I experienced this today. Apparently I was involved in something during last year’s TT (Tourist Trophy) festival on the Isle of Man about which I haven’t even a microscopic hint of a suggestion of a memory about.
It’s quite possible the informant is mistaken and he’s thinking of someone else… but it was enough to make me serously wonder if I got in such a state that I blacked out parts of my recollections of those two weeks.
I know I got stoned. I know I got drunk. But I distinctly remember moderating everything to stop myself doing some thing or things I knew I’d regret.
So…
Have you been informed of stuff you did that you have no memory of?
Too many times. I guess once would be too many, really, but there it is.
A slightly funny story is about the time when I woke up after an evening of hard drinking and get to the computer to get my updates on the state of the world. A friend contacts me over IM and asks if I’m sober. I answer in the affirmative, wondering why he’s asking the question as he didn’t know I had been out drinking.
“Well, you posted to <Forum where we both hang out> last night while you were drinking and you’d want to look at that when you’re sober.”
Oh shit. I have no memory of this. I thought I came home and crashed immediately. What the hell did I post while under the influence? I bring up the thread url my friend gave me, and read with mounting dread…
“I want to respond to this when I’m sober. If I haven’t responded in 24 hours, could someone remind me? Thanks.” That’s it.
I was so fucking proud of myself. Too drunk to think straight, but sober enough to know it.
Yeah…ugh. Last summer, on my first night home on summer vacation. Went to my friend’s house to play some hold 'em and get messed up. Had some beers. Sat in clouds of pot smoke. Had some more beers. We run out of beer and decide to climb on top the cabinets to get down that bottle of Jameson that her parents left up there years ago. Me and one other person drink bottle.
Apparently I was laying in the hallway of my friends’ house, with my head in a trashcan, yelling for help because I was puking and saying all sorts of stupid crap. All I remember is waking up on the couch the next morning with puke on my flip flop and a bit on my new, cute jacket. Some other friends showed up and I had no clue. Had to sleep on the couch hungover at home because grandma had my room until her new apartment was ready. Mom purposely made lots of noise and cooked stuff that had strong smells.
Not proud of that one. I stay away from the hard stuff now.
Yes. More times then I should have,and it always involved booze. Nothing recent though.
The last one was when I woke up after a night drinking and tried to get up. I soon realised I could put no weight on my left ankle at all. I had to call Nocturnal_Tick for help, and he was able to explain my injury. I’d apparently fallen down the stairs in a bar. :smack:
My mother insists that I attended her company Christmas party with her when I was about 16 or 17. I have absolutely no memory whatsoever of the event. And I think I would. Apparantly people at work remember me being there but I think I would remember going to some big Christmas party, emember the food, the raffle, the boring speeches, something.
Wow, OK this is incredibly embarrassing but I’ll tell it.
Once, in college, I got really, really, really stoned with my roommate and some of his friends, and went to a seminar/debate on the issue of legalizing drug use (we were using it as part of a class assignment as well).
I remember going to the seminar. By the way, it was in a large auditorium on campus and it was packed with students and teachers alike. What I didn’t remember, my now ex-roommate told me when I met up with him a couple years later for a little reminiscing. Apparently, during the discussion the topic of AIDS came up. At this moment, I saw it fit to yell out, at the top of my lungs in the crowded auditorium “Yeah, AIDS!”
I had completely blocked that out of my memory until he told me this years later. I truly refused to believe it. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was right. I did that. And I have no excuse other than being young, dumb, and ridiculously stoned out of my mind. To everyone that was there: I’m sorry. That was quite inappropriate.
I’ve lost big chunks of time before, after, and naturally, during seizures. When I had one at work, a co-worker told me afterwards that I’d tried to leave the building by a fire door. I had to take his word for it, because all I remember is a perfect match cut between kneeling down by the file cabinets, and sitting on my couch at home, with him and another co-worker asking if I wanted the TV remote and anything to drink. Makes me wonder what they asked me at the hospital to determine that I was lucid. Because I have zero memory of having been there, and they must have done something to satisfy themselves that I was functional. (Right?)
Another one happened at home, and that time, I lost the entire day beforehand (it happened late at night.) Came home the next day (woke up instantly when the nurse tapped my shoulder, and was cognizant enough to say, “Did I come in with shoes?”), and the day after that, resumed reading a book I’d been working on. Started at the point where I consciously remembered leaving off, but as I went on, began thinking, “I bet this is gonna happen; didn’t he already say that?” and so forth. Must have been reading it during my pre-seizure blackout and retained the memory of the text, though not of the act of reading.
Not quite the same thing, but once when I was about 10, a rather elderly woman came to visit, and kept insisting that I must remember her, because she remembered meeting me. Turns out our one previous encounter had been when I was a year old.
I’ve never once lost short term memories from being drunk (although of course how would I know? - what I mean is that there are never unexplained gaps in my memory on the hangover day), or for any other reason.
Anyway, I bumped into an old friend I hadn’t seen for years and he said it was good to see me again, but that he had been surprised to see me at Creamfields the week before. I hadn’t a clue what he was talking about, and said so.
(I later found out that Creamfields is an enormous open-air dance festival/rave - absolutely, positively not my scene at all and I wouldn’t be dragged there dead)
Anyway, he apparently mistook my utter confusion for embarrassed denial and ribbed me a little on it, saying I’d been ‘off my head’ that night. The conversation drew out into a truly bewildering exchange.
Later on, he phoned me at home and said it was OK and not to worry, he understood I was ashamed of having gone there and that he wouldn’t tell anyone. I continued to protest my genuine complete ignorance and lack of understanding of what he was talking about. He became nervous and giggly about this.
Genuinely concerned for his sanity, I called one of his friends to ask if everything was alright and only by this friend’s explanation did I start to understand what Creamfields was and what was being alleged that I had done.
So in conclusion, this guy saw someone at Creamfields, thought it was me and spent some time talking to him, still leaving with the impression that it was me, but that I was ‘off my head’ (I guess if my doppelganger had asked “who the hell are you?” or “do I know you?” at some point, that might well have engendered such an impression)
A few months ago, a friend of mine took me, her roommate, and my then on-again-off-again SO (off at the time, and apparently freshly fucked by the Other Guy right before I picked her up that night–that one stung) to a baseball game for my birthday. The friend got us drunk, me most of all considering it was my birthday. And when I say drunk, I mean drunk–a full glass or two of Captain Morgan barely diluted with orange juice, followed by a small handful of Smirnoff shots and a few beers at the ballgame. I found out the next day that I:
(a) Grabbed at my off-again SO’s vaginal region (through her pants, meaning from the outside) in front of all the men, women and children filing into the stadium from that side;
and (b) offended several groups of parents and the elderly enough (with all the super-loud swearing and such) that they confronted my friend about it; she looked sober but was really the second drunkest of us all and she says she told one elderly couple to “turn down your fucking hearing aid then!”.
I have no recollection of the above events. Nor do I remember anything about the game. But the next day I did remember breaking down in tears and loudly insisting it was my best birthday ever for hours after the game, and I remembered pleading for a special birthday kiss from Ms. Off-Again when it was just us on the beach a few hours afterwards, and I remember that I got it, but by the morning I’d forgotten the kiss itself. That was torture, since my life had been bereft of her kisses for a little while before and a long while after that.
That’s the only time I ever did things drunk that I didn’t remember later; normally I recall even the most boring details of my drunkest escapades, including the time I successfully evaded/talked my way out of three arrests on Halloween night 2004. But I really went to town that night.
I should say that, in my younger - wilder - days, there were plenty of times I wished I had no memory of the proceedings of the night before; also, not just a few occasions on which I claimed I had no memory of the proceedings of the night before, because this seemed likely to make embarrassing situations fade away quicker.
In the same manner as **Rilchiam ** I am often ‘reminded’ of things which happened before memory sets in. As a child I always wanted to go to a safari park located about forty miles away. I was always turned down on the grounds that I had already been (when I was less than two). :rolleyes:
My mother also seems to be unable to keep memories straight. She frequently assigns memories and preferences on a fairly random basis and maintains that whatever her latest recollection is, is the real one. I can’t count the number of times she’s told me that I like x when in reality I hate it and it was really one of the kids she used to nanny for before my birth that liked it.
At the beginning of March she phoned me and during the conversation happened to enquire if my father was permitted to have his Christmas present yet. I was incredibly confused because I’d already given my father his present at the time - some fine wines and whisky. Upon enquiring she stated (and still maintains) that I had instructed her to keep them away from my father and not let him drink them. She also asked me about my plans for April because I had ‘promised’ that I’d try to fly up to visit them at around that time. The problem here is that I had - *last * year. I’d say it was senile dementia but she’s always been that way. sigh
OK, I am going to admit a pretty bad one.
I was at the christmas/newyears-party of the (small) company I was working for.
At a certain point I had had enough of the party and thought it would be best if I left.
(People had been looking at me strangely, so I gathered I had a bit too much to drink and people were starting to get annoyed by my loud/obnoxious behaviour)
I remember leaving…
The next thing I remember is me trying to pull my scooter from the sand at a spot where there was road-maintenance going on.
I had thought I could drive through the wet sand, but failed.
Apparently I had driven blind-drunk from my place of work to about halfway where I wanted to go, at least 10 miles… :eek:
Ah, yes, a cousin of Mom’s did the same to me at my great-uncle’s funeral, when I was 22. I informed him, completely deadpan, that since that last time he’d seen me (at my baptism, age 3 days old), not only had I stopped getting my height measured on the horizontal, I’d also learned my letters.
Some of my childhood memories are amazingly different from Mom’s memories of the same period or event. She claims that as a child I didn’t like to draw; I remember stopping to draw for five years after one of my drawings freaked out a bunch of my adults (remember, when you’re 5, anybody taller than you is One Of The Gods; anything that freaks out The Gods is, by definition, Bad).
Never had a blackout myself, but once, after a party, one of my dorm-mates came down at 3pm still in her oversized T-shirt/sleeping shirt… got out… looked her car over… came in asking “wha’ 'd I do to the car?” She didn’t even remember parking it halfway inside a hollow tree when we got to the dance hall after dinner, much less how she’d managed to hit all four corners as she left. Since the tree wasn’t complaining and the two people on both sides were also from our school, they just ran the insurance papers at the cafeteria on Monday morning.
The Paycheck, is basically a movie about a guy who works for a top secret company in exchange for $90 million at the end of three years. As part of the deal, he agrees to have his memory of that time period completely erased. After said erasure, he finds he signed away his rights to the check, but left himself a couple dozen specific items in the envelope he used to check into the facility. He uses these items to successfully evade, and planted winning lottery ticket numbers (the top secret company built a laser lens that could see into the future by looking past the curvature of the universe… or something), and lived happily ever after.
I’m lucky (unlucky?) enough to remember everything that happens when I drink too much. I remember the dizziness, the nausea, any particularly stupid things I said or did, the vomiting. It’s all there in my head, nice and vivid, when I wake up the next morning.
With that blessing (curse?), I don’t drink too much very often, because I’m all too aware of the consequences. I think the only time I’ve gotten falling-down drunk in the last 20 years was the night my father died–and I did it on purpose.
