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Hoodoo for Voodoo premiere Murder! Romance! Candy corn! Goats! These are but a few of the things you'll find in the locally produced horror-comedy Hoodoo for Voodoo, set to premiere at Universal's CityWalk. Shot in Orlando and New Orleans in 2005 (before the hurricanes) for $25,000, the film follows a group of college students who win a trip to Mardi Gras and find themselves fighting for their lives after visiting a tourist attraction out on a bayou. Hoodoo is the brainchild of director/writer/producer Steven Shea, a UCF film school grad and founder of Abyssmal Entertainment, whose previous doom-filled films include Clarks and The Night Owl. Billed as the "voodooiest movie ever," Hoodoo for Voodoo doesn't end at the movie theater; the audience is invited to AKA Lounge for an after-party featuring the hardcore bands on the soundtrack. (screening 6:30 p.m. at Universal CityWalk; $5 includes film and after-party; 321-303-0990;

Martini Fest This year, the street party featuring martinis and other yummy concoctions has moved from Wall Street Plaza to the Latitudes-Chillers section of Church Street. You'll find an array of drink stations, club girls and plenty of music to dance to in and around the adjoining clubs. Whether you like to try the latest recipes for martinis carrying silly names or traditional mixed drinks, there won't be a shortage of your favorite libation — or of people sucking them down. (6 p.m.-9 p.m. on West Church Street; $25-$30; 407-649-4270;


Dustin Diamond Don't confuse Dustin Diamond with Screech. The 29-year-old actor-comedian is desperately trying to move beyond his Saved by the Bell days — so desperate, in fact, that he turned to the realm of adult films. Saved by the Smell, featuring Diamond having sex with several women, is being shopped to distributors by his agent. The career strategy, according to reports, is that maybe the down-and-dirty film will get him some attention. Any attention. The truth is, in June, the poor guy had to sell T-shirts on the Internet just to save his home from foreclosure. Diamond needs you to let him make you laugh. (7:30 p.m. and 9:45 p.m. Friday-Saturday, 7 p.m. Sunday at the Improv Comedy Club and Restaurant; $14-$16; 321-281-8000)


HallowScream III To the untrained eye, every night at the Parliament House could be misinterpreted as a frightening zombie mingle — just check the distended pallor of the predatory shirtless types making their perpetual loop around the balcony … and try not to trip over a drag queen. But Halloween, especially pre-Halloween (gay people get antsy, see), lends the whole masquerade a playful focus. In this case, a not-at-all-frightening "Dungeon" theme is promised, conjuring thoughts, perhaps, of Eastern European darkroom reach-arounds — over the skin, under the leather, itchy. Expect Screaming Pumpkins, Voodoo Venoms, Witches Brew and unwanted advances of the overtly sexual variety, all capped off with a more-frightening-than-usual drag show in the Footlight Theater at midnight. Boo, bitch. (8 p.m. at the Parliament House; $8; 407-425-7571)

Tourgasm Some of you may be feeling cheated that this Tourgasm stop doesn't include Dane Cook. After all, he's the guy who started the whole thing. As for us, we couldn't be happier, because we find Mr. Cook to be one of the most insufferably self-absorbed and unoriginal comedians on the planet. Watching the HBO series that chronicled the first run of Tourgasm, we were routinely struck by how much better the other three comedians on the bill were than Cook, who mainly coasted by on his ridiculously good looks and the wet-panty screams of the hordes of coeds who showed up to see him. (OK, Jay Davis wasn't all that funny, but at least he was devoid of the massive ego that infects Cook's every utterance.) Robert Kelly is an offensive, neurotic and asshole-ish mess (that's the kind we like), while Gary Gulman and Davis go for a more straight-ahead brand of laughs. We hope that means that this will resemble a comedy show instead of a frat party. (7 p.m. at Hard Rock Live; $34.50; 407-351-5483)

Black Bear Festival For its eighth annual celebration of the threatened species, the Florida Black Bear Festival once again takes place in the honorable city of Umatilla, otherwise known as "the gateway to Ocala National Forest." The forest itself is home to some dark and scary creatures of the human variety, which is too bad for the dwindling community of Florida black bears that have always called it home. The flavor of the festival fits its host city — nothing fancy, but genuine and down-home in its pursuits. Central Florida Zoological Park will bring the real deal for an animal encounter. Music will play all day from bands the likes of the Remnants, a bluesy foursome from nearby Tavares. Head off on one of the popular field trips into bear country guided by rangers from the United States Forest Service, who'll be emphasizing how to safely coexist with the animals, whose habitat is being invaded by development. Floridian authors and environmentalists will give presentations, and merchandise will be sold to benefit the save-the-bears cause. (9 a.m.-4 p.m., Cadwell Park, Umatilla; free; 407-323-1298;


Kathy Griffin Patently offensive terms of backhanded endearment aside ("Where my gays at?"), Kathy Griffin has chiseled quite an engaging niche for herself (and a few on herself), thrashing around in D-list celebrity, gossip and the ironic roots that only expensive red hair dye can cover. The plummet/whiplash from Suddenly Susan to Celebrity Mole Hawaii only made her bite more toothy, while her Bravo reality series, My Life on the D-List, has kicked her out of imminent Joan Rivers red-carpet doom and into (failed) Emmy contention. Last year, she went to Iraq and ditched her thieving husband, which should give her plenty of material to guffaw in the immediate direction of her gays and whoever else might be in the way. (8 p.m. at King Center for Performing Arts, Melbourne; $30-$50; 321-242-2219)

Del tha Funkee Homosapien

When Cali hip-hop hits our turf, things tend to get weird. The left-coasters always seem strangely happy to be performing on the other side, while Floridians look on with tilted heads, as if glimpsing aliens who've managed to shakily learn our language. That's not likely to change with the arrival of veteran Del (that loving vessel for the undead in the Gorillaz' "Clint Eastwood") and his Bay area partner, Motion Man, whose wit and irrepressibly nasal delivery might be the last best chance to witness the (post-crunk) hyphy fad firsthand before it's played out — in 3, 2, 1 … (with Mike Relm, Bukue One; 9 p.m. at the Social; $16-$18; 407-246-1419)


Alice in Chains It would be convenient to posit that the death of Layne Staley was a primary factor in the canonization of Alice in Chains for the post-grunge generation. Truth be told, though, the band had already made themselves the grunge band for the masses. More than Nirvana, more than Pearl Jam, it was AIC that made the biggest impact on mainstream rock. By injecting the right amount of dumb, mooky metallurgy into their down-tuned dirges, they appealed to a much larger audience. As far as influence goes, try this experiment: Think about radio over the past decade and count the number of bands that sound exactly like Alice in Chains (or at least have vocalists that sound exactly like Layne Staley). That number eclipses the combined amount of Nirvana, Pearl Jam and Soundgarden clones by a factor of at least 10. That influence, combined with Staley's death, has undoubtedly given AIC a larger stature in grunge history than they deserve, and this "reunion" tour (with stand-in vocalist William DuVall) seems overblown — to everyone except those teeming masses who worship the band. (8:30 p.m. at Hard Rock Live; all ages; $40-$45; 407-351-5483)

Contributors: Amber Foster, Jason Ferguson, Billy Manes, Susie Orr, Justin Strout, Bart Zino




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