So, a group of friends got together and went on this stupid ghost walk tour thing through Plymouth last weekend. I gotta stop agreeing to these things without paying attention. This was the idea of the chicks I know, I thought it was a haunted house or something. I had a fishing tournament that day down the cape, it was cold and windy and I'd been up since 3am working off 4 hours of sleep. I didn't realize I'd be walking around Plymouth for 2 hours listening to a bunch of gypsies tell ghost stories! Hahaha. I was exhausted!
This lady was out of her fucking mind! She was screeching and screaming and re-enacting all these "events" she was detailing. I wanted to kick her ass! She kept telling these stories about people on the tour taking photos and videos and seeing ghosts, but of course, those people never wanted to give the tour gypsies the footage, or it was "in the mail." Haha. Fucking hippies.
Anyway, all my friends were taking photos and whatnot, getting all crazy excited over the "orbs" in the photos because, of course, those are ghosts and shit. So then one of the chicks takes a picture of me sitting on the wall of this cemetary. Holy fuck! I'm a ghost magnet!

It looks like it's snowing. There's a shitload of "orbs" around me. I moved, she took another picture of the same spot: nothing.
The gypsy tour guide said I can probably communicate with the dead and not even know it. She said the ghosts are trying to communicate with me.

I've seen The Entity. Not fucking cool. Here are the two pics.
Before:
After:
