Twisted News: Ghost Stalkers

Paranormal Activity Titillates Sexually

PATS is an organization dedicated to stalking ghosts for sexual pleasure. Jimmy Bob Berry, Denny Waxoff and Andy Dumass formed the group after graduating from college together when they finally came to the realization that (for various reasons) they would never have sex with any human being. As time went on they soon attracted other like-minded individuals who were eager to, as Berry put it, “Get a good bone on and relieve ourselves while watching ghosts. It's not voyeurism if they know we're there. ”

Waxoff and Dumass were also available during the interview. Says Dumass, “I’m the original mastermind behind PATS. I’ve always had a deep fascination with the paranormal. It’s been a great experience so far. I’ll admit one misstep was walking in on Denny during a moment of climax, but he forgave me for that.”

Waxoff admitted, “It was hard to be angry at Andy. I mean, he unknowingly walked right into a jizz shower that day. And I never forgot to wear a condom after that.”

Berry claims PATS is very professional and detail-oriented. After taking care of business they clean up and leave no trace of their close encounters behind. And surprisingly, there is no shortage of haunted houses available.

“The phone rings every day,” a smiling Berry revealed. “People are always grateful when we show up with our equipment. They just want to know if it’s really a ghost in their building. They don’t care what we do when we get there. We get paid to do what we love.”

And exactly what kind of special equipment do they use?

“All we need is right here,” said Dumass, pointing toward his nether region. “In our pants,” he continued. “If we investigate a room and a ghost is present, it’s an automatic erection.”

Waxoff adds, “What could be better than this? Extra-terrestrials, that’s what. But we have yet to meet a willing alien.”

Dear John...

This is Elizabeth’s fake reply to John’s fake letter as posted here.

Dear John,

F*** YOU. This is all on YOU. Did you honestly think the truth would never come out? Seriously? Did you think for one minute you could not only cheat on me, but then just as easily chase me out of your life? Ah yes, that would be the icing on the mother f***ing cake.

You can plead ‘til the worms are slithering through your rotting corpse. I’m not going anywhere, babe. Not without a cage match to the death, you miserable man-slut.

I really do hate to rain on your parade, especially under the circumstances. You poor thing, you. What with all of the pressure, and the media exposing your lies... And now people are saying that bitch’s baby is yours too. I just can’t imagine what THAT must be like. BOO HOO.

You've really blown it, Johnny. I’ll never let your sorry ass off the hook. You’ll have to deal with me for the rest of your pitiful and pathetic life. Now I’m even more determined to keep my cancer in remission. If it comes back I'll fight it with a vengeance, only so I can give back all you have coming. Thank you for that.

Oh, and I WILL make your life a living hell. I'll be right by your side, haunting you at every turn. You phony, rotten, arrogant, deceitful, egotistical, slithering, back-stabbing, weaseling, lying, whore-licking, AIDS-sucking, cheating bastard!!!

Forever yours,

Elizabeth

Dear Elizabeth...

Dear Elizabeth,

I’ve been trying to put myself into your shoes lately. I’ve tried to see things from your point of view. But I’m afraid I, I just can’t do that. I just can’t imagine what it would be like to be married to a habitual liar with a cheatin’ heart. I have no idea what it’s like to suffer such public betrayal. The pain and humiliation must be terrible.

And in all honesty, I can’t believe you’re still with a man who would confess to your face he had many hot days and even hotter nights with a woman much younger and more attractive than you. Are you that needy? There ARE other fish in the sea.

Why don’t you just leave? Save what little pride you have left and get out now. I mean, Holy Jupiter! Why on earth would you want to stay? All it takes is a trip down to the courthouse. You can be a free woman! Hell, I’ll even point you into the direction of a good lawyer.

What in tarnation are you waiting for? It can only get worse from here on out.





Sincerely,

John

Magic beans, and what not...

I have this crazy sleep schedule. After a hard day’s work I lie on the sofa to watch some TV and end up passing out for a few hours. Then I catch a few more hours of sleep in the early morning until the phone rings at around nineish. It’s always a computer guy named Jim or gal named Jill who wants me to upgrade my cable to satellite or extend my imaginary warranty, or even consolidate my imaginary credit card debt. Point is, I could sleep through a tornado or monkey slapping my face. But for some reason I always jump out of bed and a deep sleep whenever the phone rings. So that works for me much better than an alarm clock. I’m pretty much awake the rest of the day. At least, until I get home from work. That’s how it’s been for the last few years or so. And now I need to change all of that. In fact, I just took a sleeping pill so I need to finish this as quick as a Vegas wedding so I don’t pass out and drool all over the keyboard. But that’s not a real scenario. Pills only seem to work when someone wants to get high. Well, I just need to hurry.

So my old boss called me about a week ago. I was his office manager for six months in ‘03-‘04 before he realized he could no longer afford to pay me. And regarding the business, he said, “Please! Just take it!”

Since then he’s started and apparently shut down another business that he ran without any outside help, and again started up an entirely new one. Now back to the phone call. I didn’t think much of it since he calls occasionally to see how things are going with me and/or needs a favor. One time I ended up selling sno-cones around town with one of his daughters from a golf cart because he got busy and needed me to take his place. And, he said I would pick up some extra cash. That only lasted about a month. After expenses and splitting the profit with his daughter, I raked in ten dollars a week.

Here’s how the convo went…

“Hey Alicia, sorry to call so early but I need to run something by you. Got a minute?”

“Uh… yeah. What time is it?”

“Ha ha. Hey, I’ve had this new business now for close to a year and it’s doing really well.”

“Tons of dough, huh?” Yawn.

“Like I said, it’s doing well. I have a new office in town, and it would be great if you would come work for me.”

“I’ll have to think about it. Can I keep my current job? ‘Cause I don’t really want to quit it.”

Translation: “I’m scared to death to quit a secure job when any time I’ve ever worked for you it’s only been temporary.”

“Hey, that’s no problem. We can work around your other job. Just think it over, and if you decide you want to do it give me the earliest and latest times you can work.”

Translation: “This I know. I will be your boss again. Muahahahahaha.”

“Sure, I’ll think it over and get back to you.”

Translation: “Oh shit! You really are serious, aren’t you?”

So I called him back on Friday, and he says this will eventually turn into full time with benefits.

Okay. Whatever!

I start first thing Monday morning. Wish me luck.

Facing the truth about politicians hurts

I really enjoy watching Anderson Cooper so I try to never miss his show AC360. He’s hawt. Anyway, I was watching Friday and it seems John Edwards (who has only been labeled 'hawt' by Larry Craig) has finally admitted he had this affair that he’d been denying for an eternity. Well, almost a year. But he’s not off the hook yet, and is obviously feeling the pressure from yet another accusation. In response to rumors that he impregnated his mistress, he’s now resorted to quoting Michael Jackson lyrics. “She says I am the one. But the kid is not my son.”

Seriously though, I like to think I’m fair 99% of the time. So, the truth: John’s mistress Rielle Hunter isn’t the one pressing the paternity issue. In fact, she doesn’t even want a paternity test done. It’s the National Enquirer. It seems they have a picture of Edwards in a hotel room holding the baby. The magazine is apparently trying to change its image from the number one source of heat and toilet paper for the homeless to America’s number one news source.

But I’ve known for a long time and have accepted the fact that politicians cheat on their spouses. Who cares about that? I found something newsworthy about Senators McCain and Obama and, well, to say I’m totally shocked and disappointed would be an understatement. It’s short so you should probably read it first. But proceed to the story with caution and keep your legs crossed. Remember, everything that oozes from these two stems from their one shared goal… getting lots of tail in the Lincoln Room. It’s just a lot easier that way.

I must admit when reading the article it really pained me to see a few of the candidates’ music choices.

ABBA? I can just imagine McCain with his wife’s iPod not long before saying that.

Sheryl Crow? Bob Dylan? These are on Obama’s short list? I’m speechless. I had him pinned as a Kenny Rogers fan.

And of course McCain just had to throw in, “But I like Usher too.”

Holy pandering politicians!

But what really cracked me up was what McCain essentially said about a character in the last movie he’s seen.



I think he may be on to something.

Just kidding, I think Harrison Ford should kick his ass.