The Freehold Unexplained Circumstance Knowledge Society investigates paranormal activity in the greater Freehold, NJ area. This webseries chronicles their most extreme lockdowns. This time, the guys to to the Guttenberg Storage Facility to see if they can capture the apparitions seen by the night janitor.

It had been nearly thirteen days since my roommate had requested my absence in the name of self-induced ejaculation. Needless to say, I was rather concerned. Cliff wasn’t your average stroker; in fact, this was probably the only area in which Cliff was actually above average. I had been spanxiled so often that I grew accustomed to the sounds of his free hand relentlessly clicking the mouse and his knee vibrating the desk drawer in which his keyboard lay.

As the two week mark approached, I was feeling rather uneasy about Cliff’s new found abstinence. I needed to reassure myself that Cliff’s built up sexual tension wasn’t going to erupt into this burly bastard flipping out and strangling my neck with the ferocity that only his penis truly understands. The possibility frightened me so much that I decided to conduct a voyeuristic study using the spyware I made in Comp-Sci, and the purse-cam my girlfriend uses to blackmail the professors she’s sleeping with.

“Maybe Cliff just changed his schedule” I thought, “perhaps he’s only rubbing it out when I’m in Comp-Sci lab or waiting for my turn to sleep with Amanda.” But to my surprise, his internet browser hadn’t visited anything owned and operated by ‘Naughty America’ since I implemented the cookie. In fact, the only website he visited on a healthy basis was TheFacebook.com. I assumed he must be jerking off to every girl who belonged to the “I kissed a girl” interest group; sadly, the video tape proved my theory wrong.

When the hell was Cliff relieving stress? I nearly shed a tear as I considered the possibility of never hearing “get out of the room, faggot” ever again. So, I decided to work up the courage to confront my roommate and ask him when he’s taking care of business.

It was a Wednesday night and Cliff was about to come home from the Japanimation club at any moment. He entered the room, placed his book-bag on the bed and I opened my mouth. But before I got to say anything I noticed that he had a stain on bottom of his pants. In fact, he had a few stains on the bottom of his pants. These weren’t normal stains; these were the undeniable, dense stains that only seamen can leave behind.
That’s when it hit me. Japanimation club! This wasn’t a nightly roundtable meeting in appreciation of Asian cartoons, but rather a massive circle jerk inspired by the freeze framed image of the small mouthed, large breasted, round eyed Asian goddesses that inhabit these animations! I nearly cried with joy.

I stormed out of my room and ran to my girlfriend’s dorm. “I figured it out!” I shouted, “I know what he jerks off to.” She started to blush as if I caught her doing something wrong. She then responded, “Well, you’re half right.”

Apparently my oriental slut bag of a girlfriend had been posing nude for these wannabe animators for the past two weeks. “It’s not exactly as circle jerk. The hand job is just a bonus I give to the best artist, and Cliff is actually a very talented artist,” she added, “If you would have just fast forwarded that video tape you would have found out for yourself.”

Well, at least I know Cliff isn’t going attack me in my sleep.

I gotta start dating some normal fucking girls.

As we all know, Hollywood often fails to stay true to the novel from which the screenplay is adapted. To even the playing field for all of you, I have decided to paste letters from the chapter in the book that Keanu and Sandra left out.

Just a sample of my hip, cool, online Journal.



Name: Chris Catch
Job: Computer Technician
Age: 31
Sex: Mostly Male
Location: Poughkeepsie, NY
Last Update: September 7th

“Chris and the Amazing Fanny Pack of Privacy”
While I was in the bathroom at work today my co-workers decided to rip open my fanny pack and dump the contents all over my desk. To their surprise they found four bottles of lubricant and a condom. Not wanting them to get the wrong idea, I reassured them that the items were for “anal sex only.”

As usual, my boss overreacted and conducted a “more intensive” background check and discovered that I was arrested for statutory something or another a few year back in Jersey. State law prohibited them from firing me, but then they found a picture of my boss’s grandson in my desk drawer and now I’m unemployed.

People are pretty sensitive these days I guess.

Current Song: Since You’ve Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson
Current Mood: Betrayed/Bloated/Stand-offish
Emoticon that Best Explains my Current Emotional Status:

Sure, fucking an older woman is fun when you’re actually doing the fucking, but everything leading up to the sex pretty much blows. However, nothing blows quite as hard as going to see her eleven-year-old son’s spring concert.

I mean, there’s usually a system of checks and balances, for instance: knowing her head will be methodically ramming into the unlocked bedroom door while I pound her from behind is worth riding shotgun in the minivan to pick her kid up from soccer practice. Or having her and I take her son trick-or-treating in a two-person horse costume so I could covertly fuck her while we walk from house to house is worth waiting in line a K-Mart to buy that little cunt rag his Harry Potter lunch box. But listening to three hours of tone-deaf retards butcher my favorite songs needs to be reciprocated with some of the nastiest, freakiest, most traumatizing sexual experiences I can imagine.

Of course I decided this before the first intermission. So as soon as the curtain dropped I dragged her to the lobby and had her suck me off under the refreshment’s table. Naturally, she expressed how inappropriate she thought it was, but I reminded her that I drove us to the concert and unless she wanted to walk her kid home down twenty miles of poorly lit highway she better swallow her pride, her gum, and whatever else accumulates over the next ten minutes. She couldn’t resist my charm.

As we walked back in to see act two of my own personal hell she realizes that she had missed the parent-child concert photos and begins to cry. Of course I didn’t know this at the time so when I asked, “What’s the matter? Got your period?” she spit in my face and ran back to the lobby. Normally I wouldn’t mind the saliva but unless she used an invisible toothbrush, it means that my nose was basking in pimp juice.

Five minutes later she came rushing through the auditorium door with a Polaroid in her hand. Lucky for me I was waiting by the entrance so her momentum complimented the hardy slap I greeted her face with. Unlucky for me her son was holding her hand and started crying.

I tried to explain to the principal that she had it coming but apparently my actions were “inappropriate,” so I “inappropriately” kicked him in the nuts. Suddenly a couple of three hundred pound housewives with paper machete badges restrained me and dragged me outside. I figured if I played my cards right I could score digits from one of them, but they stayed silent until the cops came.

I never did get to see the end of the performance, but from the little I heard, it sucked. Overall, I’d give the concert one and half stars and I would not recommend it to a friend.

Aliens are Racist. I let it slide in “Independence Day” on the account of a black man saving the planet, but Whitey went too far today with the DVD release of “War of the Worlds.All these movies start off the same way; the Aliens scan the globe and strategically place UFOs over the cities that have the most black people, wait for a riot to break out, then do a drive by of mythic proportions.

It’s always like:

You’ll never see:

Whitey pretends not to be racist by hiring white actors to play black roles. I read the script for “War of the Worlds” and nowhere does it say the main character is white. All it says is that he is a broke construction worker from Jersey whose baby’s momma leaves him with his bitchy daughter and a teenage son who likes to steal cars. But Whiteywood decided to cast Tom Cruise and Dakota Fanning and pretend like no one will notice. And once again, when the Aliens choose where they want to attack, they fly their asses right passed North Dakota and decide Jersey City’s gotta go.

The rest of the movie we follow this family as they steal, shoot, and kill people until they make it out of the Ghetto and back to the suburbs where the sky is blue and the only Alien around is the Mexican mowing their lawn.

The real question is ‘Why?’ Why bother making movies where Aliens are two Toby Keith songs away from wearing white robes and pointed hoods? I’ll tell you why: it’s because Whitey saw “Contact” and they know that Aliens can intercept our satellite signals and learn all about our society. That’s why statistically “Independence Day” will be on HBO more than “Big Mamma’s House.” The government wants to make sure that if the Aliens come, they go straight for the ghetto.

So, if you want to see a good Alien movie, rent Earth Girls are Easy, because that shit tells it like it is. And more importantly, don’t believe what you see in the movies, if Aliens come down to Earth they aren’t gonna be blue or green, they’re gonna be white.

As a public service announcement to all you guys out there who fantasize about banging that hot girl in Calculus who gets an additional forty-five minutes to take every exam, I have put together this helpful little list: