Weapons: A Horror Movie Experience… But Not For The Reasons You Think

My Saturday was supposed to be simple: yoga, a movie date, maybe a chill vibe. Keyword: supposed to. Instead, it turned into a rollercoaster of questionable clocks, cursed cinema snacks, and a fire scare that nearly gave me an actual heart attack.

Let’s rewind.

Saturday Morning Yoga: The Calm Before The Chaos

We kicked off our day with our usual 8AM yoga with Master G. And bless her—she gave us the same flow as Friday night’s session. You know when you do a flow and it just clicks with your soul? Yeah, that was Friday. So when Saturday came around and it was the same routine? I didn’t even complain. My hamstrings practically wept with gratitude.

The Great Cinema Schedule Misunderstanding

After yoga, Ralph and I headed to Ayala, all excited to finally watch Weapons—a movie I’ve been dying to see since I spotted it while watching the new Superman movie. Side note: that Superman reboot should’ve been called Super Dog, okay? Crypto carried that film on all four paws. Superman? Just vibes. Crypto? Action hero. End of debate.

Anyway, we thought it was past 11AM, so we bought tickets for the 2:25PM screening. Turns out Ralph was looking at the wrong clock. The 11:45AM screening was still an option, but nope—Ayala Cinemas said, “No switching.” So we had time to kill.

Monitor Shopping: Because Of Course

Ralph’s current Philips 4K monitor has been slowly dying. The backlight bleed is now so bad it’s practically auditioning to be the sun. So we went looking for a new ‘curved’ 4K screen, found one at Interpace, went back to Gardenville, hooked it up to his computer like the techie duo we are, and rushed back just in time for the movie.

And Now… The Real Horror Begins

Let’s talk about the actual Weapons experience. I usually go for Row F or G, but they were full. So I booked E6 and E7—seat E5 was already taken. Cool, whatever.

We got there first. Sat down. Chill. Then SHE came.

Seat E5.

She sat down. And immediately—it hit me. The scent of betrayal. She farted. Right there. I mean, sure, we all fart. But lady… maybe not in a confined space right next to my snackless self?

Fine. I survived that. But no one prepared me for what came next.

She started eating this chip—some nuclear-smelling thing that made my intestines do the cha-cha. It was vile. And it lingered. I tried to focus on the screen, but every time I peeked, she was still munching. I saw her crumple the first packet and I thought, “Yes! It’s over!” But no. Like a villain in a plot twist, she pulled out another bag. And then another. She was basically the final boss of cinema snack warfare.

The actual movie? It was okay. Not horrible. Not mind-blowing. Just okay. The real horror story was seated next to me.

And Then… FIRE?!

As if that wasn’t enough drama for one day, on the way home, we saw FOUR firetrucks racing past us. We slowed down… then panicked.

Smoke.

Coming from our subdivision.

My heart was doing burpees.

As we turned into Langka Street—there it was. The second house from the corner? ON FIRE. Firetrucks everywhere. People crowded. We couldn’t even drive through. We had to circle around and enter from another block just to get home. The smell. The panic. The adrenaline.

Thankfully, as I write this, the fire’s been put out. But the damage? Major. I don’t know what caused it, but this, my friends, is why I Reiki our house on the regular. Energy cleansing, protective symbols, divine shields—bring it all on. Because y’all, this world is wild.