She has confided in me that she lies awake during the long, torturous nights, tossing and turning, dreaming of OldScratch and willing him to be there by her side. She weeps for him, and longs to know if he’ll go out with her. (She also swore me to secrecy, but ah well) So will you do it, Old Scratch?
Oh fess up. You just wanna see a cat fight between Andy and Rasa. 
Rasa is gonna be pissed at you!
haha 
actually I’m holding out for an all-out mud fight, with skimpy bikinis and all…
Now, for the benefit of my reeling head, could you please enlighten us all as to what Andy you speak of?
IIRC, both Rasa and Scratchy are currently en route west by auto, so they may not be able to answer this for a bit.
I speak of AndyYrAStar. Though if it does come to a skimpy mudfight, you can join in if you like
The Great Philosopher, meet **TheVoiceofReason **.
We share the same shelf in the library, doncha know &)
Oh, god.
Andrew, when I said this would be funny, I meant it in a “have a snicker to yourself at the thought of announcing something absurd and the reactions it would get, and then completely forget about it” kind of way.
<bangs head against desk>
There, there.
<pats Andy on back>
If it makes you laugh, I nearly did a spit take until I realized that I couldn’t be the only female Andy on the boards.
Want me to beat him up for you?
An interesting but irrelevant question. After all, when Rasa gets tired of him, she already said he can be my cabana boy.
For a moment I was debating whether or not I should just let this die peacefully so nobody else would see it, but then I decided the idea of andygirl beating up Andrew was too good.
Yes, andy. Kick his ass.
Besides, Phil has a crush on… um… someone. So there.
I talked to oldscratch and rasa last night. They were in Des Moines after spending 29 hours driving.
Rasa joked about how she hasn’t wanted to kill him yet. Poor girl, little does she know, it’s just a matter of time.
I mean, I lived with the guy for almost a month and spent a week in a mental hospital with him. He bothered other patients so much that they had to put him in the rubber room for his own safety! Watching the nurses trying to put a straightjacket on him was way too comical. He’s so damn skinny that they had to keep running the arm straps around his body before they tied them off. Around and around and around…y’all shoulda been there. 
Oh, Crack’dOff, you just make me love him even more… dramatic sigh
[sub] Rasa, don’t hurt me, I’m only kidding.
maybe.
<runs>[/sub]
AndYrAStar,
Hey, what about me? I’m skinny, funny looking, and a mental patient, too! I’m almost single, and after looking at your homepage, we have something in common…my soon to be ex-wife’s name is Jennifer/Jen. I hate her, too. No, wait, I love her. No. That’s not it. I hate her. No. Yes. No. Damn. Time for more meds.
I’m probably too old for you, though.
Hmm. How old is too old?
And yes, you hate Jen. She is evil. She is anorexic, she needs to eat something. And she’s a skanky ho. Skank, skank, ho, skank. She thinks she’s so cool and punk. Yes, Jen, Blink 182 rules. Uhhuh. You look like a man, and that nose ring isn’t working for you. Take it out, you look stupid. In fact, you look stupid no matter what you have shoved through your nose. And your boyfriend makes passes at his female friends. hahaha. Haha. at least he had the decency to only think about things and not try to act upon them while he was me. That because you suck, and he knows you suck. So there. Die.
(im sure you can apply some of this to your jen, too, no?)
<sniff>
B-b-but…AndY? What about me? I…I thought you loved me.
<sigh> I should have guessed. Your recent lack of effort in bed, the way you look away when I compliment on your stunning beauty, and the fact that you’ve taken all those nudey photos of yourself away from me…those clues should have tipped me off.
<crumbles down>
Oh, how could you?
lmao
[dramatic confrontation]
Well, it all started when I found the tambourine under your bed. And then the one in your sock drawer. I had my suspicions, but that just confirmed it all for me. So, Kitti, how do you explain that? How do you explain faint scent of lizard blizzard on you when I come home every night? How do you explain your newfound obsessed with Bad Religion and robots?
And most of all, how do you expect me to stay true to you when you’re busy messing around with the tambourine boy, while I’m out working hard to keep food on the table? huh? HUH?
Dreaming of oldscratch was merely an escape from the hell that is my life.
<weeps>
[/dramatic confrontation]
The only reason you liked me in the first place was because I had caramel apple dip. :rolleyes:
And it isn’t my fault! <points to some random person>
- But I look mid to late 20’s and act 16.
YES, I CAN! My Jen (that’s not exactly true now since she left, but you get the point) is also a skanky ho. More ho, skank, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho, skank, ho, though. Tounge thing instead of nose thing. I hope it gets caught behind the little hangy down thingy at the back of her throat and that she chokes on it. DIE, HO, DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!
Here’s a poem I wrote while in the hospital with oldscratch. Note, writing something like this and showing it to your psychiatrist will get you a few extra days in the hospital. It was a ‘directed poem’. The first part of each line were started for us and we had to finish it. I’ve put my parts in italics:
What I want most in my life is happiness
and also a family.
I can get through this
because I am strong enough.
Behind me is my bitchy wife.
And ahead is someone nice.
I hope my wife gets a disease
and dies painfully.
Just imagine going to her funeral.
Mental health professionals have NO sense of humor. Hey, I liked it.