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Current Blogs: STINKFILLERS wasn't like they seemed to be making a conscious effort to follow us; they just seemed to appear by supernatural means wherever we were and then stick to us like glue, sucking the enjoyment out of everything we tried to do and feeding off our good nature. It had come as a blessed relief then, when two blissful days ago, Dave had contracted a dose of food poisoning and had been unable to move more than a couple of feet from his bathroom. Even that came with a price though, after installing himself and his wife on our table and ordering beers (just for themselves) from the waitress (he didn't really say 'shaken, not stirred' did he?), he was now recounting his illness in graphic detail to us (and most of the other patrons of the bar, the man had no volume control). I switched to autopilot and nodded and smiled in the right places as he told us for the third time how he had been afraid to cough and repeated something about him being able to crap through the eye of a needle. Sandra just sat sipping her Babycham and lemonade, moronically repeating the last word of all his sentences.
