Infamy lives on...

I see from my handy-dandy this-day-in-history window thoughtfully provided by my ISP, that today is the anniversary of Krakatoa's big bang. That makes sense to me, as today is also the birthday of one of my ex-gentleman friend's. Now, wouldn't it be nice if there was a drug that could just ply the highways of the hippocampus, where all those memories are tucked away, and selectively cherry-pick away at all that unneccessary data just laying around, taking up space? Like I need this on my mind, all day long. And he isn't the only one taking up room with superfluous information; there are a raft of dates lacking in current significance that I would dearly love to pitch in the circular file. I remember the birthdates of every single man I dated more than twice. Well, except the next to last one, Mr. What-the-Hell-Was-I-Thinking, aka The BIG Mistake. I know it was in May sometime, but the date has evaporated, which you think would be good, except that I keep wondering all month if that is the day. I know, I'm seriously demented here. I am learning in Abnormal Psych that much of my behavior is questionably borderline maladaptive. I'm actually kind of proud like that. There's a lot to be said for doing one's own thing.