I've had a terrible Sunday losing a ton of money playing majors, and it's 4.30 in the morning and I don't really feel like writing the next part today. However there's one story I have written down that doesn't really fit the storyline and is totally irrelevant. I was going to post this in the end just for the fun of it, as if I ever end up writing the book I'm going to include this for sure. Maybe it'll come in handy that it's in this thread too, so I won't forget.
This was before I had gone to Australia, and before I found poker. I had been in a relationship with my first real girlfriend for almost a year, but we briefly broke up for a couple of weeks. At the time we were "on a break", and it's a sad fact that despite all the possibilities I didn't end up having sex with a single woman during this break. This was by far the closest to it I got, and they were lesbians, so it's fair to say I didn't get very close.
So, coincidentally the weeks we were on a break with my girlfriend also happened to be the weeks I was in Barcelona with my friend. I've been to Barcelona many times because of poker, but this was the first time I was in the city.
And this brings us to...
My lesbian fire extinguisher story
So, in the summer of 2006 we bought plane tickets to Barcelona with my best friend for a 10-day trip. It was pretty random, I think we bought them like a week before. This was the summer when Italy won the soccer world championchips and we were there at the time of the finals. Everyone was crazy about the soccer and there was a 24/7 party going on.
I think out of the 10 days there we got totally smashed on 8 or 9. We were so young at the time that we didn't even catch a hangover. We had a lot of fun nights there, but the lesbian fire extinguisher one was definitely the most interesting one.
So, we had been drinking in some kind of shopping center/night club complex near La Ramblas, the main street of Barcelona. It was exactly the kind of crowded place full of tourists where you shouldn't go unless you're trying to get laid. We were trying to get laid.
We had been drinking since morning and by the time we got there we were pretty drunk, so my memories from our time there are a bit blurry. I remember ordering absinthe, which the waiter set on fire, and I remember burning my eyebrows drinking the flaming stuff through a straw. This part didn't have anything to do with the fire extinguisher.
Anyway, fast forward to 4am when the place closed. I'm not sure what has happened, but I find myself alone walking down the stairs that lead to the street outside. My friend is sitting halfway with two decent-looking girls. They both look normal-sized and at least from my drunken blurryness I can't notice anything wrong with their faces either. I'm not sure where my friend found them from - he doesn't remember - but anyway I sat down to talk to them.
One of the girls, who turned out to be 20-year-old American exchange students, asked if we wanted to do bananas. I don't think either of us had ever done bananas prior to this, but we said yes anyway. These are the kinds of experiences you're supposed to get when you're young, right? Doing bananas in the middle of Barcelona with two girls from across the globe.
She rolled us joints and we started smoking in the middle of the stairs.
When I have just started smoking my first-ever joint, I hear a weird noise behind me and my neck starts hurting as if a thousand bees had just stung it. I turn around and see a Spanish security guy shooting us with a fire extinguisher. To this date I have no idea why he didn't for example ask us to toss the joints. I understand that they don't want us smoking in front of their club, but seriously, a fire extinguisher? He didn't speak any English and he didn't stop before we were covered in that white **** despite our screams. We both looked like we had been rolling in baking powder.
On the plus side, the girls were covered in the fire extinguisher powder too, and they wanted to take a shower. They invited us to join, and we were happy to. They said they live just a short walk away.
While we walked there I chatted up the girl who I thought was prettier. I think she told me where she's from and some normal stuff about her family and so on. I can't remember though. At this time, me and my best friend thought we were going to have a foursome for sure. They lived on the 4th floor, and I remember one of the girls gently touching my **** in the elevator through the pants.
They really seemed like normal girls. That's why we were so shocked when we saw their flat. I've never been to such a ****hole of a place in my life. It was dark. They didn't have any lamps, and they used flashlights to point us where to go. There were stolen bikes inside. There was human (at least I think it was human) **** on the floor. There were drug needles and used condoms. If you've seen Fight Club, this was kind of like the house where Jack lived. They had a couch that was full of cockroaches eating a rotten sandwich.
We didn't care about the house though, because as soon as we got in the girls started taking their clothes off. And when I say their, I mean each others', as they were passionately kissing each other and getting rid of their lingerie. One of the girls, the one I had been chatting to, turned out to be a bit chubby. I swear she looked rather skinny than chubby outside, but when we got in and she had her clothes taken off it's like an overweight tummy just appeared on her out of nowhere.
The girls moved on to the couch, ignoring the cockroaches. "Why are you still having your clothes on?", they yelled to us. We were like "yay, SCORE!", and quickly undressed ourselves. We both had condoms and we put them on. The girls started fingering each other on the couch and seemed ready for action. And JUST when we were about to start, we heard a door open behind us. There was another naked person. A guy.
We asked what was going on and covered our genitals with our hands. The girls said it was their roommate who was gay. We asked him to go away, but he refused to. The girls said that they had an agreement with the roommate, Jesper (I think he was Danish but I'm not sure). They bring home guys, and have sex with them on one condition - they have sex with Jesper too. We disagreed to, and they bluntly said "if you don't want to **** Jesper, you're not going to **** us either". Then they turned their attention back to each other and kept rubbing their genitals on the couch.
Jesper, who seemed to be a some kind of druggie - his eyes looked as if he'd been popping exctacy for a week straight and was just laughing by himself all the time not having a clue about the world around him - was very interested in our naked butts and started chasing us around the house. He was really skinny, not exactly the kind of guy who was going to rape either of us, but it was really chaotic and kind of scary anyway. The flat was totally dark (as it was located in some dark alley where the buildings were really close to each other, so there was basically no sunlight, and oddly they only had one window despite having three rooms), and there was no light anywhere as the flashlights had been turned off, and he was chasing us and we were running around. The floor was full of **** and drug needles so we tried to avoid them. Actually it's a miracle that neither of us hit any of the unwanted stuff.
Finally Jesper managed to chase me to a room with no exit. It seemed that he was determined to have some kind of action with me, which I refused to do. So he took a step towards me, and I took a side step at the same time, which led to him falling on his face. This is when I noticed he was REALLY skinny, he must have weighed like 40 kilos something, a total druggie. He would be of no danger. It also seemed that he was too out of his mind to get up, he just stayed lying on the floor laughing hysterically and stroking his own ****, so I just left him there and closed the door behind me.
I went back to the room where the girls were, along with my friend who was still naked watching them have sex with each other. They asked me where Jesper was, and I told them that he was trying to chase me and I semi-accidentally knocked him down, and that he's rolling on the floor laughing and is probably fine. The girls giggled and where like "oh, that's our Jesper" as if they were talking about a pet dog. I asked if they were suuuuuure we'd have to touch Jesper to enter the four-some with them, and they said yes. They told us they were lesbians and weren't really interested in any sex with males, but they did it occasionally because of their agreement with Jesper.
We watched the action for a while, but upon sobering up, realising they were actually not hot at all, and because of what the whole place stank of, we put on our clothes and left without saying goodbye. When we took the elevator and walked through the dark alley to the bright La Ramblas to catch the morning sun everything just seemed surreal. We looked at each other, started laughing hysterically, and remarked that *no one* is going to believe this story. We both got a massive rash from the fire extinguisher stuff (for those who don't know, it's basically full of really strong chemicals). Our skin was red and full of ugly pimples for two weeks after the trip, and we both had to take antibiotics for it. Because of this not only we didn't manage to get laid during the rest of our holiday, we missed out on the bikini girls back in Finland as well. But I still think it was worth it.
General note, and also a reply to DonEdison's post #158:
I have no pictures or anything to prove this story, except for my best friend's word, and he's a non-poker player so it's a bit of a dead end. This was before I got my first camera phone, and while I had a camera in Barcelona we never took it with us when we went drinking (as everyone knows, Barcelona is full of pickpockets). Everything else in this thread, apart from my results up to late 2008 because I didn't have any tracking programs, I can prove pretty easily as I've always had a ton of reputable people around me when all the crazy **** (of which about none has been posted yet) has happened.
As the people who've read all the entries know, I used to think that getting my blog as many hits as possible and appearing as a some kind of super interesting crazy degen hero was important, but my reasons for posting this all in public don't have anything to do with any of that. It's actually quite the opposite. I basically loathe the way I used to be, and it's taken me years to admit what an idiot I eventually became. The reason I'm making this thread is that for the first time I feel like I'm ready to tell my entire story. When I started posting on 2+2, I was still quite image conscious, and despite most people I talked to being people I hadn't even met I still didn't want them to think badly of me. So I didn't tell them about most of the stuff that had happened in my life.
What comes to Finnish people, my lowest points were widely publicized and most Finnish poker players have heard of them. I've also made a short post about them on 2+2, where I didn't share the backstory, but gave out the details regarding the dodgy stuff.
The past 1,5 years I've lived in a way of self-denial. When I hit the rock bottom in late 2009, and ended up owing people money and so on, I only knew that I had to make right of this all and did it. But I didn't really spend much time analyzing my own behaviour. I didn't really spend time thinking what I'd been thinking when I did this and that, how everything had felt like.
And you know, that's all that matters. All of us screw up sometimes, some more majorly than others, but it's your thoughts that really make who you are. And in order to grow as a person you need to do a lot of self-acceptance. My actions and intentions have been nothing but pure ever since my crashing, but I've still had the ghost of my past somewhere in the back of my mind that I haven't really come to terms with.
Now, thanks to a beautiful, balanced relationship, a great circle of friends and having had my life in great shape for a long time, I've finally come to terms with everything and it feels extremely therapeutic to share it all. I don't give a **** about attention, and for the first time I don't feel ashamed talking about anything regarding my past. I remember an example from as little as six months ago when someone asked something regarding my past and I got incredibly panicky. These days, I just don't care, and I mean that in a good way. I just feel that in order to entirely be free of my past I need to make it all public, and that's how I ended up posting this all.
Holy crap what a ramble, I would've written #8 in that time. Sorry.
Last edited by Chuck Bass; 08-21-2011 at 10:22 PM.
