b3ta.com qotw
You are not logged in. Login or Signup
Home » Question of the Week » Losing it » Page 6 | Search
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)
Pages: Latest, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, ... 1

This question is now closed.

I parked my car
in the old multi-storey car park in Burnley whilst I nipped into the market for something. I had a red Peugeot 405 and I always drove into parking spaces front first, so imagine my shock and horror when I returned to find that some bastard had turned my car around and the front was pointing outwards.
It was only after fucking about trying to unlock it that I thought of checking the number plate. Turns out I'd actually parked MY car in the corresponding space a floor above.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 15:10, 3 replies)
happens to us all eventually
searched for my glasses, despite the fact i'm already wearing them? check.
searched for my purse and eventually found it in the freezer? check.
got in the shower still wearing my underwear? check.
had a conversation with something i'm cooking? check.
cut the leafy green bottom off a cauliflower and put the leaves on my head as a hat? check.
had a hissy fit because my keys wouldn't open the door of the flat i'd moved out of 3 months before? check.
tried to open the door with an electricity meter key? check.
i don't know if i'm genuinely losing it, but all these things do is amuse me. if i'm going mad, i don't think it's going to bother me too much, really.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 15:08, 2 replies)
Possibly OCD...
Probably only makes sense to those familiar with the a14 cambridge corridor, but...

Once left home (in huntingdon)and headed to cambridge to go to work in the usual fun rush hour traffic. Got on the a14, and the dreadful feeling of 'have I locked the door?' struck me. Sat stationary. Feelings of dread growing. Eventually got to cambridge services and turned round. Rushed home (as quickly as the trafiic would allow). Got home. Door was locked. I was 4 hours late for work.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 14:33, 3 replies)
Several times this week
I've tried to put a baking tray into the freezer to cook. It's not even close to the oven.

Maybe part of me thinks the deep cold will crisp things up with its inverse heat.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 14:30, Reply)
Last night
I found myself talking to the old man in the grandfather clock.
He showed me a scene of how he bartered with death to earn his citizenship with the inanimate.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 13:16, Reply)
The first of many occasions
where it turned out to be a bad idea to try and use a gadget of some sort and pee simultaneously. This occasion is still special because I have not the ability to explain why I thought this would work...

Living in halls at Uni, I got up one morning and staggered to the loo for morning toilet time. While standing there I realised the clocks had gone back and decided to multi-task and change my watch accordingly. Being one of the strange minority that wear their watch on their right wrist, this involved removing the watch to have reasonable access the twiddly-knob-thingy on the side (you can see where this is going).


I'm now looking down at my beloved time-piece submerged in my own piss water and, as I'm still going at this point, have to stare forlornly at it until I finish.

Obviously I wasn't going to abandon my watch but I wasn't exactly in a rush to stick my hand down there to retrieve it. At this point inspiration struck. If I put the bog brush down there to hold my watch still then flush the toilet it'll remove the manky water AND clean my watch at the same time...




I don't know what was stupider, the fact that I thought this would work or the fact that I was genuinely surprised when the toilet swallowed my watch.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 12:44, Reply)
I don't know how other people feel about Ice Cream Vans
But I always feel like I'm getting conned when they say

"Strawberry sauce"

And no matter how enthusiastic the nod, you get a dribble.

Well one day, in sunny London, I noticed that the ice cream man had left the strawberry sauce near the edge so I nabbed it and topped up my Mr. Whippy feeling somewhat pleased with myself.

A quick taste turns to revulsion and the ice cream was lashed to the floor. Bloody ice cream ruined by ketchup.

I used to look back at this story and think, you lost it there love, how did you not notice it was ketchup?

But now I think, what sort of ice cream vans sells hotdogs?

And why didn't my mum say something?

I can't remember why I typed this now. Sorry
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 11:08, Reply)
I moved house from one side of our (rather large) town to the other, about 14 months ago. I still turn at the same damn roundabout (as though I'm heading to the old house) 6 times out of 10, and then realise after about 300 yards that I'm heading to the old house.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 7:39, 3 replies)
New flat
I've just moved into a new flat a few months back.I tend to walk around in a day dream most of the time but i'm sure future guests will understand a few misshaps.
For example;
The dents in the wall where I've gotten out of bed the wrong way only to smack my knees and face into the said wall.
The slightly damp patch in the hallway from where I've turned off a plug and the freezer defrosted leaving a very damp and now discoulored hall way carpet.
The slight smell of piss in the storage cupboard after a late night beer session where i thought it would be a good idea to not use the lights and feel my way into the bathroom.
Finally i hope they will understand the blood on the front door when it swung back and it hit me in the face, at the time i remember thinking "that doors moving very fast".
I'm thinking it would be a good idea to start wear armor around the place.
(, Sat 23 Jul 2011, 4:18, Reply)
For some reason I wanted to prove the exhaust pipe was hot
So I grabbed it, got burnt and had my hand covered in a massive blister :-(
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 23:13, 6 replies)
I got a glass of milk
As I sat there chewing it, I realized it was off.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 23:00, 1 reply)
Alcohol induced madness
...but not the type you're thinking of. When at uni, normally before the start of a term, drinking heavily every night is mandatory in my house (or at least it was until I got a girlfriend, who for some reason often wants to indulge in the vulgar act of copulation). After a few days the strain starts to tell on us: spots, bags under the eyes, lethargy, startling lightness of the wallet, and so on. Cue 3 days off, rinse and repeat.

I get an additional side effect: it makes me loopy. I start forgetting things, my senses become dulled, I can't write properly, my mood is all over the place, and I start mistaking strangers for people I know in the street just because at a glance they look similar.

Last year, after a mammoth blow out to commemorate the start of the hard work period*, I was feeling particularly out of sorts. The hangover had cleared up some time the previous evening, and my stomach was finally sufficiently settled for me to acquiesce to its demands for food. It was time, I felt, for pie & chips with peas.

Fill saucepan with water, stick on ring set to a low heat to get it to the boil before time, put pie in oven alongside chips. Nip off for a quick jimmy riddle.

Come back 5 minutes later (got distracted by a moth) to discover the unmistakable smell of cooking gas.

I went over my actions in my head, and had absolutely no recollection of ever even attempting to light the rings. I just put everything in place and wandered off.

And the pie was still in its box. In the oven.

It was at this point that I phoned Dominos.

Length? About 2 1/2 days, just to make sure.

*don't take the piss; anyone who says students are a bunch of dossers is a miserable, jealous cunt.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 22:45, 2 replies)
Doing some soldering today
I saw there was a bit of copper wire stuck to the tip of the (switched on) soldering iron. I was just about to pick it off with my fingers when I thought "Waaaaaaait a minute here... why do my fingers feel hot when they're near this thing?"
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 22:33, 3 replies)
funneh time!
as you probably dont know, i at my school am a 'student technician' for my class. people shout "ROSS ITS BROKEN" and i go over and turn capslock off.
but i disgress. i was helping laminate teachers name cards when i noticed one for a teacher in the room. these cards put the name and then the department. id have to give it to him some time so this is the story of how i gave a card to lou singh, I.T.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 20:23, 4 replies)
Talking to myself
I was just walking home. It is late. Really late. When I'm walking home late I let my mind wander a bit. I was actually thinking of this site and that started me thinking about all the chav jokes, and from there onto all of the Chavs in the uk I left behind when I left England eight years ago, so thusly onto the sound of the chav voice. I realized I could not for the life of me remember the accent. I had a go. By the time I was nearing the garden outside my apartment, I was getting pretty good at it. I rather had it down nice and tight when I was walking past the fountain and was saying things like cn y gizza snout chap, and wi'fff y luukin at cuant. I was proud. Anyway I froze mid stride while passing a figure, with a little bright red dot in the middle and a smoky sort of smell. It was a bloke, a chap right there having a smoke. I didn't know what to do. Can I have a bit of that mate? Was all I could think to say. I must have sounded like a lunatic; I'd even started doing some of the hand gesture things they do. I eventually managed while puffing away to explain that I was part of an amature production and was practicing regional diction for a part I was playing. I'm not sure if that made things sound better. In any case he turned out to be a fairly laid back guy from Mauritius and a member of a band I am familiar with. When I got home I wanted to write it up here (since RM and bt3a are partly responsible). Nice that this qotw had been specially laid out for me!
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 20:13, Reply)
Another one!
diluting juice that said in BIG FUCK OFF LETTERS diluted. the bad thing is that i was voted most likely to suceed in the school yearbook just yesterday :( what am i gonna become...
oh and searching for phone charger when my phone was plugged into it. done that many times...
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 19:56, Reply)

(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 19:08, 10 replies)
There've been many
I recounted this story to some friends in the early stages of a Thursday night piss-up last night, and they considered it a winner.

Our favourite bar to drink at is called Roots Time, a small basement bar that plays a good selection of '60s and '70s reggae and ska. It's near Hongik University, an arts university and the center of everything ever resembling countercultural activity in all of Korea. This bar itself is owned by a couple, the husband being Japanese and the wife being Korean. It's hilarious seeing white English teacher customers come in and labour over Korean with the bartender, not realising that he's not much better at it than them. Even if I'm sitting at the bar bullshitting with him, nobody ever seems to get it.

So, one night in 2010 I drank til closing, which in Korea is whenever business is running dry, or the subways open at 5:30am, or the owners want to go home.

On my way home, I decided to stop by Burger King, one of the few 24-hour establishments, for some late-night food. I went in, and as usual my order took about five minutes. Keep in mind, I was belligerently drunk. Grabbing the take-out bag, I went out to hop on my scooter and take the 5-minute ride home.

One problem: my scooter wasn't here. It flashed through my head briefly that I couldn't really expect protection from crime myself, having been about to commit the crime of drunk-driving. On the other hand, I was poor, and vengeful.

I went to the parking garage across the street, where a security guard was on duty and there might be CCTV. The guard was unhappy to have me here, but I was furious. In my poor Korean I asked if there were video cameras, then I asked to use a land line to call the police. The police were easily able to give me an English translator, and I explained my situation and my location. They told me to wait there for a police car.

I went out and sat on the curb. While waiting, I figured I'd eat the Burger King meal. Partway through, the couple who own Roots Time passed me on the way home, and I explained my situation. After they were gone, I looked both ways up the street, looking for the police who would come to hopefully return my stolen property. I've had scooters stolen before, three times, and two of those three times the scooter was ditched nearby.

Then I got to thinking: I didn't take my scooter there that day. Reassured in that fact, and slightly embarrassed, I walked home. Sure enough, when I woke up next afternoon, there was my scooter, right in the parking garage.

To give you that authentic feeling of having been there, here's the exact location on Daum Street View.
The Burger King's on the right, and the parking garage is part of the highrise a little up ahead on the left. If you scroll 90 degrees to the left, you'll see the curb I polished off the Bacon Double Cheeseburger Meal.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 18:35, Reply)
I used to play 5-a-side football every week
when I was living in London. One Tuesday evening I went to get in the car to drive to footie only to find my car was gone. I did the logical thing and rang the police to report it stolen. Completely p*ssed off at this turn of events I went back inside and rang a few friends to share my bad news. The first two friends garnered me with the sympathy deserving of a man who's car has been stolen. The third friend answered the phone with 'Hey fella, I was just going to ring you. Your car is still parked near mine. I walked past it on the way home a few minutes ago and it's got two parking tickets on it.'

It was then I remembered that the Friday before, I'd decided against getting a tube to the pub we were all meeting at that Friday evening and instead had just driven and parked near.

I phoned the police again to report my car unstolen.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 17:21, 1 reply)
I swear, I wasn't losing it, but I was treated like I was.
My niece greeted me with a big hug and then shoved a flexy rubber Spider-Man (take that, Lee Barnett!) into my hand with the question 'Where does he come from?'. And as I gazed fondly at my childhood toy, I started to tell her, in my kindly uncle voice. 'Well, he comes from my favourite place in the whole world, a big, big city a long way away in America called New York. And he helps people. He can climb walls', (and I pushed him against the wall and made climby motions upwards(, 'and he can fire spiders webs from his wrists', (and I bent my wrist backwards and made 'psssh' type noises), 'and he can swing between buildings' (and I mimed him swing across the sky) 'and, best of all, he will always keep you safe at night'.

And I passed my Spider-Man back to her, satisfied that I was a good uncle and that she would love me very much.

She looked at me. She looked at the toy. She looked back at me. And impatiently said...

...'NO! Where does he come from, you or Daddy?'
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 17:15, Reply)
I think QOTW deserves a round of applause for not calling this week's question "Loosing it."

(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 17:02, 7 replies)
I'm fairly sure
I never had it.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 17:01, 5 replies)
Losing it, 'flu style.
Bear with me, it's long and a bit pointless, but entirely relevent, I promise.

The backstory : Sometime last November, I had the house to myself as my parents and brother had gone away for a long weekend. It was great - I'd been in a new job for a couple of months, which meant I had money, which inevitably meant I had several friends round on the Friday for a night of drinking and massive drugs! (Ok, maybe not that massive...). Seeing as I live in the back end of nowhere and it's impossible to get a taxi or bus from there at anything past ten, a couple of them crashed on the sofa.

Now, I'd had a bit of a cold that week, which meant I wasn't feeling too brilliant but a dose of fall-down juice soon made that better. The next morning, I woke up faced with the usual bombsite-aftermath/still-sleeping mates/hangover. I get the house back sometime around 12, at which point I decide to have a little lie down.

Three hours later, I've gone from feeling a bit hungover to being convinced that I'm physically unable to stand up, move my arms or do anything other than lie on the sofa and stare at the ceiling. During this time, I'd gone to sleep and woken up about 5 times and am now starting to panic, having dismissed the idea that it was just a hangover/combination of too much booze and a cold. The thought of phoning my boyfriend/parents/nan/anyone had crossed my mind, but my phone was miles away. And I couldn't move to get it. Shit.

I think I lay there panicking for about half an hour before my brain kicked in and went "just... stand up." I think I managed to have a shower and walk the dog, by which point I'd decided I would be ok. Then I threw up. And it went downhill from there.

I somehow managed to sort the house out, but most of the following week is a blur. I had fever-dreams while I was awake, would get somewhere and not remember leaving the house, make food, forget I'd eaten it and wonder why I kept being sick (logically, I reasoned, I can't be sick if I hadn't eaten), and various other small things that had me convinced I was going insane. By then, of course, I'd realised I had the flu, but the small part of my brain that remained rational was drowned out by the fever and the paranoid belief that I was going to cough myself to death. That lasted about a week - the time off work was *not* worth it.

Apologies for lack of funnies, but at least its (mostly) on topic.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:51, Reply)
Eurotunnel, Folkestone
I arrived at the Folkestone tunnel port with just enough time to go and get a large coffee and some sandwiches before my train was due. My car has a cup holder, which makes it nice and easy to take a drink with me to have during the 35 minute crossing. So off I went to buy said food and beverage, then returned to the car to perform the following simple actions:

Unlock car (by remote)
Put coffee on roof of car to free a hand to open car door
Open car door
Get into car
Put sandwiches on passenger seat
Shut car door
Start car
Start to drive off

Al least it provided entertainment for the nice family in the car parked next to me, and since then I don't carry hot liquids in my door-opening hand.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:51, Reply)
I meant to ask my wife to pass me the ketchup
But somehow I ended up saying "you fucking bitch you've ruined my life".
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:47, 13 replies)
Stuff of my Media Centre...
Has to be JUST RIGHT. In the correct file structure, files names correct, metadata right, covers correct, Media Browser has to be showing them correctly. If I like 1 episode of a show, I get the whole series. Then, I think "but it's incomplete, I must download the EVERY episode" - so I have them all, incase I need to watch them all. Or show off when my brother in law comes around.

I'll wake up in the night if I've left something not tagged properly, for example, Ben 10 Alien Force Season 3, there's only MEANT TO BE 20 EPISODES yet I have 21!!! I'm going to have to watch them all, get the synposis and match them up. It sits there, untagged, laughing at me.


This could be an OCD/Nerd story - but the wife says I've "fucking lost it" but she doesn't understand... it takes me AGES to maintain that.. IT MUST BE RIGHT.

I've not watched 90% of the stuff on there, if i have some sort of major surgery I'll catch up on everything.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:43, 7 replies)
Inadvertent carjack
On a cold, dark rainy evening I nipped into the local Tescos for a bottle of wine to numb the pain of another evening of Eastenders and Corrie. I was knackered after a long day at work, and wandered back to the car (parked on the road outside) in my usual slight daze - hurrying a little thanks to the increasingly heavy drizzle but otherwise in a world of my own.

Approaching the car, I hit the key fob for the central locking, and wandered round to the driver's side door, opened it (while checking my receipt to make sur I had indeed gotten my two bottles of wine for a tenner) and slipped into the driving seat.

At which point I realised that MY car seat doesn't have a cover on it. And my car does not have a pine tree air freshener. And my car is not a VW. And my car does not have three shit-scared children under the age of 10 in it.

I'd somehow managed to leave the shop at the same time as their mum, who had nipped in for some bits and bobs while leaving the kids in the car. I'd hit my central locking at around the same time as their mum, hence me thinking it was my car that was blinking at me out of the corner of my eye, when in fact I was parked about three cars further down the road.

Tricky one to explain, that. Dunno who looked more scared, the kids, the mum or me.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:39, Reply)
Head Gasket
The head gasket blew on my car. My brother and I removed the head and after cleaning it up and removing the valves I decided it would be a good idea to get the valve guides replaced.

My brother wrapped the cylinder head in a large piece of rag and placed it in the boot of my car. I removed the cylinder head from the boot and placed it in a large holdall that I had brought along for the purpose. My brother looked a bit puzzled and said "Oh aren't you driving home then?". Yes - he was serious!
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:38, Reply)
Losing it, bank cards and the OAPS.
This happened a while ago: I needed to go to the ATM at lunchtime. As I am walking towards the town centre, looking for the one with the shortest queue, I see one that is totally available. I walk towards it, not really thinking and then I see an old man in a wheelchair and his equally old female companion with a walking stick heading directly at it. I’m aware that I start walking slightly faster, wanting to not get caught behind them in the queue. And in that second a dozen different scenarios pop into my head as I realise I am trying to race two octogenarian invalids in a way that is too pathetic for words. What if she falls over? What if she has a heart attack. What if he knocks her over with his wheel chair? What if I see my boss, as I am speedwalking next to a pair of white haired, liver spotted dead people walking? I forced myself to slow down, took a deep breath and tried accept that waiting two minutes while they sort themselves out and get their paltry state pension into their shaky arthritic hands is not going to destroy my day. I am not that impatient that it will put me in a bad mood, surely?

Well, yes, and no. But mainly yes.

7 minutes I waited as a long queue formed behind them. She couldn’t find open her handbag, then she couldn’t open her purse, then she couldn’t find her bankcard, then she couldn’t bend down to pick it up when she dropped it. At this point I kicked her walking stick away and stepped over her crying body and withdrew my money.

No, obviously not.

At that point I bent down and picked it up for her and very politely smiled as I put it in her hand and stepped back to give her space to get her money. While imagining kicking her walking stick away and stepping over her crying body to withdraw my money. And then the muttering began, whether to herself or to her wheelchair bound husband who she was unaware was out of earshot, having positioned himself so he could watch the waitresses at the Italian Café on the corner, I am not sure:

‘Insert card where?’
‘oh, it’s the wrong way up’
‘how do I get it back?’
‘ha…I pressed cancel’
‘How do I use this’
‘I can’t remember my number’
‘What’s enter?’
‘Please? Number’
‘oh dear’


And at that point I realised that if I didn’t stop her she was about to announce her PIN to the entire queue, including a couple of people that I wouldn’t trust with a safety pin, let alone a bank PIN.

I perhaps should have been gentler than just shouting ‘STOP!’ though. I thought she was going to drop dead from the fright.

I was only trying to help, I promise. I hope she’s recovered now. I was scared to watch the local news that night, just in case there is a ‘Pensioner Frightened To Death. Impatient Man Sought By Police’ story on it.
(, Fri 22 Jul 2011, 16:24, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

Pages: Latest, 11, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, ... 1