Post: #1

Hello fellow Deplorables, I’ve been here a while now, and I figured it’s time I contributed. I’ve noticed this subsection is heavy on data sheets and light on anecdotes, so I figured I would try and tie them both together in a little recap of some of my more debaucherous nights abroad.

So recently, Lord Mayor Muff Sniff and myself did a tour of Europe with a small cameo in Bangkok. This thread will be a recap of the tour, sharing some anecdotes, some reviews, and some of our more interesting moments.

Stop Number One… Prague:

As for the city itself, everyone knows Prague. It’s got cheap beer, an infestation of tourists, and an astronomical clock that will trip you the fuck out if you’ve accidently taken LSD laced weed from some nefarious American backpackers, but I digress… This story centers around a two-day bender with Mr. Lord Mayor Muff Sniff in Prague, where we saw everything worth seeing, some things we shouldn’t have seen, and others, which will scar us for life.

So as a little primer for all those travel snobs out there, both myself and Mr. Muff Sniff aren’t the most accustomed travellers. If you’ve ever stayed in a hostel and had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting two dapper, shit talking Australian’s then you have probably met us… More or less. On the plus side, we do love to grab em by the pussy, so there’s that.

Now our bender begins by downing a six-pack of Kozel Beer [You know the ones with the jacked up yak on the label], and trying to game our fellow ladies in our dormitory. Two Ukrainian girls. A statue of Liberty out of ten. A four in Trump speak.

Unfortunately, hello is as much as they could say, and there does come a point where staring with a smile crosses some unofficial line of creepy. Luckily for us, that unofficial point came at the exact moment our a-typical French roommates decided to stroll on in. For anyone who has stayed in a hostel, you will know that a Frenchman is the only person more annoying than an Australian.

Any who, we leave our 1 star palace of luxury and begin to amble through the beautiful cobblestone streets. For a brief moment I thought I was Owen Wilson in ‘Midnight in Paris’ but that just reminded me of Woody Allen, and that reminded me that he fucks his daughter, so the moment was lost.

A few hundred feet later we reach our destination. The Prague Pub Crawl [This was Muff Sniff’s idea. Judge him]. While I didn’t want to degrade myself to being one of those chodes who waddle around from pub to pub with a tour guide, the six Kozel beers had me warming up to the idea.

At this point I should mention, I had lost my dress shoes in a previous location, so I was wearing a pair of second hand, glossy black wedding shoes, a pair of stained sky blue jeans [Who would have thought Czech washing machines are labeled in Czech?] and a plain black T-Shirt. Mr. Muff Sniff was decked out in a bucket hat, baggy jeans and a pimp jacket. It would have been okay if he was a pimp, but unfortunately he’s just a slightly chubby white guy. Upon entering this fine establishment however, we discovered that “Yep. We fit right in. A room full of complete miscreants”. Not a single Fingerhut in sight…

Now if any of you worldly gentleman are ever thinking of heading on this pub crawl [And so far it doesn’t sound great] here are the basics: It’s located about 1minutes walk from the main square, you get 1 hours free drinks, visit 3 bars, and finish at Karlovy Lazne. The big multi-story club everyone raves about.

So where were we? Entered the pub, a real sausage fest and figured we’d wasted 15 Euro, So we did what all good Australian men do… Drink. 1 hours free booze, and we managed to easily pay for the price of admission. Unfortunately, seconds after the free booze hour was up, the women began arriving. Almost like God drove a bus of them there just to tease us at our state of incredible inebriation.

What God failed to realize however, is that Sydney’s draconian nightlife laws had given us the super human ability to hide our liquor well. Years of trying to act sober, even when we were sober were finally becoming useful.

Mr. Muff Sniff was the first to act. He’s really grasped hold of the law “He who hesistates masturbates”. He idled up to a group of six girls. Three sevens, one six, one five, and a warthog. I’m not sure what he said, but I bet it was good. By the time I get there he’s already acquainted and I’m already disappointed. They’re American. We fly all the way to Prague, and we’re talking to fucking American’s.

Seconds later we’re bounced from pub number one to pub number two. A location change. I’m not big on game lingo, but I know that accelerates things to like 2nd date level or something right? [Probably wrong] but I roll with it. I’ve been stuck with one of the sevens, and gone in for the snog. Nailed it. Big league.

Moments later I roll onto a table with three Czech girls. Things are going well until I see Muff Sniff. He’s reached a new level of inebriation that only I can recognize. He ambles up and says “Look man, lets be honest, these girls are a four a best, but I’ve found some real fine honey’s down stairs” [He becomes Malibu’s Most Wanted the more he drinks]. Now it was at this moment that I fucked up. He had in fact found some real fine honeys, and I made the mistake of sticking with my group of Czechs.

Things start to get a little hazy for the next hour, and suddenly I find myself at Karlovy Lazne. I’m not sure whether it was the Absinthe, or just God’s own version of payback, but here I was on level three? Watching some go-go dancer on stage while the American Warthog rubbed my D through my jeans. It was a nightmare. To make matters worse, Muff Sniff strolls in on the arm of this Swiss eight, blond, toned body, tanned. He says his goodbyes and disappears from the club.

So where does this leave me? Well everyman knows that point where it’s late, real late, there is something next to you, emphasis on something, and you wonder… Is it better than nothing? I must have deliberated on this point for a good 45 minutes before I caved and said “Alright”.

We leave the club, stroll across the Charles Bridge and I kid you not, this warthog wants a burger. They say you are what you eat, but there comes a point. I mean… Anyway.... So Ms. MacDonald’s USA finishes her Double beef and bacon burger, and we head back to her place at The Hotel U.

After encountering more crack heads that I can poke a stick at, and at least 45minutes of questioning the direction of my life, I amble upstairs towards the hotel room and delude myself into thinking “This ain’t that bad”. We enter the room, I use the toilet, and what happens next is an act of God.

I return to a glorious sight. The beached whale, sleeping beautifully with a mustache of tomato sauce, and an array of silk linen covering her misshapen thighs, but what’s better: Her friend, the seven is in a bed next to her. She thanks me for being such a gentleman and bringing her friend home. My reward: A hand job for my troubles.

When life gives you lemons… Umm, I can’t remember the analogy, but the moral of the story is: Shit night. Got a hand job. Now Mr. Muff Sniff had a slightly better flag, but this bender isn’t over yet… We both got home around the same time, had four hours sleep and kicked off Prague Numero Due which I’ll detail shortly…

Post: #2

Welcome to the tribe. Funny story ha. Look forward to part two. It's the first time I have heard finger-hut or wart hog to describe a woman. Muff Sniff seems like he will fit right in here.

Post: #3

(10-22-2016 07:09 AM)Guile Wrote:  I return to a glorious sight. The beached whale, sleeping beautifully with a mustache of tomato sauce, and an array of silk linen covering her misshapen thighs, but what’s better: Her friend, the seven is in a bed next to her. She thanks me for being such a gentleman and bringing her friend home. My reward: A hand job for my troubles.

Post: #4

Alright: Prague Part two. The bender continues: So we pick up where I left off… I amble back into our hostel, and am quickly joined by Mr, Muff Sniff. A distinct waft of fish in the air.

The time is roughly 6am, and everyone is asleep. Unfortunately we managed all of four hours shut eye before the generic Eastern European housemaid waddled into the room and began yelling at the both of us to get up so that she could make the bed [Which of course was rather redundant as we were just going to get back in once she left].

Two hours of horrible sleep later and we are woken by our new roommates. Two Americans. A poor mans Cheech and Chong It’s around midday and we figure there’s no rest for the wicked. We make nice and join them for some shisha and a bong in a little joint down by the Charles Bridge. We learn that they have hitched hiked there way across from Amsterdam. After sharing some stories, they decide to do some sightseeing and we decide to catch up with a couple of Austrian girls we met a few nights earlier.

So as a little primer, I always thought Australian’s could drink. I mean we’re a nation of convicts. Alcoholism is to Australians, as fat is to feminists. We learnt however that Austrians could drink us under the table. We rock up to their hostel at around 6pm, are greeted with cheese and crackers, a sack of cheap wine, and some strange village songs which seemed remarkably racist in nature. Not the type to be put off by a few red flags, we decide to stick with the girls, drink the wine and escort them to a little place called the Cross Club.

Essentially, this joint is like the love child of Mad Max and Roadhouse. It’s designed with the remnants of hubcaps and various scrap metal, and it’s filled with the finest bikers in all of Prague.



Now the situation is this: Muff Sniff is trying to pull this tall brunette who is apparently dating a drug dealer back in Linz. Me? Well I’m going after her friend, a slim blond, who is cockblocking Muff Sniff. Why would she do such a thing? Well, in her words: The drug dealing boyfriend “Is such a nice guy”. With logic like this, should women really be allowed to vote? I mean… Really?

Off topic. Anyway, the bar itself is a pretty nice joint. The drinks are cheap, they play live rock music, and have a range of foosball tables to raise the energy of you and your date [If you so happen to take one here].

So, I decided to hit the bar and order my new favorite drink. The Desperado. Part Tequila part beer. Why Australian doesn’t stock these, I have no idea. Muff Sniff heads to the bathroom with his lass. At the time I thought they were fucking, but I later came to realize he was taking speed [But we’ll get to the after effects of that later].

So things are going well, things are getting cozy when little Ms. Austria tells me they better go back to the hostel to pack. Why? Well apparently they are taking the 5am bus back to Linz. I meet Muff Sniff and his lady friend outside and we hightail it back to their hostel in a taxi. The time is 2am. I think to myself. “I’ve got three hours. We’ll get round to the sex eventually”. I take a look at Muff Sniff and he’s looking a little different. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but the change is there.

We reach the hostel, head down to the dorm and are given what I now assume is the customary cheese and crackers for all guests in an Austrian abode. I mean, cheese and crackers on arrival? Cool. Cheese and crackers before sex? A bit odd. So we’re sitting down in the middle of the room. Me, Muff Sniff and the girls, all chatting away with our cheese and crackers.



I check my watch and the time is three fifteen. I start hinting at sex when a cock blocker rears his ugly head. Yes, his ugly head… Mr. Muff Sniff. How is he cock blocking you might ask? Well as I came to realize, one of the big side effects of speed is that it makes one rather emotional. For the next 45minute, Mr. Muff Sniff regaled our female audience of his entire life story. The ups and the downs. Eventually the clock struck four, his girl decided to start packing, and my balls were starting to resemble a member of the blue man group.

For future reference, if your mate does decide to inadvertently cock block you due to his first taste of speed, try and lure him outside with the false hope of KFC, Megan Fox or something equally alluring. Once you get him outside, just lock him out.

Anyway, after hearing him ramble for almost an hour, I decide enough is enough. I invite my girl back to my hostel. Not enough time she says. I nod defeated when she follows up with “But we can use my bed”. Do I dare have sex with this girl in front of her friend and a drugged up Muff Sniff? I knew the answer. I climbed onto the top bunk, pulled over the covers and began to undress my prize when I glanced left… Mr. Muff Sniff just sitting there. Looking. Staring. His dopey face staring right into my soul. I took a deep breath, zipped up my pants, said goodbye and made the long cold walk back to our hostel. A night that promised so much had ended with nothing.

As we reached our human cattle station, I realized the Lord Mayor of Muff Sniffing was on another planet. I put him to bed, slid on his headphones, and hit Justin Bieber’s ‘Baby on loop’. Still blue balled and hungry as hell, I joined my newfound American compadres for some of Prague’s finest, greasiest pizza. After sharing my ball busting night out, I returned back to the hotel. Mr. Muff Sniff was asleep. Justin Bieber was still on loop, and I was ready to dream of sex in Trump Towers with Pre-baby body Ivanka.



In the coming days we hit Copenhagen, Paris, Amsterdam and Bangkok. So, more incoming…

Post: #5

(10-23-2016 03:35 AM)Guile Wrote:  Mr. Muff Sniff just sitting there. Looking. Staring. His dopey face staring right into my soul.

Just wow!

Post: #6

Muff Sniff might be a little bit homo.



Jokes.

Post: #7

Great stories. I need to go back to Prague. Backpacker slut central and not bad for tinder either.

Post: #8

(10-23-2016 03:35 AM)Guile Wrote:  I climbed onto the top bunk, pulled over the covers and began to undress my prize when I glanced left… Mr. Muff Sniff just sitting there. Looking. Staring. His dopey face staring right into my soul. I took a deep breath, zipped up my pants, said goodbye and made the long cold walk back to our hostel. A night that promised so much had ended with nothing.

I recall this differently

Post: #9

(10-23-2016 06:46 AM)LordMayorMuffSniff Wrote:  

(10-23-2016 03:35 AM)Guile Wrote:  I climbed onto the top bunk, pulled over the covers and began to undress my prize when I glanced left… Mr. Muff Sniff just sitting there. Looking. Staring. His dopey face staring right into my soul. I took a deep breath, zipped up my pants, said goodbye and made the long cold walk back to our hostel. A night that promised so much had ended with nothing.

I recall this differently

Post: #10

You guys are awesome, +1 from me, its data sheets like these that keep me on this forum.

Post: #11

(10-23-2016 07:37 AM)scotian Wrote:  You guys are awesome, +1 from me, its data sheets like these that keep me on this forum.

Well thanks man. This forum is the last of a dying breed.

Post: #12

Great stories... Welcome to the club.

Post: #13

Man I'd love to backpack with you guys.

Reminds me of my epic first European trip.

Post: #14

Copenhagen:

Travelling’s a funny thing. You can have ten people go to one city and get ten different opinions. Roosh says ‘Don’t bang Denmark’, and within hours I both agree and disagree. The women were stunning on one hand and the world’s biggest feminists on the other but I’ll touch on that in day two… For now, here is our first day in Copenhagen:

After Prague, both Muff Sniff and myself needed a day to chill. We arrive at the airport and immediately sense the mood shift from the moment we land. It’s like Ikea without the price tags. Fresh air, clean, an odd charm.

We catch a train to a suburb we can’t pronounce, and make our way to the Sleep in Heaven Hostel. If anyone is backpacking, this is a really cool joint. A big common area, pool table, a range of lagers on tap, and a bunch of other travellers keen for a party. So like I said, me an Muff Sniff were tired, hung over, and ready to crash. We check in, claim our beds and get ready to sleep. We lie down for all of five seconds when Muff Sniff says: “One beer?”

“Yeah. Just one”. So Muff Sniff heads to the bar and I rack up a game of pool. I’m just about ready to break when Muff Sniff returns. He’s holding two big fat steins of beer. “It’s technically one right?”. Well mid way through the stein, two American girls wander into the common room. One is reading Jane Austin. The other poetry. So for the purposes of the story, we’ll call one of them Jane, and the other Edgar [Because Edgar Allen Poe is the only Poet I know].

Looks wise, they’re pretty much the poster children for feminism. Edgar is like a less hot Scary Spice, while Jane is just as her name suggest… Plain. That said, girls are girls, and we’re Deplorable, so we wait all of ten seconds before we ask them if they want to play? Sure they do. It would be rude not to.

A few steins later we all decide to check out a nearby bar. It’s a Sunday night, so it’s completely empty. The bar tender is a real cool dude. He gives us full control of the sound system and we spend the next six hours drinking way too much with a couple of girls, who as it turns out, are pretty cool once they drop the feminist ‘shtick’. To make matters even better, both ladies were flying out first thing in the morning, so if we shacked up, we didn’t have to see them again.

Now as it got close to midnight, something unfortunate happened to Muff Sniff, but to explain why, I have to back track a little. Before we checked into the hostel, we decided to do some shopping. We went to a local supermarket, and for whatever reason, almost everything was sold out except for white bread, mayonnaise, and some strange meat substitute called Fruhstucksfleish. Keep in mind, over the past few days our diet has mainly been beer and takeaway. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the Fruhstuckfleish, but something gave Mr. Muff Sniff the runs.



At this point, we weren’t quite as drunk as Prague, but we were close. Muff Sniff decided to stumble home before he soiled himself, Jane decided to head to bed, and I decided to wander the city with Edgar. On the way home, she started talking about the Hans Christen Andersen Cemetery [Beautiful during the day. Key word being day].

Now things get a little hazy here, but somehow, a five foot tall Edgar, and a can’t stand straight Guile managed to scale a huge concrete wall and enter the cemetery, but the moment we landed on the other side I realized: We done fucked up. The park was pitch black. This side of the wall was too high to climb, and we were completely shit faced. For the next 45 minutes I discovered what it would feel like to be Helen Keller in a hedge maze. We stumbled around the cemetery bumping into trees, bushes, and slipping into mud until we finally found the gate and scaled our way to freedom.

On the plus side, I had just been handed the easiest lay I’ve ever had in my life. Allow me to elaborate. After our adventure in the cemetery, I was covered in mud, she was covered in mud, Muff Sniff had locked me out of his room, and she was in a room by herself so you do the math: We wash up. I don’t have a change of clothes and she has the only bed.

Now what happened next is something I am really, really not proud of, but keep in mind I’m incredibly drunk. I mean the room is still spinning. So we’ve done our business, she’s fast asleep and I need to pee. Unfortunately, the problem with the dorm room doors, it that once you leave the room they lock. That means, chances are, if I went to the bathroom, I would be stuck, naked, in a cold hostel corridor for hours until everyone woke up. My only option was to MacGyver the shit out of this situation. I shook Edgar. She was out. Nothing was waking her. I quietly climb down from the top bunk, and spot a bin in the corner of the room. I figure, I pee in the bin, and hide it in the corner of the room. Foolproof right? So I drain the lizard, keeping one eye on Edgar. She doesn’t move. Mission accomplished. I hide the bin, and climb back into bed satisfied with my ingenuity.

Unfortunately, what seems logical in a drunken haze isn’t practical in real life. The next morning I wake to see Edgar leaving the room. She stops in the doorway holding what looks like a remarkably wet suitcase. She gives me the finger and walks off. “What did I do?” I’m in a new country, still a bit dazed and confused when it hits me: The bin! I peer at my hiding spot and to my surprise I identify the problem. It’s a mesh bin. I peed in a mesh-fucking bin!



This poor girl’s suitcase was the victim of a flood in a Copenhagen Hostel. Instantly I knew I was probably going to be referred to as the midnight pee villain in Vox, Salon or some other feminist blog, but hey… I still got the flag.

So after making sure Edgar had left, I drape myself in a sheet, looking like Caesar in his prime, triumphantly walk down the corridor and detail my night to Mr. Muff Sniff. All in all, it was a great first day. So to recap: Guile got a notch. Muff Sniff didn’t shit himself, and we were both feeling ready for a big night two in Copenhagen which I’ll detail shortly…

Post: #15

Ah man you missed us jumping behind the bar and serving each other drinks whilst the owner cleaned the toilet! Also the runs were definitely a blessing- You should have called the girl I had the Edgar man, on revision she was a pog

Post: #16

(10-24-2016 08:18 AM)LordMayorMuffSniff Wrote:  Ah man you missed us jumping behind the bar and serving each other drinks whilst the owner cleaned the toilet! Also the runs were definitely a blessing- You should have called the girl I had the Edgar man, on revision she was a pog

I was trying to be diplomatic, but you're right. She wasn't the most handsome woman I've ever met. You know what? I thought we we're getting free drinks because the bartender was a cool dude. Not because you broke the toilet!

Post: #17

Hilarious XD

Post: #18

Copenhagen Part 2:

So after an eventful day one, I start day two in a Danish Laundromat, with my mud stained clothes, trying to figure out how to use machines that look like they were around during the industrial revolution.

After a good three hours to wash a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I amble back to the hostel to find Mr. Muff Sniff associating with a group of lads at the pool table. I drop my stuff off in the room and join them for some breakfast burgers and beers.

As a side note, you’re all probably wondering how these guys back up night after night. Honestly, we can’t drink like this back in Sydney. One night, and we need a week to recover, but in Europe there is something about the climate. No matter how drunk you are, once that cold air hits you, within about 5 minutes you start to sober up big league.

Anyway, the group consists of two Americans. One who said he spent the past two months in Romania with travelling Gypsies, and a second who was your typical ‘bro’ who I’ll nickname Pinocchio. I join the conversation just as he’s re-telling his story of nailing an Asian banger in a New York apartment. Even though I’m positive that was a scene from 'Limitless", I give him a fist bump for the effort. Also in the group was an Australian who I dubbed Mr. Cockblock [But more on that later].

Now here’s the thing: Since we left Australia for Europe, we had partied nearly every day, which is cool, but here's the problem: You get home at five am, sleep until one pm, and by the time you’ve had breakfast it’s already getting dark.

So day two in Copenhagen was really night two, and night two was just about to begin. So it’s around 6pm and the crew, Muff Sniff, Gypsy, Pinocchio, Cockblock and myself head to a local café for some pre-party drinks.

As a side note: For anyone traveling to Copenhagen, coffee shops act like mini bars. They're open pretty late, and they’re perfect as a starter location for a date. Anyway, as a group we drink away in the coffee shop. Pinocchio tells a story of a girl who paid him for sex in Prague. We all know the stories are bullshit, but he’s a fun guy, and they’re pretty entertaining.

After the coffee shop, we wander the streets and end up in a small little bar packed with about 12 Danish girls on a work function. Scientists apparently. This is the point where I both agree, and disagree with Roosh on the women we encountered. On the one hand, for the most part, they were above average [Especially if you’ve ever seen the trolls in Australia], but on the other hand, these girls gave feminism a new meaning… Allow me to elaborate:

We enter the bar, the other boys find a place to sit, me an Muff Sniff are getting pretty tired of the sausage fest so we hit up foosball table and challenge the girls to a game. Within minutes, things are cozy; conversation is flowing, when they begin to lecture us about politics. Australian politics. Here we were, in Copenhagen Denmark, being lectured on some of our Nationalist political figures. In fucking Copenhagen. If these girls weren’t cute I would say don’t bang Denmark but I digress…

Once the foundations were laid, the other boys sauntered over and casually joined into the conversation. It was around this point, that the Australian tagalong got the nickname of cock block. Now to qualify what was about to happen, earlier that night I had told the boys that I don’t like coke, which is true. I’m not a big drug fiend like Mr. Muff Sniff. So, I was talking to this girl, cute, maybe a 7 by Danish standards, a bit higher in Australia, and she asked me to go somewhere private to snort some blow. Well, I say I know a place, she smiles, and Mr. Cockblock struts up and says, “he hates coke, he’s staying in a hostel and he has a girlfriend, guess which one is false?”

What follows is probably the worst pivot game you’ve ever seen, and the girl is gone. Oh well.



I down another delicious lager, and Mr. Muff Sniff decides to call it a night. Still recovering from the runs unfortunately. His night wasn’t over though. So the funny thing about Copenhagen, is the girls go to a pub, they all get hammered, then they ride their push bikes home. It’s actually pretty funny. If you pick up a girl, chances are you can hitch a ride home on her bike. The reason I say this, is to say that Muff Sniff’s night didn’t end when he left the pub. Some bird’s push bike had a problem with the gears, he volunteered to fix it, and he says he got a reward… Now I don't know the whole story. Perhaps he can fill in the blanks on this one?

So once Muff Sniff left, it was just me and cock block. The time was about midnight, the science gash was leaving, and I figured my night was about over until…

I spot Pinocchio and the Gypsy talking to this Danish stunner, a legit nine, and her male friend. For the first time in the entire night, I begin to question whether Pinocchio was in fact a gaming God. I take a seat, but before I can introduce myself, a liquored up cock block has taken the reigns. For a good ten minutes I sit back and watch as he tells her the ins and outs of coffee bean harvesting, and the exact criteria for selecting triple pick coffee beans. Fascinating. Really.

So while this is occurring, I make nice with her friend. He’s a cool dude. Turns out he’s a bit of a drug fiend like Mr. Muff Sniff. They would have had a lot fun, but alas, it wasn’t to be. He buys me a beer, offers me a Molly, and asks if I’ve seen Christiania yet? “No... Who's that?”

Who's that indeed...

Well, turns out Christiania's actually this small little neighborhood which has it’s own loose rule structure, is very liberal with drugs, and a real ‘who gives a fuck’ policy when it comes to their bars. How do I know this? The Danish stunner, who also turned out to be a little drug fiend [You missed an easy lay Muff Sniff], decided to take us all there. Me. Pinocchio. Gypsy and Cockblock. Now before I go any further... This place is cool. Well worth a look.

So she takes us to this unassuming, run down [Shithole] of a bar. There’s actually a queue. In fact, one of the guys in the line has brought with him his own bottle of vodka. In Australia, I could get rejected by a bouncer for smelling of apple juice, and this bloke; a mid 40’s Polish dude got let in with his own bottle!

So we get in, the music’s banging, I finally cave on the molly [Well I held out for all of ten minutes. I’m fucking pathetic] and start doing Vodka shots with the Polish guy. Now I don’t actually know whether he’s Polish, but the language he was speaking sounded like it might have been, and I don’t really know whether we were actually drinking Vodka, but within 30 minutes I was more drunk than I have ever been in my life. We were having a great conversation. I mean, I didn’t understand a word he was saying, but we were both laughing...

Next thing I know, the Danish stunner joins us. Apparently it’s 4am and everyone's gone home. I might have lost 4 hours of my memory but who gives a shit. I had won by default. We make out a little bit. She says she’s leaving but I’m too drunk to move. Literally, I feel like Di Caprio in the Wolf of Wall Street. I should have done this shit to get the lay:



Woulda, shoulda, coulda. A strange man's moonshine is not your friend people. Eventually the bar closes and I begin my long walk back to the hostel. As I approach the building, the stench of disappointment is quickly replaced with the delicious smell of freshly baked bread. As I approach the hostel, the complementary breakfast is being served. It's not sex, but it's close.

I walk inside, stinking of alcohol, my pupils are bigger than Rosie O’Donnell’s ass and the kitchen hand is staring at me with a look of disgust which I can only imagine is reserved for guys like Adolf Hitler, but I don’t care. I pile about 5 plain bread rolls onto my plate and begin to shovel them down like the degenerate that I am… All in all, it was a pretty good night.

As for Copenhagen itself, definitely not a long term city, but certainly worth a few days. From here, we head to Amsterdam, Paris and then Bangkok. More incoming.

Post: #19

Wait, what happened to mr. cockblock and did you asked him why he did that?

Post: #20

Good stuff..... don't leave us waiting so long for the next story.

Post: #21

Can't wait for the Paris stories. I know the place well, will be funny.

Post: #22

(10-29-2016 09:17 AM)Guile Wrote:  I down another delicious lager, and Mr. Muff Sniff decides to call it a night. Still recovering from the runs unfortunately. His night wasn’t over though. So the funny thing about Copenhagen, is the girls go to a pub, they all get hammered, then they ride their push bikes home. It’s actually pretty funny. If you pick up a girl, chances are you can hitch a ride home on her bike. The reason I say this, is to say that Muff Sniff’s night didn’t end when he left the pub. Some bird’s push bike had a problem with the gears, he volunteered to fix it, and he says he got a reward… Now I don't know the whole story. Perhaps he can fill in the blanks on this one?

Aha the problem was her chain kept falling off. I put it on, we peddle for 5 mins, the weight of the two of us fucks it up again. The whole time she's still lecturing me about how Tony Abott's climate change policies were destroying ice caps. I'm holding on for dear life behind her by her nips. 15 minutes in she confessed she was lost, had no idea where my hostel was. I mumbled barely coherently we should camp out in a park and use each other for warmth til sunrise when we could have a better idea of our bearings. Somehow she thought that was a good idea, we huddled together on a park bench, had a kiss and a cuddle, she gave me a wristy and all was well... Until my runs kicked in. Jogging what I thought was about a kilometre away, I squatted down and dropped three days of diarrhea coupled with 2 litres of Hooten. Turns out I hadn't jogged a kilometre, I'd stumbled three metres towards the nearest tree, turned my back to her and made my business. Suffice to stay she was gone before I even had my pants back up and I spent the next 3 hours stumbling about trying to find my way back to the hostel.

Post: #23

(10-30-2016 12:17 AM)LordMayorMuffSniff Wrote:  

(10-29-2016 09:17 AM)Guile Wrote:  I down another delicious lager, and Mr. Muff Sniff decides to call it a night. Still recovering from the runs unfortunately. His night wasn’t over though. So the funny thing about Copenhagen, is the girls go to a pub, they all get hammered, then they ride their push bikes home. It’s actually pretty funny. If you pick up a girl, chances are you can hitch a ride home on her bike. The reason I say this, is to say that Muff Sniff’s night didn’t end when he left the pub. Some bird’s push bike had a problem with the gears, he volunteered to fix it, and he says he got a reward… Now I don't know the whole story. Perhaps he can fill in the blanks on this one?

Aha the problem was her chain kept falling off. I put it on, we peddle for 5 mins, the weight of the two of us fucks it up again. The whole time she's still lecturing me about how Tony Abott's climate change policies were destroying ice caps. I'm holding on for dear life behind her by her nips. 15 minutes in she confessed she was lost, had no idea where my hostel was. I mumbled barely coherently we should camp out in a park and use each other for warmth til sunrise when we could have a better idea of our bearings. Somehow she thought that was a good idea, we huddled together on a park bench, had a kiss and a cuddle, she gave me a wristy and all was well... Until my runs kicked in. Jogging what I thought was about a kilometre away, I squatted down and dropped three days of diarrhea coupled with 2 litres of Hooten. Turns out I hadn't jogged a kilometre, I'd stumbled three metres towards the nearest tree, turned my back to her and made my business. Suffice to stay she was gone before I even had my pants back up and I spent the next 3 hours stumbling about trying to find my way back to the hostel.

You've got problems fella...

Post: #24

I see you like to drink while on molly, I too like to live dangerously.

Post: #25

(10-30-2016 04:50 AM)burncushlikewood Wrote:  I see you like to drink while on molly, I too like to live dangerously.

Mate, hand to God, I'd never taken the stuff, so I honestly had no idea it was a bad thing lol