A Very Florida Halloween 🎃🌴🧟‍♂️

Halloween is supposed to be spooky, sure — but when the It Happens in Florida crew celebrates, it’s less “boo” and more “what on earth just happened?” 

This year’s Florida-style Halloween started with the costume contest. Nobody dressed as a vampire, witch, or ghost. Nope. Instead: 

• The director showed up as a Publix sub. (Extra pickles, of course.)
• One of the extras wrapped himself in caution tape and declared he was “Florida Road Construction.”
• And someone thought it was a great idea to glue plastic iguanas to their shirt and go as “Falling Iguana Season.” Terrifying and accurate.

Things only got weirder when the crew went trick-or-treating. Instead of candy, neighbors handed out:

• Beef jerky
• Mini bottles of hot sauce
• And, in one case, a live baby gator (don’t worry, it was returned… mostly).

The haunted house? Forget ghosts. The “scariest” room featured a Florida Man in swim trunks grilling hot dogs at 3 a.m., blasting Jimmy Buffett, and offering suspiciously warm cans of Natty Light. The crew agreed this was more chilling than any haunted clown.

By the end of the night, the cast was bobbing for oranges instead of apples, someone set off fireworks in the middle of the corn maze, and Oscar swears he saw a skeleton driving a golf cart down the street — though that might’ve just been a retiree from Boca in really good makeup.

So, Halloween in Florida? Spooky. But mostly… absolutely, wonderfully, weird.

Happy Florida Halloween, y’all. Stay safe, watch out for gators in costumes, and remember: if you hear a chainsaw, it might just be someone carving a jack-o’-lantern out of a watermelon. 🍉🔪👻

When the Blogger Slacks, the Chaos Attacks

Last week, something absolutely unthinkable happened.

John — yes, John, the writer of It Happens in Florida and proud creator of our beloved Florida Friday blogs — forgot to write one.

Now, you’d think this would be a minor blip, a small oversight in the grand timeline of “Florida Weirdness.” But no. The cast and crew didn’t take it lightly. You see, when you build your entire week around Florida Friday chaos and then the blog doesn’t appear… well, things unravel. Fast.

First, the cameraman showed up to set dressed as an alligator. Not in a costume. No, he had duct-taped pool noodles to his arms, painted his face green, and insisted on being called “Gator Steve.” The sound guy refused to record him, claiming, “We don’t mic reptiles.”

Then, one of the extras hijacked the snack table, declaring it an independent nation called “Snackistan,” with Doritos as its official currency. Negotiations quickly broke down when John (still blogless) attempted to pay for a cookie with a granola bar.

Meanwhile, the director was spotted trying to wrestle a plastic flamingo off the roof of a van because “if John’s not working, someone’s gotta keep the spirit of Florida alive.” We’re not sure if she won.

By the time Friday actually rolled around, the entire crew had staged a mutiny. Their demands? More dog treats, an inflatable kiddie pool in the office, and a legally binding promise from John never to forget a Florida Friday again.

So, lesson learned: if the blog doesn’t get written, the crew will descend into Florida-level madness. And trust us, no one wants to see what happens when the snack table officially secedes again.

Stay tuned — John swears he’s back on track… unless he gets distracted by a gator in the Publix parking lot.

Florida Man vs. Dog Treat Commercial: Chaos Ensues

Only in Florida can you try to film a wholesome commercial for a dog treat company and end up with a scene that looks like a rejected Jackass audition.

The It Happens in Florida crew was on set last week filming a spot for Furry Friends Delights—a sweet little company making healthy, tail-wagging treats for dogs. Things were going smoothly: happy pups, camera rolling, perfect lighting… and then he appeared.

Yes, Florida Man.

Like a swamp spirit summoned by the scent of peanut butter and bacon, he broke onto the set, sprinted past the director, and began devouring the dog treats straight from the prop table. The dogs looked confused. The crew looked horrified. Florida Man looked… satisfied.

But it didn’t end there. Nope. After his snack raid, he spotted a blow-up pool flamingo (don’t ask why it was there, just accept that it was Florida), tucked it under his arm like a prized football, and bolted off the set. Rumor has it he was last seen floating down a retention pond shouting, “These are MY treats now!”

The commercial? Well, let’s just say Furry Friends Delights didn’t exactly get the wholesome family vibe they were going for—but they did get the most Florida advertisement ever filmed.

Because down here, the dogs aren’t the only ones willing to beg for treats.

Oscar Goes Hollywood (Literally)

So… Oscar has officially decided that the best way to get It Happens in Florida funded is to head straight to Los Angeles. Yep. Hollywood. Land of palm trees, overpriced avocado toast, and people who think a “medium coffee” is a personality type.

Oscar’s logic was simple:

“If we’re making a Florida TV series, then the only logical place to find money is the city that thinks everyone in Florida actually lives inside a theme park.”

Armed with nothing but a suitcase full of sunscreen, three pairs of jorts, and a pitch deck he printed at Office Depot (the Naples one, not the fancy California kind), Oscar boarded a plane and took his talents west.

Step One: Find an Agent

Oscar’s first stop was an “exclusive” coffee shop where every other customer was apparently writing the “next big Netflix show.” He figured if he loudly mentioned “alligator wrestling meets true crime documentary” enough times, someone would slide him a business card. Instead, he got three confused looks and one guy asking if he could Venmo Oscar $5 for his latte.

Step Two: Pitch the Executives

Oscar marched right up to a studio gate, told the guard he had “the next Tiger King but with more humidity,” and somehow convinced them to let him inside (Florida confidence is a superpower). Once inside, he gave an impromptu pitch involving sock puppets, a plastic flamingo, and a surprisingly convincing reenactment of a Florida HOA meeting. Rumor has it, two executives are still laughing. Another is in therapy.

Step Three: Make Friends in High Places

They say networking is everything in Hollywood, so Oscar went where all the deals happen: a taco truck line. By the time he reached the front, he had pitched the show to six aspiring actors, one confused tourist from Iowa, and a dog named Biscuit. He considers this a success.

Step Four: Bring Florida to LA

Not content with waiting, Oscar staged his own “Florida-style investor mixer.” He rented a kiddie pool, filled it with Publix sweet tea, invited strangers off Sunset Boulevard, and started handing out gator-shaped business cards. LAPD shut it down after 47 minutes, which, honestly, is longer than anyone expected.

The Outcome

Did Oscar come back with millions in funding? Not exactly. Did he come back with sunburn, a screenplay written entirely on cocktail napkins, and a contact in Hollywood named “DJ Reptile”? Absolutely.

So while the money may not be rolling in yet, Oscar has put It Happens in Florida firmly on the Hollywood map—right between “Fast & Furious: Retirement Edition” and “Sharknado 12.”

Stay tuned. Because if there’s one thing we know, it’s this: if it can happen anywhere… it can happen in Florida.

Florida Friday… And Whenever the Hell We Want

We know what you’re thinking: “Oh cool, It Happens in Florida is doing a Florida Friday blog!”

And yes, we are. Every Friday, you can count on us to deliver a fresh dose of gator-wrestling, Publix-parking-lot-chaos, and Florida Man mayhem.

But here’s the thing ... Florida doesn’t wait for Fridays. Florida doesn’t care about your calendar. Florida doesn’t even know what day it is (and if it does, it probably got arrested at Waffle House before sunrise).

So while we’re committed to Florida Fridays, we’re also going to hit you with Florida content whenever the hell we feel like it. Tuesday afternoon? Boom: Florida Man rides an ostrich down I-95. Wednesday morning? Surprise: someone tried to sell iguanas door-to-door. Sunday at 3 a.m.? Don’t ask, just know it’s Florida.

In short: Fridays are for Florida. But Florida is for every day. And we’re here to prove it.

Stay tuned. Or don’t. Either way, Florida will find you.

Oscar vs. Publix: The Great Hurricane Cake Comeback

Only in Florida could a cake cause this much drama.

For those who don’t remember, a few years back Publix quietly pulled their infamous “Hurricane Cakes” off the shelves. These were sheet cakes decorated with swirls of blue frosting, candy palm trees, and ominous little icing storm tracks—basically, the only dessert that doubled as both a party centerpiece and a Category 3 warning.

Well, Oscar remembers.

This week, he launched his own one-man campaign to get the Hurricane Cake reinstated. Armed with nothing but determination, a sharpie, and an oversized petition he printed at the library, he marched straight into his local Publix bakery section.

“I demand cake justice!” he announced, startling a poor woman who just wanted a half-dozen chocolate chip cookies.

Oscar’s plan was simple:

1. Convince the bakers to make him a Hurricane Cake.
2. Convince Publix corporate to let Hurricane Cakes make a triumphant return.
3. Convince the National Hurricane Center to issue frosting updates along with storm updates.

(He’s still working on Step 3.)

Unfortunately, Publix employees were not swayed. One manager explained, very politely, that “decorating disasters” might not send the right message during actual hurricane prep season. Oscar countered with:

• “But hurricanes and cake are both Florida traditions!”
• “Storm shutters don’t taste like buttercream.”
• “What am I supposed to eat during spaghetti model updates, kale?”

When logic failed, he attempted a sit-in by the bakery case, only to be lured away with a free sample of key lime pie.

As of now, Hurricane Cakes remain a thing of the past. But don’t count Oscar out just yet. He’s already talking about launching a grassroots movement called Category Yum and swears he’ll stand outside Publix with frosting-covered protest signs if that’s what it takes.

Because in Florida, you can take away our beach umbrellas, you can take away our lawn chairs in 60 mph winds…

…but you will never take away our right to storm-themed baked goods.

Stay tuned.