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Originally Posted by Danzig
hey, when i bashed my thumb the other day, i swear i said oh fadge....
no, maybe i said damn.
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How will this fadge? My master loves her dearly,
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him,
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me.
What will become of this? As I am man,
My state is desperate for my master's love.
As I am woman, now, alas the day,
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breathe!
Twelfth Night, Act II, scene ii
You know, I think I'm going to bring back "fadge." As in, "Though I hope Street Sense wins the Preakness, with both Hard Spun and Curlin in the mix, I really don't know how the race will fadge."