There are thousands and thousands of people who pass through one's life. Some of these get forgotten; their names, features, actions lost in the depths of memory. But some, on the surface incredibly insignificant, leave a mark that cannot be wiped clean.

College, sophomore year. A space opens up in our six-man suite. In moves Matt.

We don't remember Matt's last name, or where he came from, or what he majored in. We do remember what he looked like: a paler version of Craig Kilborn (yes, that's humanely possible).

And we do remember what Matt loved most in life. Counting Crows, specifically their song "Mr. Jones".

It could have been morning, day, evening, or night, it didn't matter. "Mr. Jones" was being blasted in Matt's room, and he was singing along, "Sha la la la la la..." And then the song would stop, only to loop again, with Matt serenading, "Mr. Jones and me..." It was pure torture.

And here's the thing: we actually LIKED the song. We actually LIKED Crows front man Adam Duritz, who, yes, is Jewish. But for us, it will forever be linked to that Matt, so irrelevant, yet so annoying.

Well, less annoying than the other suite-mate who sang "Girls Just Want to Have Fun". Now what was his name?...