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This is a question Losing it

Bluehamster tells us: "This morning I found myself filling my mug not a teabag, but with Shreddies." Tell us of the times when you've convinced yourself that you're losing your marbles.

(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 12:59)
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This question is now closed.

I really did lose it
...a full-on mental breakdown, about 15 years ago. But don't worry, this isn't going to be a wallow in self-pity, nor an inspirational tale of overcoming trauma. Just a description of one of the more entertaining symptoms...

You see, I started to receive messages, on TV, radio, newspapers, advertising billboards, the sides of buses, anywhere. Personal messages, specifically aimed at me, explicitly connected to what was going on in my head.

Thankfully, I remained aware enough to understand that this wasn't real. But the thing is, that's an intellectual knowledge, not an emotional one; however much I knew it, I couldn't stop them happening, or shake the feeling - the searing, white-hot mania-fueled belief - that they were real.

I have to say it's the oddest sensation, feeling that the universe is talking directly to you. Kind of scary, but also kind of comforting - after all, you must be pretty important if these powerful forces are focused on you!

It was also strange enough to tip me off that something was seriously wrong, and would need to be addressed. This wasn't just Post-Modern angst, or self-indulgent whining; this was time to call for help.

In the long run, the breakdown was the best thing that ever happened to me; I recommend them to anyone.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:45, 16 replies)
This happened yesterday in fact
It’s not often that anything amusing happens on a Southeastern train, unless you have a penchant for spending £400 a month in exchange for broken toilets, frequent delays and overcrowding.

Last night however, my journey was brightened considerably by the sight of a merry gentleman attempting to disembark from the train. When I say “merry”, what I actually mean is “mindlessly pissed to the point of losing control of one’s bladder and bowels”.

From the relative comfort (sic) of my seat, I watched the merry gent stagger off the train, before he stopped on the platform to squint awkwardly, with one eye closed at the information screen in front of him. At the third attempt, he managed to roll his sleeve to the point where he could look at his watch, but it was painfully obvious that he was unable to make sense of what it was telling him.

With that, he shambled towards the train parked at the opposite platform and leaned heavily against the side and tried pressing the button to release the doors, completely oblivious to the scrolling LED sign six inches in front of his face that read “Not In Service”.

After meeting with no success, he turned around once and studied the information screen again before he decided to get back on our train, which at this point was ready to depart the station so all the sliding doors had just locked.

Just as my train pulled out of the station, I saw him turn around in defeat and unzip his fly before he pissed all over the side of the platform’s waiting room.

It was going to be a bad night for him.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:44, Reply)
A few years ago I went to Vienna for a long weekend. I had a ticket for the opera and Vienna is a smart place so I needed to take some smart shoes. I have two identical pairs of decent black shoes and decided to take just one pair.

(I think you can see where this is going.)

Move forward to the evening of the opera. Freshly showered, suit on, tie on, I open my suitcase to get shoes only to remove two left ones.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:43, 5 replies)
I was once woken by my bladder
in the middle of night as it demanded emptying. I wandered off into the bathroom, light on, shut the door, and started brushing my teeth. About 30 seconds in I thought "I really need a pee" before realising that was the reason I went in there in the first place.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:39, 1 reply)
Not so long back
I was just leaving the house when I realised I had forgotten my phone. I checked my pockets, looked on my computer desk where I nearly always leave it, beside the bed where I put it on charge overnight, on the hi-fi in the living room where I leave it if I'm in there. It was nowhere. I then went to check in the car to see if I had left it in there when I went out earlier. I couldn't find it at all and I conceded to Mrs SLVA that I couldn't find my phone. She wasn't actually with me, she had just finished work and I was on the way to pick her up and I was actually ON MY FUCKING PHONE telling her that I couldn't find it.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:33, 1 reply)
Glasses idiot
I recently spent 15 minutes looking for my glasses before finding them on my face. I'm a dumbass.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:29, Reply)
feeling my inner jakey
I'm up quite early every weekday morning to go to work. I never seem to manage a early night so to start off with I'm always operating on minimum brain functions. 1st thing to do is make a cuppa but when I go to the fridge somtimes I grab a bottle of wine or cider instead of the milk. I have done it quite a few times.

I worry that it's my inner jakey wanting a drink at 0545 rather than the act of half asleep twat shuffling about the kitchen like a Romero style zombie.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:28, Reply)
Attempted murder/football training.
**wavy lines**

When I was 11, I was living in my brother's shadow. He was three years older, was brilliant at football, extremely popular, cool, funny... basically, all the things that I wasn't. In order to match our kid and start down the road of awesomeness, I joined the under 11's of our local football team.

This had a couple of downsides. One, I was shit at football. Years of being used as a moving target for my sadistic brother's shooting practise in our garden had dampened my enthusiasm for the game. Two, I was a geek and totally uncool. I liked Games Workshop and Thundercats and not much else. Three, I was a fat, unfit little bugger who had a love affair with chips. As a result of these handicaps, I was the the last one picked for teams, I was pretty much friendless in the squad and I was a natural butt for jokes/tricks. You know the sort thing, being pushed over when someone is on hands and knees behind your legs, kit getting hidden, that kind of thing. On the whole, I just laughed along with it as I was (am) a chilled out, jovial sort of chap.

One lad however made my life a living hell. Ash was a cock. A nasty, spiteful little twat. Now this lad was smaller that everyone in the squad (including me), yet he had the biggest mouth on him and felt the need to insult and wind up anyone he could in order to make his feel better/bigger. Needless to say, he focused his entire attention on me and sent an unending torrent of abuse my way for an entire season. I was miserable and dreaded football training.

One day though, he went too far...

We were playing bibs vs skins five-a-side and Ash and I were alone playing at the back (for I was a defender). It was late afternoon at about 7 and it was just getting dark at the playing fields, and most of the play was taking place at the other end of the pitch. Obviously bored (and totally unprovoked), he walks over to me, stamps down hard on my foot in his boots and whispers 'your Mum is a c*nt and wishes that you had never been born'. I didn't take kindly to this. A year of abuse and torture from this little shit finally broke my resolve to just 'laugh it off'. The red mist descended...

Displaying strength I didn't know I had, I picked him up bodily from the floor by the throat and locked my fingers around his neck, arms outstretched. He kicked me in the balls. Didn't feel it. He scratched my face. Didn't feel it. He started to go blue. I laughed. I remember feeling totally calm and not at all concerned that I was throttling a fellow team mate. Now I am not an evil bastard, but every ounce of me wanted this little fucker dead...

And then the 20 stone man mountain that was the manager arrived (lets call him Tom) and he forced my hands apart preventing me from killing my foe, and it was then that I totally LOST IT (vague link to the QOTW but I couldn't give a rats arse!) I started windmilling in all directions, hands and feet flying in a final effort to smite my enemy, and Tom had to physically sit on me to prevent me from going after Ash and finishing the job.

Needless to say, I wasn't invited back to play footie which suited me just fine, but Ash was a lot nicer to me at school thereafter. I'm still uncool even now, but this episode taught me that I liked to fight and started me in my beloved hobby of mixed martial arts so in a way, thanks Ash. I'm kinda sorry that I tried to kill you...

Sorry for the lack of funnies etc.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:26, 20 replies)

Came back after a weekend visiting the folks and the flat was ROASTING HOT.

I'd left the oven on. For the entire weekend.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:25, 3 replies)
My friend tells the story of his son returning from school one day with only one shoe.
"For gods' sake, Paul, you don't just lose one shoe ... " he berates him, "You tie them together, and either you lose both or you don't lose them at all. For gods' sake, Paul ... " rar rar rar.

They were scheduled to go to the cinema that evening, and on leaving afterwards, my friend (who is bald) found he lost his hat.

"For gods' sake, Dad, you don't just lose your hat ... "

He said as a non-parent I will never quite understand the feeling of equal pride and embarassment kids can give you.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:04, 3 replies)
Woke up bleary eyed, glanced at alarm clock. 8:40. SHIT!
Due at work by 9. Get dressed, munch on a chewie bar as I drag my bike down 5 flights of stairs. Ride along 2 miles of canal towpath at breakneck speed and arrive at work at a few minutes after 9. Result!

Let myself in and sit at my desk relieved that my boss wasn't around to see me arriving, albeit only, minutes late.

Power up computer, make a cup of coffee. Wonder why noone else has arrived yet. Drink coffee, login to computer which promptly informs me that it's Saturday.

Curse my stupid alarm clock, get on bike, ride home, and go back to bed.

(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 14:01, 6 replies)
In just one term my son has misplaced the following:
one hat, one flash drive, his house key, a padlock, several school books, a dozen or so pens, two pairs of scissors, one ruler, one protractor, one watch, one mobile phone (second hand for what I hope are already obvious reasons), one school bag and one pair of school shoes (that he was wearing to school at the time).

Very early onset Alzheimers or just a teenager, who can tell?
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:58, 9 replies)
Teabags and Shreddies
The other morning I found myself filling my mug with...oh wait who cares?
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:54, 1 reply)
Front door
I have lost count of the number of times I have found myself trying to open the front door of the office with my Oyster card instead of the key.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:51, 3 replies)
Spent ten minutes looking for the remote..
....and it was in my fucking hand! Wish I could say that's only happened once or twice
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:50, Reply)
Yesterday, in fact
Got home from work. Put the kettle on to make a brew. Went to get the milk out of the fridge and found the Weetabix. Looking in the cupboard I keep breakfast cereal in - found the milk. Went the shop and got more milk.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:42, 1 reply)
So I was 18.
... and I'd just started seeing a girl, who, prior to meeting me, had tried to commit suicide with a bottle of vodka and a bottle of paracetamol. As a result, her liver was absolutely mashed. I only found this out once I'd invited her out for a drink, and she'd asked for an orange juice, which obviously wasn't going to get her drunk.

"It means that after one half of lager, I'll be as pissed as you are after five pints" she told me. Ah, I thought - while entertaining enough as an idea, what of the outside world, I wondered aloud, which is akin to having two more pints?

"It's OK" quoth she, "I sober up in the fresh air".

Clearly this girl was from outer space.

No matter, we spent the evening inside, and it was here that we began to talk in earnest, about the important matter of sex. I told her I was a virgin.

"No you're not" she rebutted.

"I am" I told her.

"You're not" she instructed me.

"I am, I swear" I protested.

She changed the subject, and on we continued, and then at the end of the evening, she had a half of lager, and sure enough, she was as pissed as a fart. We decided to leave, and sure enough, within another ten minutes she was completely sober.

Dancing ahead of me down the lane in the moonlight, she twirled in her skirt and a beam illuminated one blue eye, "What was that crap about you being a virgin?" she called.

"I swear to god I am" I said, joining her, "Seriously I am".

From innocent girl to powerful cougar, the transition was incredible as we got to her room.

There was - quite honestly - someone playing jazz saxophone below the window on that night I became a man.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:39, 3 replies)
Not me but two friends from Oz.
arrived in Heathrow on 5 February 1988. They were suprised to see an aiport employee wearing a large plastic red clowns nose pushing a line of luggage trolleys around the arrivals hall. Must be a care in the community type they thought. They got on the tube and headed down the Picadilly line into London on their way to their hotel.

A few stops down and a woman and a man got on both wearing red noses -must be on their way to a clown convention they thought.

At each stop more and more people got on all wearing the same false red noses. They both became convinced that they were being set up in some kind of candid camera type TV show, and were expecting Jeremy Fucking Beadle to get on next wearing a hat, false beard and red nose before pointing out the hidden cameras, but no, more and more people wearing red noses got on at each stop until the tube was practically full of them and strangely no one seemed to bat an eyelid, just the odd nod and wink that was all.

When they got off at Piccadiliy circus and walked out into the street they were surrounded by hundreds of people with red noses on. That's when they became convinced that they had completely losts their minds.

They put it down to jet lag and slept for the next 18 hours.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:33, 1 reply)
Oh well,
I suppose my suggestion fits in here quite well. A month ago was a fierce stressful time for me. I was going for a new new position in the job. One of the kids in work was off the wall. I was working with an incredibly inept co-worker for several months. My manager forgot to pay me and I was going on holidays with wife and two young boys (6mths and 3 and a half).

Well anyway my brain ended up having a meltdown and at half two the morning before our holiday I decided that I was having a stroke. This involved a serious amount of panicking on my behalf. Waking my brother and having him take me to the emergency doctor and then on to the hospital, who, eight hours later, told me to stop being silly and go home.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:32, 3 replies)
Sleep deprivation
I remember when our first child was born sitting on the edge of the bed, cradling my arms and gently rocking.

"What are you doing?" asked Mrs M.

"Shh! I'm rocking him to sleep."

"But, I've just put him back in his cot!"

"Then what am I...Oh."
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:28, 5 replies)
Monday Morning
at work, picked up my dirty cup off my desk from friday then proceeded into the kitchen, put my lunch in the washing up bowl and the cup in the fridge.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:27, Reply)
Totally losing it
Drove off to work this morning. Couldn't remember if I'd locked the Land Rover (my weekend car). Shit. Some little scrote will be in there trying to prise the crappy Land Rover own-brand stereo out of the plastic dash.
Thing was, I could definitely remember opening the Land Rover door that morning but not locking it after me.
I turned round, drove home, pulled up in front of my house, saw my other car (Honda Accord type thing) neatly parked there, realised I was IN the Land Rover.
The million decibel engine and clouds of noxious exhaust should have been a clue.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:25, 3 replies)
The sound ...
... of marbles rolling out of my ears and hitting the floor keeps me awake at night.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:23, Reply)
Just typed up a story for last week's QOTW.

Here it is:

Family trip to Cornwall

It must have been 91/92.

My parents and I, my aunt and cousin and my two grandparents set off on convoy down to the land of tin.

We were in three groups of cars, my parents at the front, grandfolk in the middle and the rest of us taking up the rear (snarf).

About half way down the M5, my grandparent’s car started to swerve a little every now and then. This was long before mobiles (accessible one’s anyway), so we couldn’t check to see if things were ok.

The swerving got gradually worse, until my granddad managed to take the car across three lanes of traffic, narrowly missing a 4X4 towing a caravan.

Frantic hand signals and honking ensued, until we managed to pull my grandparents over.

It turns out the silly old bugger was falling asleep at the wheel. But my nan was also in the land of nod.

We didn’t let them drive the rest of the journey.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:06, Reply)
I forgot my name at the registry office. It took a few minutes to remember it.
But then I also forgot what we had agreed to name our daughter when I went to register the birth.
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:06, 1 reply)
*something about The Game*

(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:06, 2 replies)
Is it a theme for the past 24 hours
To post new challenges with a word missing the subtitle? Are the b3ta admins doing a meta-qotw-answer?
(, Thu 21 Jul 2011, 13:05, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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