Bar Fight! *throws beer mug*

I read Joel's mind (which is easy this time) and smack him in the face with a rubber hose. Joel almost feels like crying when Jon Anderson appears. This time he does realize it, and they touch each other soft and gentle.

I read it. 

I tell Joel that comments like "post '89 music suck " and "nope, can't say I care for this band" are the most useless and frustrating things I've read on this site.

But I can think that he disgusts Porcupine Tree, Blackfield, No-Man, MOTW and more of the bands in your Last.fm signature!

Joel and I go outside and create a trap with some bait in the form of a post '89 CD, Walter must come here to bash it. We wait a couple of meters away from it behind a little wall, with loaded shotguns, grenades, chainsaws, porcupines, knives and other dangerous things.

Walter runs as fast as he can, but the porcupine's spikes... or groin... have blinded him. He falls in to the canal where the Giant Hogweeds devour him. Joel manages to get off his back just before Walter falls. We feel relieved and all frustration in the world is gone.

"What's the matter, wombat!?" I say to him, but he doesn't seem to listen.

I would never even touch a gun. 

^ Unless it's a very short article, I don't think I can see it. 

Pekka wrote: Ah the fun of waking up to the slow realization that you've just poked your foot at something wet, turn the light on and see a huge dog vomit at the foot of the bed. Three a.m. Then spend 40 minutes cleaning it up and changing the sheets and just when you go back to bed she throws up again. Luckily to the floor this time. It takes an eternity to fall asleep again and then at eight she does it for the third time. What a night.