Movie Pass – or — How I learned to stop worrying and love the big screen

I’ve never been a big movie theater guy, but I think that’s because I’m cheap. It costs over $10 for your ticket, or you go in the middle of the day for $7 or so. Then, god forbid you want to snack. A popcorn and soda will set you back roughly the same as a nice 4th floor walk-up in Manhattan for the month. But that’s ok, because they have combos, which include the paper-work for the obligatory 2nd mortgage on that same Manhattan Apartment.

But a company called Movie Pass is starting to change that. Has anyone heard of this magic? If not, look it up. I’ll wait……

Before I dive into how it works and my "review" of it, I want to wax poetical for a bit.With the ability to see movies the way they’re “meant to be seen” as the movie hipsters say, I’m finding out why people like the theater experience, or at least why we do. Riss and I talked about it, when you watch a movie on the couch at home, there are distractions: I’m cooking (or ordering in because I’m a lazy piece of garbage), I’m on my phone, texting Tinderellas, people are talking, I have to have the captions on just to understand what the living hell is going on, the cats are jumping on me or spazzing out. In the theater, there is none of that. I’m off my phone for 2 hours, paying attention. People (usually) are quiet and still, but there is still the energy of other people. You laugh at things you wouldn’t have otherwise, you jump at scares you would’ve been bored by at home, the collective emotion of the room is like an extension of the movie itself. And the sound! That seat shaking, pace-maker stopping bass that only the freaking dolby speakers the size of a small refrigerator can produce. This is it. This is why people go. And now my cheap ass can go too! I can feel like one of the greedy capitalist fat-cats. King in the castle, bitches. King in the castle.

Pictured: Nobody on their damn phones

Basically, it’s like Netflix for Theaters. The way it works is this: you sign up either through the app or the website. At the time of writing this it was $9.99/month, and you can pay monthly or pre-pay a full year. Once you’ve signed up, they mail you a debit card. Once that arrive, you use the app to “check-in” to a certain movie at a certain theater at a certain time. They put the money on the debit card, and you buy the ticket like normal. 

If ONLY getting up to $300 of movies a month for $10 isn’t enough for you, you greedy capitalist pig-dog, you can also sign up for rewards cards for the different theaters. Signing up for the Regal Crown Club for instance, I automatically got a free popcorn. You can earn things like free concessions, free movie swag, and sweepstakes. It’s basically free points! One of the coolest things I saw was over the glasses 3-D glasses. I hate 3-D movies because wearing glasses OVER my glasses is stupid and gives me a headache, so that’ll be a cool thing to get.

There are only a few stipulations with the program.

1. You can’t do IMAX and you can’t do 3-D, but I don’t care about that stuff anyway (There goes my awesome 3-D clip-ons! Damn you, cruel fate!). 
2. It only works at certain theaters. My city has 3 movie theaters, and they all participate, so that’s not a big deal, but you probably can’t do the late-night kung-fu theater in that shady part of town. 
3. You can only check in if you’re within 100 yards of the theater. Oh no! I have to go to the theater to buy the ticket for the movie I want to see… at that theater…. Ok, whatever. Wait, does that mean I have to talk to the cashier? Fuck no, it’s 2018! Most places have kiosks! The future is NOW! 



Pictured: The sweet, anti-social future!

4. That’s literally it.

As I said, I’ve used it twice in the few weeks I’ve had it. Each time it’s been a simple and straightforward process. Not to mention, theaters are really starting to up their game with reclining chairs and creature comforts like full bars. For $10 a month, I can do that. I can see the movies the way they are meant to be seen. I can be an opening weekend kinda guy, provided they aren't sold out when i get to the window. 

Wizards and Wands: The Fyre Fest of Nerdy Bar Crawls

Not all events can be winners. Wizard and Wand in Raleigh had all the ingredients for success, but unfortunately it turned out to be a boggart.

I had seen the event and since several of my friends are major Potter-heads I thought it could be fun. I'm down for anything involving crafts and costumes. Eddie went ahead and bought a ticket while they were on sale for $22. I procrastinated as I often do. A little closer to the event they put up a post asking for people to work the event. Eddie and I actually love that type of thing, so we figured why not. It was only a 3 hour shift to help them get started and you got a free wristband for the rest of the night, not a bad gig. We checked in at 2pm and helped hang a few things on the walls. By 2:30 the line was already starting. They gave us an extremely fast crash course and set us up with our jobs. I was punching tickets for the swag table and Eddie was just supposed to direct the crowd towards the table. The line was endless. From 2:45 until 5pm I punched tickets non-stop.

I have to admit this was probably the most polite crowd I've ever worked. Even after waiting for hours—yes hours—not a single person was rude by the time they got to us. There were some great costumes in the bunch. You could really feel the crowd’s excitement; everyone was pumped to be there (or at least faking it for their date). A couple of people had asked about a scarf that was supposed to be included, but we had no idea about any of that and they didn't make a fuss, so I didn't really think much of it. Unfortunately, it turns out that there was supposed to be completely different items offered at the swag booth, including a Hogwarts scarf and a butter beer (which turned out to be a 2oz sample). That was not clearly mentioned to the volunteers or the crawlers so it left a bad taste for many people. The wands that were promised were chopsticks dipped in wax, and the cup was just a cheap plastic cup with advertising space. They did give out Kind Bars though, so there’s that.

   

As 5 o'clock drew closer I was ready to go. I'd been using a hole punch for hours and was ready for a drink. Eddie's position was more flexible so he attempted to find someone in charge to let them know we were leaving and to get our wristbands. He couldn’t find anyone in charge. At 5, we did our best to cover our posts and left. The line when we got outside was unbelievable! Our friends had come to Raleigh to join us, and they got there at 3:30. They were just then, an hour and a half later, getting wristbands. They weren’t even inside the first bar, yet! As a group we decided to give up on the opener bar, and head directly to the 2^nd. The line here, too, was around the block. Nope. So we decided to head to the park area where they had the rest of the festivities. As we drew near, we saw a long line here too, and gave up.

We wandered around Raleigh and made our way to several bars. One bar, I can’t remember the name, WAS affiliated with the crawl, however it was not on the program list and was empty. Everywhere we walked, we saw Hogwarts students who had given up on the crawl proper and were just wandering.

From what we saw, and the outcry from social media, the Wizard and Wand Bar Crawl was definitely not a hit. People were cold, waiting in long lines. The swag that was promised was mediocre at best, if they existed at all. It was poorly organized and not well executed for the amount of people that showed up. But, luckily for us, we can have fun anywhere if we have the right people around us.

Ain’t No Party Like a Grown Folks Party!

~Riss and Edd

Look at that sweet line-up!

A grown folk party don’t stop! Riss and I are gifted with dumb luck at weird times. I’ve won a free tattoo, a diamond tennis bracelet, several concerts, all from just entering random stuff. This time, Riss won a cabin on Ship Hop 2018. What is Ship Hop you ask? Ship Hop—Hip Hop on a Ship, get it?—is part music fest, part nostalgia fueled fever dream, all fun! Though not a “music fest” in the traditional sense, it was a 4-day voyage of concerts, meet and greets, Q&As, and much more. It was our version of a luxurious music experience, and luckily for all of us, Ja Rule had nothing to do with it. (That was a Fyre Fest joke, kids.)

Look at that thing, so scandalous

Riss and myself have both been on several cruises, but as soon as we stepped on board we knew this one would be different. Right away we heard unedited versions of Ain’t Nothing but a G Thang and Gangsta’s Paradise in the main atrium. Everyone was immediately excited to talk to strangers, almost like they were old friends, and bonded over a shared appreciation of a simpler time. It was like a reunion. Generations of family members traveled together, but left the kids at home.  We saw less than a dozen children the entire trip. Nearly everyone seemed over the age of 25. Almost nobody was awake before 10AM. There were costumes everywhere. It was our type of crowd, our type of weird, and it was heavenly.

Even Rob got in on the action..
 #flatrob!

But let’s talk about the real reason we’re all here: The artists. These dudes killed it! Despite jokes from Kid N Play and others about being old, they were still full of energy, and their voices were as good as ever. Sisco hasn’t aged a day since Thong Song, though he’s still REALLY into his “Dragon” persona from the early 2000’s, which hasn’t aged nearly as well as he has. Despite being over 60, DJ Kool was bouncing around stage, having way more energy even than some in the crowd. There were rough seas due to some storms in the Gulf of Mexico, but the dancers were still landing backflips on stage. Young MC can still flow with his “Fastest Rhyme,” and Salt N Pepa are still looking and sounding great and even showcased some of their more recent music! I’m not going to say that hearing a version of Gansta’s Paradise performed by Coolio in front of a live band was life changing, but I will never be the same again. 

Mr Loc, I must say that Blank Check
changed my life. 

During the last concert on the last night, Riss and I both fucked around and became non-ironic Vanilla Ice fans. Vanilla Ice was, by far, the hardest working promoter on that ship. He was in just about every performance we watched, whether he was slated or not. He hosted a beach party at Paradise Beach during the day in Cozumel. He was loose with the tequila at the bars, and was always ready and willing with a smile, a photo, and an autograph. 

During the first day, Vanilla Ice said that “We’re all teenagers this week.” These guys took that challenge to heart. These people raged until 4 AM every morning, and kept going the next day. This would be a theme throughout the entire cruise, even the last night, when we all had to be off the ship by 8AM. 50 year olds were partying circles around my 31-year-old ass. This was easy to do because there was more than just the music. This is why I wouldn’t refer to this as a “music festival” but more of a “music experience.” In addition to the normal band/fest swag, there was also both a body paint booth, and an airbrush station.  I’ll say that again for the hard of hearing: there was a damn body paint booth in the main drag of this cruise ship. They set up events like dance lessons with Salt n Pepa’s and Sisco’s dancers. There were meet and greets with everybody that were completely free. There was even an event called “Cooking with Coolio.” There was an artist Q&A, where I learned that Salt n Pepa and Kid n Play all used to work at the same Sears store at the same time. I got my picture with a freaking movie quality NINJA TURTLE!! During the comedy show, a cruise-ship staple, Kid from Kid n Play got on stage as the MC. I had no idea Kid was so funny. If he had a Netflix special, I’d watch the hell out of it.

At the end of the 4 days, Riss and I had made some friends, I discovered a love of new (old) music and songs, and had a GREAT time. I would recommend Ship Hop to anybody that wants the feel of a multiple stage, multiple day music experience, but also wants a warm shower and a comfy bed. It was a beautifully diverse and accepting crowd. As Vanilla Ice kept reminding us, “get in where you fit in”.

Sports? Fights! Insanity.

Riss and I were in Ohio for Thanksgiving and while we were there, I scored free tickets from a family member for us to attend a local, minor league hockey game. The Cleveland Monsters are the closest thing we have to a pro hockey team. "Pro sports" is an extremely lenient term Ohio uses for the teams we pour money into up there. Well, we went to “The Q" or Quicken Loans Arena. Any Ohio sports fan will know this is the home of the Cleveland Cavaliers.

All that means nothing to Carissa. She doesn't give a damn about sports. Any sport. Now, I need to point out that I've never been a hockey fan, or known too much about it. So, when I got the tickets, I got really excited to go to start watching a new sport. Plus, the Monsters are supposed to be pretty good. Finally, a sports team Cleveland can believe in! (Spoiler alert: they lost) I was ready for the experience. Carissa had doubt in her eyes, but still was more than willing because she will try almost anything once.

90% Preperation
200% Perspiration

We arrive, and we're only a few rows up from the ice. I venture off and find some nourishment, and by that, I mean I located some $3 beer and overpriced, but tasty, wings. Carissa watches the players skate around and warm up. When I get back she goes, “Why is the field so small? I thought it would be bigger”, but at the time she can’t explain WHY she had this thought. It turns out, my wife did “know” a couple things about hockey: there are fights and it's played on ice. This, to her, meant it would be played in a frozen tundra, where human beings have only ventured once or twice before. She had begun the day wearing a coat, a sweater, a thermal, two scarves, a beanie, and some mittens. It's a comfortable sixty degrees inside the arena, and as soon as I return to our seats, Carissa immediately strips half of her warming layers. Only half though, she still looks like she is bracing for a storm, and now I look equally ridiculous buried under her discarded shame.

The game that day was the Cleveland Monsters and some team from Texas. Now, the Monster's mascot, for your information, is a monster poking the top of its head out above water. Carissa quickly pointed out that it's just an eyebrow wax away from copyright infringement. In all fairness, he does bare a striking resemblance to a certain creature, from an animated movie series about training large scaly mythical beasts. Anyway, the Texan team’s colors were green and white. The same green and white adorning the hoodie worn by yours truly. Shit, well too late to do anything about that now.

Pictured: The mascot equivalent of music sampling

As the players were called on the ice, the "humongatron", seriously, that's what they call it, the humongatron, told the crowd to "MAKE SOME NOISE". We disobeyed. Not just Carissa, my parents, and myself. No one among the crowd made any noise. The apathy was palpable.  The game soon begins and we sit there, somewhat confused about the exact rules. I know some basics about hockey and Carissa knows absolutely nothing, she is just hoping for a fight.

Pictured: Defiant Silence

Early in the 2nd period, she gets her wish. Two cats get into it. I glance at Carissa. She's grinning broadly, and slightly shadow boxing. I did the same thing when I was little and watched boxing with my father, so I recognized her unbridled joy. I also have to laugh about her open silliness, but that's part of why I love her. The two guys go at it for a minute or two, before making their way to the penalty box, or "hockey jail", as it was dubbed after that. You can guess who said that. She even pointed out it's convenient that they fought so close to it, so they wouldn't have to skate too far to it.

Pictured: The saddest cheer leader gig ever. 

Occasionally through all this, the humongatron continued its efforts to rouse us. It gradually became more effective. Near the third period, Carissa had a sudden epiphany. Out of nowhere, she shouts, “MIGHTY DUCKS! That’s why I thought that the rink was small! I guess because they’ll all children it just looked bigger.” Even the toughest of men couldn’t help but giggle heartily at this. More importantly (ridiculously), Carissa had tasted blood. She demanded another fight. She said random things to the players. "He kicked your dog", "He made out with your sister", "He said that the Starz original series Spartacus was better than Game of Thones!". She was really hoping for another one, even cheering when the original fighter hit the ice. This unfortunately never happened again, much to her chagrin.

My favorite part, through the thrill of the game, through the heat of the battle, was the humongatron. This thing was as silly as it could have possibly been. I watched seagulls sing and dance. I watched a Corgi twerk in multiple colors. It just continued to drag my mind through the lower rungs of insanity. It was just logically broken. It was LSD soaked nightmare fuel. I loved it.

At the end of the day, hockey is an awesome sport. I could never play it, but after this game, I actually would really enjoy watching it again in the future. Carissa still doesn't know a thing about the game, but she likes fights. I can drag her to many more games, a husband’s dream.

Analog Dating in the Digital World: Pretty Fly for a Fat Guy

~Edd

Ah, Tinder. The bittersweet shit show that is modern dating. Tinder is the digital equivalent of posting up at the bar and eye-fucking people across the room. Eye contact and a smile? Now you may approach. Now, as somebody with natural charm and a few extra pounds, that’s no obstacle as long as you’re willing to put in the work and approach first, lay on laughs and show them you’re what they actually want. 

Herein lies the problem with apps like Tinder, Bumble, and the lot. You have a profile, but the pictures are the most important thing. Unless there is a REASON to read the words there, nobody does. 

Now, on Tinder and Bumble, my charm means exactly dick. I am not allowed by the App to talk to people unless they find me attractive. I’m not able to coast by on my looks, being a bigger guy, I have to work for the attention I get. So, you may ask yourself, knowing these things, what’s a funny fat guy to do? Well I could write the words below my pictures and hope they chuckle and give me a chance. I could posts pictures that show I’m quirky and lovable, with puppies and costumes and bullshit like that. I could hope for a chub-chaser. All of these are too passive. I’m a brand new bitch that’s no longer waiting for things to just come to me.








So the big question: is it working? It's too early to know for sure, but the short answer is "Yeah, seems to." I've had 17 matches in 4 days, including 2 "super likes" and a few people even speaking FIRST. Compared to other tinder-attempts, that's damn solid. Most people comment on the pictures specifically. My favorite was one of the super likes that started the conversation with, "YOU BROUGHT YOUR A GAME!" 

So if you want to try something like this and have questions about logistics, comment below. Or, if you like what you see, slide on in my DMs, girl. Rawr

P.S. Totally kidding about the DMs part.

The meaning of X-mas

~Edd

It’s the most wonderful time of the year, with the kids jingle belling and everyone telling you, “Be of good cheer!” It’s the most wonderful time of the year….. Bah….

I’m not the biggest fan of Christmas. Hell, If it weren’t for the joyful nostalgia, and the fact getting called a “Grinch” every two seconds is MOST annoying thing on planet Earth, few would be.  It’s an overly-commercialized lump of coal, shamelessly plagiarizing pagan solstice rituals with a thin veil of vaguely religious undertones. The stress of holiday traffic, braving the stores, hoping your gift doesn’t suck (and that you’ve remembered everyone on your “list”), spending time with families, the COLD. Jesus it’s no wonder the holiday season has the highest depression and suicide rates of the whole year!

The above has been my Christmas experience. I’m a Scrooge, a Grinch, a Humbug, whatever you want to call me. I figured this would continue into the future, but this year was different. Let’s talk about it. During the wedding, I met Rob’s parents. Parents like me, that’s not unusual. I’m a good mix of witty and respectful, and I match dad-jokes and (nearly) always side with the parents in good-natured razzing of their child. Cool. This time was a little extreme, however. Within 72 hours of meeting them, Rob’s Dad brought me up—during Rob’s wedding—to dance with Rob and his Mom, during the mother/son dance. I did not ask for, joke about, or provoke this in any conscious way. I was just as surprised as anyone else when I got up there. After that, they called me son. I called them “mom” and “dad” respectively, and they whole-heartedly invited me for Christmas, with “the family.” It was a Kodak moment, to be sure. I didn’t think they were serious; they were very serious.

Riss and I went with Rob up to Cleveland for Christmas. We’ll post about the details of the trip in a different post, but I want to touch on a few things. This was my time ever in Ohio, so I had no idea what to expect, except cold. I knew it would be damn cold on Christmas in Cleveland.

I was welcomed with hugs and cheek kisses the same as Rob. They doted on me and cooked for me and treated me like family. Christmas eve was a small family Christmas with White Elephant for the nuclear family and aunts/cousins, a group of maybe 12. After they left, it was just us and we opened presents. Between Riss and Mom, I had just as many as anyone else. The gifts were heartfelt and wonderful. When I was growing up I remember getting a box of books. My mother told me, “I know you like to read, so I got you the biggest books I could find!” Now, I know her heart was in the right place, but these books were not from the same author, genre, anything. I recall one was a horticulture text book. No, this was different, these gifts were special to the person, and you could tell actual thought and effort went into them.

It snowed that day, and stuck, and was light and fluffy and wonderful. I had never had a white Christmas before. I’ve been in Chicago for 2 different Christmases, and New York in the middle of December, but I’ve never seen real snow. It was wonderful.  

Christmas day we went to Rob’s aunt’s house for the big family Christmas. There was food and drink and basketball. I chatted at length with family members I’d never met, and they treated me like one of the gang. Everyone that met me just accepted that I was there. Now I want to be clear this was not an “island of misfit toys” situation with everyone trying a stray and that’s normal. No, I was the only one not married or related, but it didn’t matter.

Aside from Christmas proper, mom and dad asked me embarrassing questions about my love life, about my hopes and dreams, about how I was feeling and what I thought. We got into an awkward conversation about religion. It was so different from what I’m used to. They seemed annoyed that I was on my laptop for the first day. In my experience, that’s what “family time” is: everyone staring at their respective screens, with the TV going, nobody speaking to each other, except to frequently ask a question about whatever movie is playing because they weren’t paying attention to that either. We played board cards. Mom put together a “prize board” with 15 envelopes with mystery prizes in them. This means we played at least 15 games over the course of the week.

I cried. This was what people remembered about Christmas. This is what the people “miss” when they grow up, and what everyone wants to recreate or rekindle with the family they make. This was what, at 31 years old, I finally understood.

In 2018 I’ve been to Spain and Paris. I’ve been in 2 weddings with great friends. I’ve been promoted and quit from a successful company. But all of that paled in comparison to the feels I got that week. It really was the most wonderful time of the year. Now as I head into 2018, I wonder how I’ll feel next year when it’s time for Christmas lights and wassel and all that bullshit. I’ll probably still hate the traffic, but I’ll have a new nostalgia to tap into. Wish me luck.

St Augustine: America's Oldest City

~Edd

During the sad sack that was my ill-fated trip to Pensacola, Riss was already planning our next stop. To get to Pensacola, FL from Wilmington, NC you have two options: Atlanta or Jacksonville, FL. On the way down we took Atlanta, and so we chose the Jacksonville route for our glorious return. For Riss’s honeymoon, her and Rob had gone to St. Augustine, which is a scant 30 miles south of—you guessed it—Jacksonville. Riss was pretty sure that I’d love the place, too, so she was determined to take me. Since I had turned down the job, was still unemployed, and honestly could use some cheering up, I agreed.

In order to maximize our St. Augustine time, we left Pensacola at 3AM after a super solid nap. On the way, we stopped at an all-night Whataburger. In college, I had a friend from south Georgia that told tales of Whataburger. When passing the sign, I remembered these stories, and knew that my time had come. For anyone that has never had or heard of Whataburger, do yourself a favor and go. I had a chorizo cheeseburger, Riss had a pretty dope patty melt, and they were both glorious!

We got into St Augustine at about 9:30AM. Sadly, hotel check-ins aren’t until 2PM, but the Old Town Trolley Tours start running at 9! Old Town runs a hop on/hop off route around the town, with new trolleys coming by every 15 minutes. We rode the entire route first, then hopped off at some of the stops we enjoyed the most, including a *FREE* tour and tasting at St Augustine Distillery. We also ate lunch at Prohibition Kitchen, a speak-easy style place with a fantastic grilled cheese and even better milkshakes (pro tip: get the
one with the booze.)

Stuffed and entertained, it was finally time to check into our hotel: The Ponce. They’re currently renovating, but that didn’t affect the room or the view, and it cut the rate way down. Midday naps are boss!

We woke up right before sundown. Riss wanted to see the Nights of Lights that Old Town does around Christmas. According to National Geographic, St. Augustine is one of the top 10 places to see holiday lights in the whole damn world. Source.  After doing the tour, I can see why. They even gave us glasses that refract the light and make the individual lights look like snowflakes. I’m a self-
proclaimed Grinch. Christmas isn’t really my bag, but sitting in the trolley, in 60-degree weather, seeing this already beautiful city lit up, that shit was magical. I’d say my heart grew three sizes that day, but I’m still a right bastard, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves. 

After getting off the light tour, we walked the 4 blocks back to the distillery. Upstairs from the distillery is the Ice Plant Bar and restaurant. We sat next to this incredibly memorable guy and his incredibly forgettable girlfriend. She was not impressed with his joie de vivre. We were impressed, both with his lust for life AND with the food, all farm-to-table super bourgeois and delicious. The cocktails are made with the liquor from the distillery. All-in-all, this is a good place and a great atmosphere.


We took an uber back to the hotel, slept well, and left the next morning after check-out. It was right at 24 hours that we spent in St Augustine, but the city left a very positive and lasting impression on me. I’ll definitely be back. I may even like Christmas lights, but just a little.