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.