MindlessBlather.net

9.21.2006

Something Creepy

I was just laying in my bed (in my dorm room at Ohio University) a couple of days ago and realized that several hours of having my floor lamp on had activated a glow-in-the-dark ink that was written on my ceiling. At first I was freaked out but as I read I found that it was just someone declaring his eternal love for his admiree, but to me it was much more. It was a profound way to mess with someone. Grab some glow in the dark ink and write death threats all over someone's ceiling. Yeah, that would traumatize somebody real good.

posted by Andrew @ 21.9.06  

9 Comments:

  • At 11:32 AM, September 21, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Best post on this site in man many months and it comes from Andrew?

     

  • At 3:17 PM, September 21, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Hey let's bring this blog back to life- have a contest on the most disturbing thing one could write in glow in the dark paint on the ceiling of your dorm for next years freshmen to find- and turn off the word verify it makes it very difficult to actually post comments

    Steve from Ohio (the other part)

     

  • At 9:16 AM, September 22, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    The lyrics to Disney's High School Muscial- all of the songs- or anything off of Sovietinamerica.

     

  • At 11:13 AM, September 22, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I would recomend the moldovian nataional anther 2005 vertion......
    or depnding on your artistic skills a picture of goatsee to make sure its a very sexauly frustrated four years.

    A treasure is our language that surges
    From deep shadows of the past,
    Chain of precious stones that scattered
    All over our ancient land.
    A burning flame is our language
    Amidst a people waking
    From a deathly sleep, no warning,
    Like the brave man of the stories.
    Our language is made of songs
    From our soul's deepest desires,
    Flash of lighting striking swiftly
    Through dark clouds and blue horizons.
    Our language is the language of bread
    When the winds blow through the summer,
    Uttered by our forefathers who
    Blessed the country through their labour.
    Our language is the greenest leaf
    Of the everlasting forests,
    Gentle river Nistru's ripples
    Hiding starlight bright and shining.
    Utter no more bitter cries now
    That your language is too poor,
    And you will see with what abundance
    Flow the words of our precious country.
    Our language is full of legends,
    Stories from the days of old.
    Reading one and then another
    Makes one shudder, tremble and moan.
    Our language is singled out
    To lift praises up to heaven,
    Uttering with constant fervour
    Truths that never cease to beckon.
    Our language is more than holy,
    Words of homilies of old
    Wept and sung perpetually
    In the homesteads of our folks.
    Resurrect now this our language,
    Rusted through the years that have passed,
    Wipe off filth and mould that gathered
    When forgotten through our land.
    Gather now the sparkling stone,
    Catching bright light from the sun.
    You will see the endless flooding
    Of new words that overflow.
    A treasure will spring up swiftly
    From deep shadows of the past,
    Chain of precious stones that scattered
    All over our ancient land.

     

  • At 12:33 PM, September 22, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    I nominate the following:

    How well it is I remember my own christening even though it was so many years ago. I had no idea boys now talked so freely of such things. In my own case we were not at the swimming bath but instead in the oak grove just beyond the cricket pitch. We were all there and as we baptized one another as only vibrant young men can we gave each new names. I can still remember that day, the dappled warm sunlight, companionship like that of the classical warriors of Greece, true brotherhood it was. We each took on new names- Admiral Nelson- one eyed and stern, Chinese- the last man standing in Khartoum, Lawerence, of course Lawerence- all revealed that while we may have thought of ourseleves as men we still had the interests of boys. Their were others as well. The Dowager Empress- little mean and unflappable, Watt- the little steam engine, and Cromwell with his roundhead up high. Of course there were the boys we all knew would turn out bad- demanding names like Augustus or Wellington as they conquered the smallest lads over and over again. My thoughts of course stay with my dearest mates Mowgli, dear Mowgli lost to us (as if by fortune) to the charms of a girl from Pondicherry, and poor brave Byron lost to the jungles of Malaya as his grandfather had been lost to Flanders.
    Lads listen to the advice of an old man and enjoy these days of baptism and christening with your mates for the world of pinched faced little wives, Pakistani son-in-laws, and above all, horrid discretion, is what awaits just outside your oak grove.

     

  • At 1:16 PM, September 23, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    How about this

    Pray Tonight for the Lord to give me the power to resist sodomy snd gluttony, to bring me a wife, to keep the President safe, and the pass ALL of my classes.

     

  • At 4:41 PM, September 26, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    Did you know that Senator George Allen (R VA)has a son named Forrest?

     

  • At 11:11 AM, October 02, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    How can you tell that Congressmen don't use bookmarks?

    Their pages are always bent over.

     

  • At 3:29 PM, October 07, 2006, Anonymous Anonymous said…

    INSERT UNINTELLIGIBLE BULLSHIT HERE!!

     

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