Talking with my brother while looking through our collection of old toys (or, in most cases, small pieces of old toys that fell apart long ago):
I: For crying out loud! I'm the three-time world memory champion, you're putting me to shame by picking up a thirty-year-old scrap of plastic and saying "Ah, yes, we bought this at 10:07am on July 3rd 1982 in Ashley's toyshop in Boston, third shelf on the left..."
He: Yes, but my memory can only remember completely useless things like that, not anything remotely useful.
I: That's my line.
Seriously, I thank my lucky stars repeatedly that my brother has never seen fit to learn memory techniques, because he comes closer than anyone I've ever met to the fabled "photographic memory". It's scary. He's got synaesthesia too, you know.