phrases, most likely to be orange and most likely not to give a fuck. The man would be my hero except that he's too short.

Ryan - Dude, what the hell is your last name? Pits roadie and recipient of endless taunting and abuse. Tried in vain to get carded everywhere we went to prove that he's 21. Trademarks include big hair and a new leather jacket, and making fun of himself once everyone else gets tired of it. Thinks Mike Decay is "adorable". Secretly plays pretty good guitar.

Jimmy and the Teasers - ya'll know us.

Groundhog- often along for the ride with The Teasers, Hog is the resident cynic and grump. Has never once in his life uttered the words "it can't get any worse than this". Laughs the loudest when someone gets injured or otherwise humiliated. Also referred to as "Cheech and Chong" and in moments of blandness "Brian".

Tiger Beat Tony- Rocket 350 drummer extrordinair and all around great guy brought his Donny Osmond looking ass along for the first half of the trip to sit in with the High School Hellcats. A great joiner inner, Tony always seems to be in the right place at the right time when something stupid or retarded happens, leading me to believe he's more of an instigator than he's given credit for. Also enjoys taunting clowns and is not allowed to sit beside an open window in the van.

THE REST OF THE CHARACTERS WILL BE INTRODUCED IN THE CHAPTERS IN WHICH THEY APPEAR:

Chapter One: Charlottesville: Booze Burns

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS:
Creepy Scott (the Hillbilly Werewolf) and Josh Lowery (J-LO)- Rock and Roll Heroes. Creepy has a fucking PHD in Rock and Roll and is perhaps the coolest sumbitch in the world. Josh plays drums with Creepy (as well as other folks) and is not above attacking the audience.

Josh Mustin (Old Man Mustin). Hilarious dude and all 'round nice guy. DO NOT bust on or make fun of his white jean jacket. He's been kikin' that style since you were in diapers.

Goose. Creepy's roommate. Future Candy Snatcher bass player. Present maniac. His mama says his real name is "Doug". I've seen no proof.

Elvis. I dunno anything else to call him. Full time Elvis impersonator, often performs when Creepy is playing. Intriguing interpretation of Elvis. Drives a damn nice Caddy.


So the drive to Charlottesville was kinda crappy and rainy, just like most of the drives on this tour would end up bein'. I LOVE the Tokyo Rose but I HATE the fuckin' load in. Straight down a flight of stairs that just BEGS for you to fall down them, especially when your Chucks are soaking wet. So we get stuff loaded in and Tiger Beat and I sample the free Japanese draft while the rest of the crew gets some of the rabbit food they serve at this joint upstairs. A really good crowd comes in despite the weather, but it was just about guaranteed since the semi-retired Hillbilly Werewolf was playing his first show in Charlottesville in a good while, maybe even a year. Chapel Hill Katie was there, and we talked for a while, and this chick Sarah who I'd met with J-Lo (naw, he DON'T like to be called J-Lo) before was also at the bar doin' vodka shots with a friendly foreign guy that I'd also met at some point. He has those cool little villain glasses. Everyone arrives, Pits, Hillbilly and Josh Lowery (not to be confused with Josh Mustin) and Hillbilly's girlfriend who had on such an amazing Medusa costume that I didn't even know it was her until she spoke. In fact, it was a GREAT costume party overall. So the usual "how ya doin', good to see ya, this is gonna kill us" bullshit gets thrown around, especially when Morbid walks in. Morbid may as well change his name to "Jesus" 'cause every time he walks in to a bar, everyone goes "OH, Jesus". Anyway, the party gets rollin' with "Old Man Mustin' and the Teenage Abortions". I've know Josh's crazy ass for a while and I knew his band was gonna be nuts. He came onstage with a walker, doin' the old man thing, and explained how his sons hadn't been aborted until they were teenagers. Made sense at the time. So the two "Teenage Abortions" come out with coat hangers sticking out of them at various angles, and begin to rock. Josh blazed away on his SG, fast punk rock style. Everybody dug it, although I dunno how Josh made it through the set in that Old Man makeup. So we were next. Normal set, loud, good fun, beer being thrown, the usual Teaser experience. BUT, Sarah, she of the vodka shots, decides it's great fun to try to tackle me while I'm playing. And she's quite successful at it. Let's face it, I ain't real stable to start with.

So then Elvis, who I hadn't seen in ages, comes up and does a set, which is punctuated by dropping his cell phone twice and losing some Advil Cold and Flu tabs outta his leather pants. Classic. Oh, and I got to meet his wife. Then the Pits attacked. Jesus, what a great set, everybody was in fine form. Since he's mastered the drums and becomes bored easily, Dusty has taken to setting his drums on fire with lighter fluid between songs. So his drums are blazin' away when he DECIDES (yes, on purpose) that it's be cool to set Dusty on fire too. So he douses his leg, lights it, and keeps on rockin' Lighter fluid usually burns away quite quickly. But with the aid of a fan(electric, not human, don't be silly) behind the drum kit, Dusty's leg blazed up quite nicely. Ever see a pumpkin scowl? Dusty HAS to stop playing and jumps up, trying to smack out the fire on his leg. The man is seconds away from stop, drop and roll territory when I douse him with two of the afore mentioned draft beers, and he is extinguished in a small cloud of smoke. My man shrugs and jumps back in. I don't think the other two ever stopped playing.

The Hillbilly Werewolf's set was nothing short of fucking AMAZING. It had gotten really late and he and J-Lo went onstage at about 1:45. But they could've played 'til the sun came up and no one would've left. Of course, the stage got destroyed, and I got hit in the head with a drumstick. It was glorious.

Ended the night at Creepy's with Goose DJ-ing in a hyperactive manner, which meant he never played a song more than halfway through. Woke up on the couch, thinking " Dusty set himself on fire the FIRST DAY. Good sign." Found the van parked in the lot of a Baptist church. Things were getting' better all the time. Had Mexican food for BREAKFAST. AWWWW yeah.


Chapter Two: Baltimore. Feathers burn as well.

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS:
Chris Iseli (The Reverend Stevie St. 666, The Ostrich) Another Rock and Roll hero and a great friend of ours, both an instigator and participator, can generate stupid ideas and make sure they're carried out to their utmost potential. Currently at war with and destroying bottle after bottle of Jim Beam. Despite his outward calm, a true lover of chaos.

The High School Hellcats: All girl punk rock from Charm City who have the dubious distinction of having Tiger Beat sit in on drums with them from time to time (thus altering the "all girl" thing). THEY, unlike the rest of us, do not seem to have any addictions to fire or other harmful substances.


We split early to take Tigerbeat to Hellcat practice outside of Baltimore, and then went over to The Reverend Stevie St. 666's Mobtown pad to regroup with showers and Gideon bibles. Chris's place hasn't changed in three years and I appreciate the consistency. We bullshitted and joked about Dusty's 2nd degree leg burn. Chris unfortunately had a gig of his own with Chester Stacy across town. We got to the Sidebar about 8, right on time. The guys with the keys got there about 8:30, but that was OK, I was amused by the Food of the Gods style rats that were shaking down the dumpster in the alley. My buddy Mike who booked the gig showed up, we hung out, and I got to meet the fabulous Hellcats, decked out in Dickie gear and ready to kick someone's ass. Immediately sensed that they didn't find my old ass charming IN THE LEAST and went off to order a pizza and study the label on bottles of National Bohemian. We got set up, the Pits arrived (whew) and the Hellcats kicked it off. I REALLY dug the Hellcats, and Tony was a badass as usual. Three chord punk, and despite the poor PA sound, I could tell the vocals were really great. Check this band out if ya get a chance.

Anyway, then Hustelero GT kicked it ROCK style. I was expecting lights and explosions. I can't think of the guitar player's name, but he was a great player, as was the whole band. Then it was time for some Pits action. Away they go, Dusty has no fear of fire still, and the sound favors The Pits in a big way. I was really enjoying myself when I notice that Lanie was a bit entangled in a feather boa she was wearing. Ever the chivalrous gentleman and wanting a better view of her fake blood covered cleavage, I pull it off of her and toss it at Dusty, just as he's lighting one of his cymbals with lighter fluid. Whoosh, I tell ya, now that motherfucker really caught on fire. There was a momentary look of panic from Sir Pumpkin as he believes he's set Lanie on fire. Realizing what was going on, he smacked the boa to the ground and Lanie stomped it out. Hell yeah.

We were last and I was in the shape that I'm usually in when we play last. Everything is going great, we're sorta hyper for some reason, when suddenly I make a misstep and WHACK, the mic hits me in the mouth so hard it knocks me down. So I'm tasting blood and thinking, "damn it's gonna suck to go to the hospital". So I gather myself, play an instrumental, and realize it's just a good old- fashioned split lip and no medical attention will be needed. I make a joke about the unlevel stage being carpeted with stolen welcome mats and move on. BIG cut and bruise the next morning. Oh well. Finish the night up back at
Chris's, babbling about god knows what until god knows when. I remember Tony asleep in the recliner with Clarence the Fat Cat perched on the chair arm studying one of his many unexpected guest. He didn't seem impressed with any of us and went into the corner to abuse one of Valerie's wash cloths.


Chapter 3. Charm City/ Richmond Careful kid, you'll put your eye out.

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS:
Nancy and the Knockers: Nancy, Tammi, Dave, and the other guitar player (sorry man). Fabulous band with a fabulous name. Always a pleasure to kick ass with these guys, always rockin' and always raisin' hell. Nancy is a first class individual. Dave is not. Both are very cool. And everyone knows I love Tammi.


"Aw, let's have a drink before we go. I don't wanna hang out in Richmond". So began one of the most retarded days in recent history. We had gone through the now routine "everybody wake up, everybody shower" stage, and had waited quite a while outside this little restaurant to eat, sitting on the sidewalk looking like the White Zombie road crew, certainly and intentionally scaring away any other potential patrons to this establishment. We discussed many things, including Porsches and Charity's ass. Feeding that many people is always a fiasco but we make it without horribly offending anyone except maybe Dusty, who didn't care for his "Hemp Salad". I myself was quite frightened by a mannequin in the bathroom. So all that aside, I uttered the first sentence in this paragraph and we drove over to Fell's Point to Friend's, a little bar that we often go to in the company of the Twin Six. "A Drink. Before we leave". Well, you don't start a tab for "A Drink". I knew it was on. And so did Dusty. Why he didn't just sit at the bar I have no idea, because every 15 minutes he got up to go BACK to the bar and order ANOTHER pint glass filled with vodka and an eyedropper full of cranberry. Lanie also was working on tea glasses full of gin that had perhaps been placed beside a bottle of tonic, but surely had none in it and tasted like giant, VERY DRY, martinis. Chris was plowing into Beam and Beams, I was doing the routine Miller Lite, and Morbid discovered a jukebox full of wonder, which included the Cramps and the Damned. So the party starts at 3:30 p.m.

Check out this link:
http://www.cnn.com/2002/US/Central/10/02/candidate.blue.skin.ap/

Chris pointed out that it would be easy to debate this guy, since no matter what political corruption he accused you of, all you had to do was say. "He's fucking blue. He turned himself blue". Pretty funny in a Saturday Night Live skit way. But in the haze the afternoon was turning into, it was the funniest fucking thing we'd ever heard. Dusty kept saying "You're fucking BLUE" as the answer to every question that was asked. Then, since we often harass Thurn by singing "Creatures Stole My Surfboard" which gets stuck in her head, Dusty decided THAT was the answer to every question. Then he moved on to "I'm fucking ORANGE"! As odd as it all looks on paper, we were laughing our asses off at him.
THEN, the discussion turned to homeless wackos that we had encountered in various towns. Chris always wins the awards in these tales by telling about the guy with touretts who he and Curtass once heard yell "The Sword and Shield of the last Two Remaining Buttfuckers". Well, Dusty thought THAT was a great campaign slogan for the blue guy, and kept shouting it and varied intervals. I may have been helping with that one (since I'm writing this, much of MY stupidity has been edited out). So I'm noticing that we're being watched, as we talk about freaks, by a freakish looking woman indeed. She's drinking that new Michelob diet beer or whatever and smiling dementedly every time we bust out laughing. I notice her coming over to the table and jump up to retrieve myself more refreshment before THIS sideshow starts. The bartender asks "is she bothering you?" and I say "hmmmm. Give us a minute".
We deserved it. Karma is hell.

So when I get back to the table she has her arm around a more surprised (and drunk) than usual looking Lanie and asking, toothlessly, "Who's gonna marry this girl? Don't marry her if you can't take care of her. Look, she has beautiful hair and blue eyes." Now, one of Lanie's most striking features is big brown eyes that you can see from the moon. We're really losing it now. She moves on to Valerie: "Look at her, beautiful face, and a good set of teeth". Valerie, nursing a drink and feeling a little hateful from the night before, looks at me and goes "teeth? What, am I a fucking HORSE now?" We've all openly lost it at this point while this poor old lady (who, by the way, had the money to drink and eat in this bar. I suspect crazy, but not homeless, since I couldn't smell her.) continues to rant about marrying these girls. " they can take care of you, look after you, give you ECTASY when you're lonely". At this point Dusty is off balance laughing and shortly thereafter, falls off his chair. The lady seems to think she made her point, and went back to her Michelob and crabcakes.

It didn't get any better after that. And at 6:30 we decide if we're going to Richmond, we better leave (although we told Dusty we were already in Richmond, and he should have another drink). We bid Chris farewell and headed for VA.

Along the way we stopped at a McDonald's, where some gangstas looked at us like we just fell out of a drive in movie, and Dusty pissed in a mop bucket before stealing the "careful, wet floor" sign. We got to Swingers about 9 and took our place at the bar. I got to finish watching the World Series (Angels!) and we made the sucky load up the staircase from hell. Nancy Knockers is already there, and we all start having a good time immediately, even Dusty who was trying to teach the bartender to make a vodka cranberry "MobTown" style, and telling him he was fucking blue when he didn't get it right. Tammi from the Knockers shows up and I go into a shameless high flirt mode, even though all men love her and I have a better chance with the redhead from "That 70's Show".

Anyway, it's all fun and games and I believe the Pits went on first. Now, Dusty was PLOWED, but he hung in there. We were slinging Pabst at him like crazy though, and for the first time ever, it was for his own good. His drums became inflammable. Try as he might, pouring WAY too much lighter fluid all over his drums and himself, nothing would light. Which was a really good thing because he used so much, I was thinking he was gonna go "POOF" into a little cartoon pile of ashes with two blinking eyes on top. Anyway, end of the set comes, Dusty dives through his kit, but forgets to let go of one drumstick, which pokes right into his eye. Beer is still being sprayed on him and I'm kicking him to get up, thinking he's just joking. But he ain't. He's pretty hurt. So Valerie takes a look at him and he says "How's it look" and she says "It's fucking blue". His eye wasn't destroyed, but it was sore the rest of the week, with a large bruise just above the eyelid. OUCH.

Nancy and the Knockers were GREAT, I really enjoyed them, especially "Party Asshole", which is a damn good song. We played maybe one of our better sets of the tour, Morbid tore it up singing "Can Your Pussy Do The Dog" and I didn't bang my head on the heater like the last time we played there. The night ended with a toilet paper fight in the middle of the street and Nancy's boyfriendteaching Morbid to Hula-Hoop.

Morbid passed out with a mouthful of peanuts. What a day.



Chapter 4, RALEIGH, Well, THAT DIDN'T SUCK

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS:
James Hyatt. Big Teaser supporter and damn good drinkin' buddy. I think James is a good luck charm, we always seem to have better shows when he's around. We'll add you to the payroll.

Greg Adams. North Carolina Rock and Roll Royalty, been in LOADS of great bands. Close friend of JATT. Former bass player in Smooch, and, for a night, a fabulous Teaser. Greg was achieving greatness just by showing up. It WAS a Monday and the weekend had treated him like a baby treats a diaper. The moredisgusted Greg is, the funnier he is.


Woke up with it raining and noticed the street was covered in toilet paper. Was only momentarily confused. Rounded the Teasers up and found Dusty's foot sticking out of the Pitsmobile (Van...or ASTROVAN?). Told him we were splitting, explained to him who and where he was and headed out of Richmond.

But it ain't never that easy, is it? How can a town, which has fucking I-95 running right through the middle of it, have SO LITTLE ACCESS to it? I get lost every damn time I try to get out of Richmond, and I suspect that's the case with most people who live there and that's why they stay. Anyway, we had left early so we could get back to the Ranch and try, once again, to regroup.

There was a little concern about weather or not this gig would go down at all since it was at Sadlack's, which is a small sandwich joint with a patio where the bands play. It was raining pretty hard, so I wasn't sure. But I called them and they said it was enclosed by three walls and outside of hurricane conditions it would be cool. So, by the time we got home, showered and sobered up, it was time to head over there 'cause the shows, being outside, have to be over by 9. So we arrived around six (Brian didn't come along and Thurn and Charity drove from Chapel Hill, so it was just me, Valerie and Tiger Beat) to find that the Pits had arrived and discovered that this place was pretty cool. The sandwiches were free and kicked ass, and the free draft beer included RED HOOK. Score! Well, for a Monday night, this was promising. I had a few friends arrive, like Greg Adams and James Hyatt and crew, and there were enough hangers on to call it a crowd. We set up out on the patio, with a little help from Jack from the Brewery, who was hosting a BINGO game after we played. Yeah, BINGO. We thought it was weird too but what the hell.

Fun show. The Pits sounded great, and somehow Morbid lost his shoe, which I found and threw at Dusty. In fact, there was a LOT of throwing going on, a preview of things to come. Draft Budweiser, as everyone knows, makes a much better projectile than it does a beverage. Anyway, it was a great set. Our set, as expected, was a sloppy fun mess. I was hit with AT LEAST two full beers, spent much time rolling around on the ground under various Teasers, had a blast. I don't know if we coulda had a better time on a Monday night, everyone was really nice, no one got mad at all the spilled beer, I even got a big sandwich to go. And the BINGO was KICKING ASS when we left, no shit, those people were having fun. We tried to get Ryan carded on the way home, but the Redneck behind the counter at the Pantry just looked at Ryan and said "been to a Halloween party?" We said "yeah" and split without telling him Ryan looks like that all the time. Late night with AMC's monster movie marathon.



Chapter 5, WINSTON SALEM, BOY, did that suck.

Additional Characters:
Michael Gordon: Nicest guy in the UNIVERSE. Mike drove all the way down from Asheville for this show. Yet another General in the Rock and Roll army.

Meg. Sorry Meg, don't know your last name. But you sure are pretty. Yet another true believer, Meg is at all of the finest Rock and Roll happenings. I've seen her in, like, three or four STATES in the last six months.


The next day had one major highlight. I hastily recorded a few songs with the Pits. We spontaneously wrote one that hopefully you'll hear one day, it kicked ASS. So, if I thought the weather blew the day before, this showed me what sucky weather was REALLY like. Cold, rainin', just pissy. So after recording and a buzzed trip to Shomaker music for strings, we headed to Winston. Now, I had my worries about this joint, but it looked like a nice place and the guy working was damned nice. He let us serve ourselves the first round, which was bit of a mistake, beers all around, except, hell, here Lanie, work on the bottle of wine (needless to say, she was charged for that one).

Anyway, Tiger Beat had split but Brian had rejoined so the cast of idiots buckled down and waited to see if anyone showed up to witness tonight's train wreck. I knew we were in trouble when the sound guy asked the Pits "so,...you're a rockabilly band, right?" Dusty says "Well...I LIKE rockabilly, does that help? Another bartender shows up and we start a tab. It's POURING rain outside and damned cold for October. It AIN'T lookin' good. BUT, MICHAEL GORDON shows up. He lives in fucking ASHEVILLE. So he's driven this far in this weather to see us? Crowd be damned, the train wreck is back on schedule. He brings along the lovely MEG, who is temporarily hanging/working in Winston. She calls up Lucky of Jack Black fame who's there quickly, and a couple of other cool guys showed up as well. Right on, let's do it.

So, lemme just say that recording at the Ranch basically REQUIRES alcohol and everyone had a good head start before we even got to Winston. And Lanie, who I guess had been watching Valerie carve some festive Jack O' Lanterns had had a gin and tonic or two before her FIRST bottle of wine. I say "first" because there was indeed a second. Drunk Pits are funny, and also kick ass. Lanie KEPT putting her bottle of wine down and then losing it, much to our amusement. We threw everything we could get our hands on at Dusty, pillows, magazines, flaming paper airplanes, whatever. When it was our turn, I guess he did the same to me, although I think the paper airplane was so lame that no one attempted that again. I remember seeing Lanie dancing on a table, and then she disappeared. We played for a while, perplexed by the most bizarre sounding stage we'd been on in a while. Everybody said it was a good set. I'll take their word for it.

So since we had drawn a total of 5 or 6 people, the guys at the bar weren't really happy with us since we'd made the mess of, say, maybe 47 people. But we're always willing to clean up. These guys wanted the hell outta there though (even though it wasn't all that late). So, the deal of %75 of the door and $1
domestics added up to us owing the bar a total of about $65. Damn. So that sucks pretty bad. AND, whilst horsing around with Lanie, I discover that she CAN'T horse because she had, in fact, tumbled off the aforementioned table she was dancing on and her ankle felt quite hateful indeed. So we said goodbye to Michael (thanks again man) and once again trekked back to the Ranch, not happy to be payin' to play. But, nonetheless, quite tipsy. Somehow while putting on dry clothes I missed that Lanie had to be carried up the stairs. A report by Ryan that she was upset and in pain led me to stumble upstairs to see what the deal was. I found Lanie in the bed, a bit upset and a little afraid to look at her ankle. SO...not thinking much about a twisted ankle I pull back the covers and HOLY SHIT!!!! Man, her ankle was swollen like a bag o' jiffy pop. Looked like she had a big blue egg on the side of her foot. Not wanting to panic a Pits bass player who's just ingested two bottles of wine however, I just say "It's not that bad Lanie, we'll just get Valerie to look at it, she's had many ankle injuries". So I FLY down the stairs in a panic to get Valerie to see if Lanie will have to play the rest of the tour sitting on a barstool. Valerie looks at it, comes back down remarking "goddamn" and returns upstairs with a frozen bag of Stouffer's green peas (don't ask me how that got in MY freezer) to put on Lanie's ankle. Anyway, she comes back sayin' "yeah, she twisted the HELL out of it, but that she'll probably be OK."

Valerie was right, Lanie limped the rest of the trip, but never seemed too worse for wear. Dusty and I were a bit confused that Lanie had gotten hurt worse than either of us. Another late night with the Monster movies.

Chapter 6: Chapel Hill

ADDITIONAL CHARACTERS:
The Spinns- Chapel Hill's newest ass kickers, the Spinns are without a doubt the real deal. Awesome garage rock, super cool dudes, putting away the beer like there's no tomorrow. These guys are the greatest. Funny how they kinda fit into this story.

Wendy and Amy. -The lovely wives of the Pits. Brave, brave, patient women.

Mike Decay. -What a guy. Chick magnet, rock and roll fanatic. Some of the best shows Jimmy and the Teasers have ever played were organized by Mike Decay.
Stacy. Chapel Hill vixen. Wide open and havin' fun, her last job taught her quite a bit about sex toys. Not the best driver in Orange county.


So we hoped the Chapel Hill show would make up for all the losers that didn't come see us in Winston. It was a slow afternoon, exhaustion was catching up to everyone. I went to work for a while and came home to find a fierce game of horseshoes going on. Munched on the 20lbs of barbecue that Valerie had
purchased for everyone, and split for Chapel Hill about 8, Brian still in tow. Got to the 506 and was glad to see the Spinns, one of my favorite new bands. Met their new guitar player, a fine chap named Lawrence, and had a few after setting up. We decided we'd play first, then the Spinns, then the Pits, so suggested by the sound man who pointed out that the Pits would "wreck the stage". Many friends showed up, although neither the weather nor the weeknight helped at all, and we got going around 11. Had fun, thought it sounded OK, kinda a normal 506-y set. Valerie DID finish off another ride cymbal.

The Spinns played and utterly kicked ass, the Pits really dug them, which was cool. Thurn started collecting empty beer cans and lining them up across the front of the stage. Ammo to hurl at Dusty. And hurl we did, after one particularly brutal shot to the head I actually felt sorry for Dusty and let up, although I did manage to whack Ryan in the face when he got up to sing The Crusher at the end of the set. It was a great set and we were having a ball, but... In the interest of all parties involved, I'll just say a mic got broken, and the Pits were put in the position of paying for it, and it was a big, unhappy mess. There, how's that?

So it's pay to play again, which is getting old. Anyway, just before the Pits went on Wendy and Amy (Morbid and Booze's respective wives) showed up, driving down, as they were, for the Halloween festivities in Atlanta. Along with them they brought Mike Decay, close bud of the Pits and a friend of ours who used to promote some shows in Philly. He lives in NYC now, and was showing some serious Halloween dedication by making this trip. Sometime during the evening, Chapel Hill Stacy decided she wanted to follow back out to the Ranch, but that she needed some gas. So now we have a four car caravan of hellions screaming through the rainy bible belt night. We stop at a gas station and go inside to be stared at. I walk out just in time to see Stacy back her car into the concrete thing that keeps you from running into the gas pumps. An excellent, and, might I say, quite effective invention. Also I noticed that Ryan had barfed all the way down the side of the Pitsmobile (van...or ASTROVAN?). I was glad we were the lead vehicle. Somehow we made it back to the Ranch unscathed. Despite the fact that we were due in Atlanta the next day, we stayed up to six A.M. discussing... something. Who knows?


Chapter 7. HELLOWEEN. Actually, it was lovely.

ADDITIONAL CHARCATERS: EVERYBODY!!
Jim Stacy-Rock and Roll Hero? ROCK AND ROLL KING. His ASTONISHINGLY BEAUTIFUL queen Ginger. Shane Morton Rock and Roll ARTIST (French pronunciation there) and nonstop hellraiser. HIS ASTONISHINGLY BEAUTIFUL wife the devilish Calu. Lisa, Doll Squad member and Red Head Goddess, was WAY TOO NICE letting us stay with her for 2 nights. Dave Parker- another Star Bar owner and relentless break dancer. Montegue: Woggles guitar player, owned the grooviest car we saw all week and is ALWAYS THE COOLEST no matter how retarded I act. Rocket Phil 350, Brotha in arms, drinker of much beer, coniesuir of reverb. Best friend of JATT and fan of Southern Culture. Adrian, Star Bar-tender and outstanding gentleman, quite good at locating me when I get lost. THE LIST GOES ON AND ON,
TOO MANY.

So by a weird twist of fate Halloween was the only night we didn't have a show. Things just hadn't worked out for us in Atlanta and then everything else we came up with had fallen through, and we finally got talked into just hanging out in Atlanta by Jim who has the ability to talk us into pretty much anything. I mean hell, we opened for Leif Garrett at the Star Bar.

Anyway, the fact that the Doll Squad Burlesque Troupe was doing a show sealed the deal for me, and we had assumed we'd need a day off to recover from injuries. So we got going at a reasonable hour and got to Atlanta by 7 or 8. The Star Bar looked awesome all decorated, and I discovered that when push comes to shove, I can support Jim Stacy's weight on my back without falling down. Don't ask. So, we grabbed food, had some fun shopping at Junkman's Daughter, generally messed around little 5.

There was a Ramones cover band at 9 Lives who were pretty fuckin' good, and even early the bars were getting really full. Shane had done an AMAZING job of turning the back of 9 Lives into a 3D Haunted House, it had to be seen to be believed. At 10 (or so, who remembers) was the event of the evening, for me at least, The Doll Squad. Man, I'm not just talkin' gorgeous women here, although they were all drop dead hot, but the show is just fuckin' great. Old school as hell, singing, jokes, card girls, the whole 9 yards. It was fabulous, well worth the trip. After that, well, it's a night in Atlanta. Star Bar drinks, photo booth, hanging out with cool Atlanta folk and skipping from bar to bar. We made a quick detour with Monty from the Woggles down to The Echo Lounge to see The Spinns and a bit of Southern Culture. Got to ride in Monty's bad ASSED 60 Olds. Awesome. The Echo was SCARY packed, loads of people. Hung out with Phil 350 and Josh from the Spinns. Got backstage where it was much more comfortable and enjoyed a good bit of SCOTS set before heading back to the Star Bar. Greasepaint was rippin' it up when we returned, and, aw hell, it just kept going and going until we wound up back at Lisa's and I decided that I'd sleep in the van.


Chapter 8 - This tour takes the Cake.

SAME GROUP.

Friday was pretty cool. Everyone kinda went their separate ways and did what they wanted in Atlanta. For Valerie and me, this meant Savage Pizza and some shopping around, as well as a beer here and there. Got stuck in a bit of famous Atlanta traffic and got to the Star Bar about 6 or so. Went down to 9 Lives to help Shane move out some of Gargantua's gear and wound up doing a shot with Calu. Heard some excellent jokes (werewolf? THEREwolf.) and had some great 9 Lives appetizer food. Loaded in down at the Star Bar (we were second on the bill) and hung out in the dressing room watching Shane airbrush horrible wounds onto people. The crowd was good for the night after Halloween, and ready for some hangover rock.

The Pits were the first to deliver, and, some technical difficulties aside, deliver they did. During their set, I suffered a moral dilemma: Should I throw things at Dusty? I mean, he surely DESERVES it and it is the last night of the tour but, jeeze, in the Star Bar? I don't wanna make a big mess for the guys to haveta clean up. Jim solved this dilemma when he walked in with an armload of small pumpkins. Yeah, real pumpkins. "Been saving these in my trunk to throw at Dusty". Well, hell yeah.

We started cracking the pumpkins open and throwing the guts at him. No dodging a handful of pumpkin guts. What a horrific mess, there were pumpkin seeds galore all over the stage, as well as some burnt pumpkin pieces which landed on Dusty flaming drumset at just the right time. Thank You, it wasn't easy. So beer is flying, pumpkins are flying, at one point some point someone remarked to me, "Man, if I didn't know you guys were friends, I would think this was AWFUL. You threw a 'caution: wet floor' sign at the drummer man". I replied "oh, that's OK, it's his." Dusty smashed his drums one last time for this tour and lept off the stage and returned the sign to me quite forcefully. Cool.

So now our turn. I KNEW I was in trouble, although as Jim swept away the remaining pumpkin bones I felt pretty safe from a pumpkin attack. But I didn't know what else to expect. So as we get started I see that this ain't gonna be easy. I'm getting PELTED as I well deserve, I dunno if Dusty was even getting ONE DRINK off the tops of those beers before he threw them at me. But, from what I could tell, the show was going pretty well, and I still hadn't fallen off the stage. So we keep kickin' to the end of "Patent Leather" when Valerie and I had arranged for a surprise. During our afternoon shopping we had picked up a few things for Thurn's birthday. One of them was a big ass sheet cake, which we had stored in the cooler behind the bar and now had delivered to the stage by the lovely Amy Booze. Yeah, I dunno WHAT we were thinkin'.

Anyway, Thurn blows out the candles and Jim cuts the cake into lots of small pieces. A couple get taken and during the next song I walked over and force fed some to Thurnbie. I got hit with a few pieces that were being thrown around (damn tasty cake, as I remember) and even had to change guitars because icing and guitar stings aren't compatible. So, the last song is "Can Your Pussy Do The Dog", which Morbid had been singing the whole tour. I invite EVERYONE onstage and we take off. Dusty is behind the drum kit rubbing icing onto Valerie and licking it off, and, one thing I will never forget, is Jim, playing Valerie's floor tom and grinning like Satan in hell. There are still small bits of cake and pumpkin flying, Thurn has given up playing and Lawrence from the Spinns (who I just met two days ago, remember) is playing her guitar while she dances. Chaos.

So the last verse is coming up and outta the corner of my eye I see Booze with 2/ 3 of the sheet cake coming right at me. Reflexes take over and when he lets it fly, I duck. It misses me completely. And hits CHARITY. KA FUCKING BOOM. Cake went EVERYWHERE. Despite the fact that Charity had a gigantic glop of cake on her shoulder, the icing flew like some sticky fireworks explosion. People in the front were wiping cake off their faces, and guitars, drums, amp, PITS were covered in cake. Charity's bass became unplayable and I think me, Lawrence and JIM finished the song because Valerie was laughing so hard she could barely play. It was ABSOLUTE BEDLAM. Dusty came off the top rope at the end of the song and clobbered me, and cake was being thrown everywhere by this point. It was fabulously trashy for damn sure.

"It took A WHILE to get cleaned off. It was an incredible mess. I got to see the last bit of Lust, who had the greatest costumes. They were dressed like "Cereal Killers", i.e. Count Chockula, Frankenberry, ect. Cool. They had a fun set, although not nearly as messy as the first two. So it gets late and we have some more photbooth fun and then someone says "Claremont" and we all pile out into various vehicles to head to the most bizarre strip joint in Atlanta.

I'm not going to try to describe the Claremont, it must be experienced. You may be scared, you may be turned on, you may experience both at once. It's beautiful and disturbing, stays open to four A.M. and doesn't cost a nickel at the door. What's not to love? I wish I had a picture. All of us, all the Pits, all the Spinns, Shane and Calu, Jim and Ginger, Lisa, Adrian and god knows who else packed around that bar after two nights of relentless Halloween abandon. I remember some toast being made, and someone telling us to get the fuck out at 4. After jumping the Spinns van off (godDAMN what is that racket in the front of that van?) and picking up some tallboys, we went back to poor Lisa's. The sun was shining in a very evil manner when I crashed in the van after listening to records with the Spinns and Dusty for hours. Or at least 10 minuets.

We get up and split fairly early 'cause we had to get back to check on our dog (long story). I had to wake each Pit up to say goodbye. I felt really bad, but it was just exhaustion. OK, maybe it's a little more than that. Anyway, in a week filled with bad decisions we decided to stop at a McDonald's somewhere in South Carolina. I ordered more food than I needed, including some inedible chicken nuggets. The bill? $6.66

That was my Helloween, Teaser people. I don't know if I've ever had more fun or have ever been on a tour that seemed both SO short and SO long. I doubt we could possibly find a band more like minded than we are, and in fact, one of those drunken nights I found a quote, which summed up our whole mindset for the entire week. It goes:

"Acrobats are never so interesting as when they're falling ".

I scribbled it on a barbecue stained paper plate and taped it to mantle at the Ranch. Needless to say, it's still there.

jb