Solution.

127. The music. Is. SO. LOUD. Killed. All. My. Brain. Cells.

Apparently, the highschool next to my workplace has an end-of-the-year celebration today. When I arrived at work, techno was at full blast, beautifully harmonized with loud cheering from all the overexcited teenagers. By the time I settled down at my desk, someone must have hijacked the microphone to perform an enthusiastic rendition of Guantanamera, prompting a colleague, from the other side of my building, to message me on Skype, "Oh God they can't sing. It's just an awful set of sounds." In fact, I have never bonded with so many colleagues in one day, the way that people bond with each other at time of tragedy. (Yes, bad music at full blast is a tragedy. So are loud and overexcited teenagers.)

We are in the seminar room, where the Editor-in-Chief of an important journal is about to give a talk. After introducing the speaker, the chairman sat down, fidgeted in his seat for a minute or two, before briefly interrupting the EIC. "I am sorry, for all these noises. There is not much we can do about it," he says, and I believe he speaks for all of us when he continues with, "except, perhaps we can start shooting them."

128. Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh. Blogger. Stuffed. Up. Lost. Entries. No backup. What. Kind. Of. Idiot. Am. I. For. Not. Backing. Up. My. Writing.

To be fair to them, the only two entries I've lost are: #122 = Jake and his offer to walk with me to the toilet at work, and #123 = The oversized 3D glasses, neither of which was terribly important (not that any other moment was), but the toilet entry was so romantically written!

129. Another proof for trams being evil.

Intersection of Chaussée de Wavre and Boulevard Général Jacques.