On Sunday evening, a 25-year-old man from South Florida named Peter Paul William Ferrero climbed down from the Palin family's third-floor balcony, approached an arriving Bristol Palin in the driveway, took off his sunglasses, and proceeded to tell the terrified 23-year-old reality television star and oldest daughter of the failed vice-presidential candidate that he wanted to speak with her, Alaska Dispatch News reported yesterday.
Palin, who had her five-year-old son Tripp with her, told Ferrero to back off, Wasilla police say, but Ferrero "continued to approach her," the newspaper reported. The affidavit added, "Ferrero said he wanted to have ten minutes of Palin's time to explain his issues to her."
Kevin Adorno wanted to combine his bucket list with his engagement. The 28-year-old graphic designer from Uniondale, Connecticut, always wanted to bike down the East Coast from Maryland to Miami, and he decided that once he arrived here he'd propose to his girlfriend.
Unfortunately, Adorno met a sad end when he was stabbed by a homeless man outside of a Vero Beach McDonald's.
Isabella's Turn is the rarest of things: a porno with a truly unexpected ending.
It begins normally enough. A busty brunette named Isabella walks into an all-white office room. A sleazy dude with hand tattoos says, "So what brings you here today? You want to be in a pornography movie?"
"Yep, because I like to have sex," Isabella answers. "You know, making a little money off of it isn't so bad either. So why not give it a shot?" Sleazy dude takes photos. The two get naked. Yadda yadda yadda. You know the rest.
It's only when the cameras stop rolling that shit starts to get weird.
It's the dinner hour at Dolphin Mall, and the food court is a busy hive. Teenagers guzzle from Smoothie King cups while tables full of abuelitas fire Gatling-gun Spanish over steaming plates of Lotus Express. At the Segafredo Zanetti Espresso kiosk, a young girl in black shirt and pants offers a sample tray, her face wearing a look you'd see in a dentist's waiting room. People snatch toothpicked mini-sandwiches off her plate. She stares off, bored and brooding. Then an immaculately white suit sleeve crosses her vision.
"Hola, linda," comes the scratchy growl. Her head snaps like a jack out of the box. Is it? There's the cue-ball dome, the jester's grin, the sunglasses hiding half his face like a limo's tinted window. "Oh my God," she purrs. "OH MY GOD!" She locks bugging eyes with the stranger. "I love you!"
The sign on the corner of West Flagler Street and SW 35th Avenue is huge and explicit: "DESHACEMOS BRUJERIA," it says in white block letters over a red-and-black background, with an 800 number listed below. "WE UNDO WITCHCRAFT."
It's left many a driver doing a doubletake and mouthing, ¿Qué? Curiosity has built in recent months, with a Reddit post on the topic inspiring dozens of comments and a Twitter outburst speculating as to what the church is up to. The truth may actually be stranger than the internet speculation about bubbling cauldrons and Santería rituals.
If you've ever enjoyed the cheesy pleasures of Disney World's Pirates of the Caribbean ride, you've surely noted the numerous signs advising guests to keep their hands and arms inside the cars. It seems those are no idle warnings.
Pirates of the Caribbean, in fact, is a voracious finger-eating monster. Just a little more than a week after a British tourist lost parts of two fingers to the ride comes news this morning that a 12-year-old boy sacrificed four fingers to the cruel gods of overly drawn-out Johnny Depp franchises.