Summer in South Florida: Blockbuster movies, rainy tropical afternoons, and no school. While this teen-friendly combination drives gaggles of 16-year-olds to the local movieplex, you want to enjoy your favorite Marvel superheroes in peace on the big screen without having your seat kicked and while eating something a little more gourmet than stale popcorn. Behold iPic Theaters in Mizner Park, where all ages are welcome, though some might appreciate the iPic angle more than others. Seating is reserved, starting at $14 per leather recliner. For just $10 more, a "Premium Plus" ticket gets you a pillow, a blanket, and gourmet food and beverage service from a full bar. Just push a little button on your armrest and your server hustles on over. iPic Boca Raton has a resident mixologist as well as tasty treats — the flatbreads come highly recommended. Aside from the food, the crowd is quiet, the theaters are clean, and the sound quality can't be beat. Sign up for the free membership program to reap the rewards of upgraded seating and discounts at the snack bar.

Brian Andrews has ridden out a series of wild personal adventures — including playing "El Gringo" on TV in Bogota and escaping a Colombian kidnapping attempt — to find his way back to South Florida on CBS4. For this, we rejoice. Few television reporters in South Florida offer more charisma or insider knowledge of the region than Andrews. The dude is 100 percent élan, and his vibe perfectly fits Miami and Broward. You'll never catch Andrews looking like he's going to a funeral. He pulses with color, just like our wacky state does. And Andrews' stories, whether they detail the latest on a murder or a major storm or some international intrigue, always go further to bring us the news we need now. We can authoritatively say that Bogota's loss is South Florida's gain. Welcome home, Brian Andrews.

Pixie dos aren't exactly common in the ranks of South Florida news anchors. Smart-sexy vamping is usually the standard MO. But the woman now steering WSVN-TV's weeknight newscasts is holding down a niche in the market. After nine years on-air, Belkys Nerey has jumped from reporter to style correspondent to anchor, building up a faithful audience with an on-camera approachability that's the antithesis of frosty and fake. The charm doesn't seem to drop when the cameras turn off. In fact, she's probably the only member of the local anchorati you could approach in public without getting your face chewed off. That genuine vibe is built on hometown credentials. Born in Cuba, the 46-year-old grew up partly in Miami and later studied journalism and communications at Florida International University. Today, Nerey is the informed voice guiding viewers through the daily highs and lows at 5, 6, 10 and 11.

The sidekick always gets overlooked. Be it Robin to Batman, Garfunkel to Simon, Biden to Obama, or Chewbacca to Han Solo, the sidekick is mostly seen as comic relief, with little else to do. But then there's Jonathan Zaslow (Zaz), the venerable Kato to Marc Hochman's Green Hornet of 790/104.3 FM The Ticket's morning drive program, Hochman & Zaslow. Zaz has played several roles for the station, from being a reporter to producing a show to hosting the Miami Heat pregame show (which he still does). What endears us to Zaz is his unapologetic die-hard love for the local teams, his intelligence, and his dry-cut sense of humor that seems like a perfect foil to an otherwise goofy morning show. Zaz delivers his lines straight but with tongue firmly in cheek. He's passionate without being a meathead, and there's no better host to answer trolling opposing teams' fans phone calls than Zaz, who is always ready to cut them down to size with his wit and his sports knowledge. As the man himself would say, "Zaz is your boy!"

There are few institutions here in South Florida that can truly be considered history-making. Besides defying the odds after doctors said he'd never walk, the "Pimp With the Limp" — Cuban-American DJ Laz (born Lazaro Mendez) — went on to pioneer a movement of freestylin' booty-bass music that helped put Miami on the map back in the '90s. He continues to serve as a pillar to our sun-soaked, Latin-infused South Floridian cultural identity. Formerly the flagship personality of Miami's number-one party station, Laz parted ways with Power 96 last year after a 22-year love affair and has since moved on to host the morning show on the new South Florida bilingual party station, DJ 106.7. Even though ratings currently trail those of his previous station, we're confident that this smooth-talking, bass-bumping, diamond-encrusted-watch-wearing jokester has all the personality and staying power to become America's Latin Howard Stern.

Who would have thought the reigning queen of South Florida hip-hop would be a five-foot-two, 22-year-old lil' lady from Fort Lauderdale? But it is so! Editor Ashley "Outrageous" Ocampo has been at the helm of all things rap since 2008 on her blogspot turned superblog, the aptly titled Fashion, breaking news, mixtapes, the hottest sounds... no matter how many snapbacks you own or "dope" rhymes you spit, she has the juice before you do. And whether it's sweet or sour, it's right there, accessible on her site. Not only is she blogging but she's also interviewing big names like Schoolboy Q and T.I. In keeping with her nickname, the petite blogger asks each rapper, "What is the most outrageous thing you've done?" She's also turned her talents south to help promote the enduring '90s hip-hop weekly at the Garret Peachfuzz, which never fails to make you sweat like a freak in heat. She's also set up some impressive local rappers like Sin as openers for headliners like Curren$y and Kendrick Lamar. If you want to know what the future of hip-hop is in the age of the internet, take a good look at Ashley Outrageous.

There are only a few things that really matter in the almighty, mystifying Twitter-verse: being funny, being inappropriately personal, and being a trash-talking mensch. If you have all three of these elements — along with some shred of preexisting real-life fame — well, you're bound to shoot across the internet cosmos like a great, beautiful, blazing ball of fire. Donald Trump doesn't let anything get in his way, and whether he's giving relationship advice (as in "Robert Pattinson should not take back Kristen Stewart. She cheated on him like a dog & will do it again — just watch. He can do much better!"), expounding on environmental issues ("It's Friday. How many bald eagles did wind turbines kill today? They are an environmental & aesthetic disaster."), or waxing poetic on integrity ("The cheap 12 inch sq. marble tiles behind speaker at UN always bothered me. I will replace with beautiful large marble slabs if they ask me."), he always somehow manages to hit the nail right on the head with those 140 characters, creating a cyber ripple effect to Asia and back. We're only glad "The Donald" makes his family home in Palm Beach part of the year so we can revel in the fact that part of his glowing celebrity belongs to us.

Twitter is a funny thing. It gives us a glimpse — ugly and real as it may be sometimes — of famous people like Jennifer Capriati. She's been tennis royalty since she broke onto the scene at the tender age of 13 in 1990. She was fearless, talented, and powerful. In the first three years of her pro career, Capriati won six singles titles and an Olympic gold medal. Her fall from grace was swift when, in 1993, she took a yearlong break from the sport only to find herself in trouble with the law for shoplifting and pot possession. But then she came storming back in 1998, winning Wimbledon once and the Australian Open twice and regaining her spot as a top-ranked women's tennis player. Just last year, she was selected to the International Tennis Hall of Fame. But her postplaying days have been distressing, as the world would soon learn via her Twitter feed. Earlier this year, bizarre tweets from Capriati began to emerge. At first, they sounded like a teenaged girl in a relationship crisis. But then things got darker. "Besides the truth + my strength prevailing. The only thing I want is this man to be stopped + for a mother + her son to get what they deserve!!" read one rancorous tweet. Capriati would soon be arrested and charged with stalking and battery on her ex-boyfriend. Allegedly, she sent more than 280 text messages to him, punched him several times, called his business 50 times in one day, and pounded on the windows of the business. She also allegedly stole his phone and harassed him in a Publix parking lot. Capriati has always been viewed as a sort of bad girl of pro tennis. She's trying to find her inner peace now, though. One tweet at a time.

It was the sip heard around the world. On February 12, 2013, Florida Sen. Marco Rubio became parched during the Republican response to President Barack Obama's State of the Union address. His mouth was so dry, in fact, that people in Manitoba, the Guizhou province, and even the Cook Islands reported hearing the slapping and smacking of Rubio's dehydrated tongue on his palate — with the TV off. As he rambled on about the economy, it became clearer that his maw was as arid as the Atacama Desert, moistureless like a scalp in desperate need of Head & Shoulders. With the whole world watching, Rubio ducked, almost out of the camera, to quench his crushing thirst. He sipped daintily and nervously from the tiny Poland Spring bottle, and the entire universe slowed for about five seconds. Suddenly, it was back to "big government" and "big businesses." The entire internet then sat back and celebrated the best drink of water in the history of the galaxy.

The only question we have about Tortuga is... Why the hell did it take so long? Seriously — this is the first time a massive music festival has been hosted on the actual sands of Fort Lauderdale Beach, even though the idea is so obvious. It's like six-foot-eight LeBron James waiting until he's 30 years old to say, "I'm tall — maybe I should try playing basketball." Better late than never, we suppose — the two-day affair could hardly have been more awesome. It had beach cleanups, games and booths, tons of beer, great security, fast lines, giant burritos, and most important, Michael Franti, Donovan Frankenreiter, Kenny Chesney, and Lynyrd Skynyrd doing their thangs. (Note to organizers: More womenz next time, plz.) It was good times (and perfect weather) from the minute gates opened until the last note of the last set, when sunburnt partygoers had all built little bunkers out of sand, like human sea turtles. Out-of-town party people, local yokels, beachfront businesses, little kids — they were all stoked. Wait, one more question: When's next year's?

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