2002-12-12

I didn’t think that “Memory” from “Cats” could really get any more annoying as a song. I thought it had pretty much attained the summit of shittiness, the paragon of pap. Until, that is, I was serenaded this morning by the cell-phone-ringer version of it wafting melodiously into my personal airspace from the next cubicle, which is apparently inhabited by someone who doesn’t possess the requisite equipment to rub two brain cells together and figure out how to turn her cell phone OFF during working hours.

Yes, I KNOW I’ve bitched about cell phone ringer tunes before. But come ON! “Memory”? I wish I could erase that song from mine. That song alone has reserved Andrew Lloyd Webber a special place in Hell, with his very own demon assigned the sole task of probing his arse with a tuning fork for all eternity.