In the first half of the nineties, while still a student, he went for a two-week internship in the French branch of AP "Novosti" in Paris. The money was about $50 to $60. Spending them on food at the time was stupid. I had to buy something for myself, mom, dad, sister, and so on. I took food from home. tk. To get something meaningful at the time became a problem, from the provision I had a few cans of sausage “The Great Wall”, a couple of pots of canned peanuts with carrots, pasta and sausages. And two more blocks of the Yavsky “Cosmos”. A normal, in principle, set for the student. But in Paris, with its smells of restaurants and bistro, eating the disgusting sausage was painful. One day I was fed by the wife of the head of the APN. A couple of times the journalists drank me beer with snacks. It was pleasure. At the end of the meal I had finished. On the day of departure, the APNovsky enterprise took me to the station and put me on the train. If I am not mistaken, it was a Moscow-Berlin-Moscow train, to which wagons clinged to Vienna, Copenhagen (through Rostock and ferry) and to Paris. In Berlin, these wagons were picked up and went on in the European trains. Завхоз handed me a paper bag with a dry patch on the way. There was a small sandwich on baguette, an egg, a bowl of pasta, cookies and chips. Almost all of this set I dropped before the train left. I went... One in the cup. France, Benelux, Germany and Poland. When we arrived in Warsaw, it was incredible. Parking was 2 o’clock. I collected my last cents and went to the city. He found a barrel and, pouring out that little thing on a plate, asked to give me something. The Polish recounted it all, thought about it and gave me a 0.33 bottle of lemonade. There was written “Drink Orange Mandarinka”. It’s been many years, and I remember that treacherous “Mandarinka.” When we got back in the boat, there were three of our boats already sitting there. Two men and a aunt. All the coupe was overwhelmed with balls and they were covered on the table. I hoped they would invite me. was invited. Very sensible people appeared. But of the snacks they had only Polish, somewhat salt, vodka and nuts. I quickly fell out of hunger. I woke up at night from hunger and silence. The train was waiting for the change of wheeled trucks to the Russian railway standard. I managed to get out of the wagon, although it was strictly forbidden, and I went wandering in search of food. I found a composition with tables Brest – Moscow. I found a restaurant car and started knocking into the closed door. 5 in the morning. Everyone slept there, of course. But after some time, a sleepy evil man came out of the car and asked - what... I need. I explained that I hadn’t eaten for two days and asked to sell me at least something. I had rubles. He brought me a bag with two banks of chickens, a quarter of black, a cold puddle in foil and lambs. Then I asked where the hungry people came from. I honestly said it was from Paris.

I was mainly raised by my grandmother. She gave me a lot – knowledge, skills, love and care. Sometimes this concern goes beyond the boundaries.



I went through everything – taking a shower, total control over everything. Learned to determine by the sound of the steps from the corridor that will now go to the bathroom, scratched from each invasion with the question "What are you doing there? Why so long?”



I did not have my room, but despite the narrow conditions, my grandmother still tried to create my own corner (to fence my corner with the closet) and until the age of 11, everything was still tolerable. and then :



I had my first personal diary. It was not personal for a long time. On my request, “Please stop reading!” The grandmother replied that it was for my benefit, said, the age is difficult, and she does not want to miss important moments in education, as she once missed with my mother (my mother gave me birth early).



I bought a computer at the age of 13. I kept an electronic diary. with a password. There was no limit to joy, until... "Give a password or you will not have access to the computer" "Do you not want to share?" “Do you want to follow in your mother’s footsteps?” At that point, of course, I started to like boys, but there was no serious romance and no talk. I could and would like to share experiences, but not to ruin my soul! The diary removed.



3) The Internet appeared and the apogee of the violation of my personal space was one event. There were holidays, I came home from the store and found my grandmother knocking on the buttons in the window of my ass. She passionately corresponded with my friends. After a grand hysteria "as a reconciliation," my grandmother gave me a comparative table of the qualities of my interlocutors. Based on this paper, Friend No. 1 was not respectful enough with me in correspondence, so it was decided to stop communicating with him. Friend No. 2 is in love, but too naive, so she "obsessed" him. And my girlfriend is not a friend to me and I generally envy her, ignoring her. It was painful. I remember crying and asking to leave me at least something of mine, in secret where she would not go, pushing her away when she tried to embrace me and calm me. We have never found consensus. Nevertheless, she continued to be my authority, my primary parent. My hygiene, my circle of communication, my books, my studies, my clothes were controlled. At some point, I even started to think that it was really necessary to "not give in to bad influence."



Unfortunately, in the following years and until my admission to the university, the situation only worsened. After her death, I found myself in an extremely broken state, with a bunch of complexes and fears. I gradually recovered, turned to specialists, I continue to work on myself.



Even if you really want to protect your child from the world’s evil and universal injustice, please do not arrange a dictate. Do not be for him the All-Seeing Eye from whom you want to escape.

On the way to the office, I went to the burger king for lunch. Give me, I think, soften my figure with such a harmful but delicious huge wopper, sometimes you can afford. I took the order, I sat down at the table and saw the picture: 2 tables from me placed 2 ladies, ages 12-15. One is sitting in Turkish, the other leg just put on the couch. Both in street shoes. The staff passes by – they’re out at all.

I was educated under communism. I even had time to be in October. If you can’t prevent it, at least make a comment. Dear ladies, I tell them, well, it would be unpleasant for you to sit on someone's dirty shoes. It is not good to care about others.

And this adorable creature, sitting on the couch, gets the phone directing me and speaks in a human voice, the general meaning of which is: Go to you uncle on... with your advice. And you will object - I will record on the phone that you are a perverse, stick to us and call home to yourself.

And here I stand, all of this, asking for forgiveness, as if I had been upset, and thinking: I will start to argue with them further – and indeed – then you will prove that you are not a perverse. And he went out to eat his burger on the veranda from sin. Would a man be healthy - he can at least go on a ride, well, or he will remember and think the next time. And what to do with such "spotted" teenagers who already know about their rights, but do not think about any duties. The fuck knows, the fuck knows.

It was 1981. There was a phone call in our apartment. My father Mikhail Davidovich opened the door and saw a man of "Caucasian nationality" in front of him. Dad was not surprised. He himself was an Armenian, and it could have been someone with a mail from Yerevan. Do you have mice? Asked a visitor with a strong accent. “I am Misha,” the father replied. Do you have mice? I am Misha! They could not understand each other for a long time until it became clear that the Caucasian was a sanepidem worker. station, which destroyed mice and covers in apartments. So he was not looking for a dad, but a mouse.

When travelling around life, it is important to turn on the naphygator in time.

Yesterday on boarding a plane, a man in a barrel is trying to bypass the line.
A woman with a child is ashamed of him.
- Man, here, by the way, all on landing, I and the child are standing, and you are trying to get ahead of everyone...
The voice of the crowd:
Let it go, it’s Alsa’s daughter!
Everyone laughed, even the man who tried to confront without a turn.
It seems that the mem "daughter of Alsu" - the biggest success that this singer has achieved.

It seems that the fact of having 12 billion in the Colonel of the FSB should not be scary. To be frightened must be that he did not have enough of that money to redeem himself from the one whom he saddened. Do you understand? For this man it is not money.

I told this story to my wife, her colleague at work. This colleague has a son who is studying in the 11th class. He practices karate and is a sporting figure. on behalf of this colleague.



Call from the class leader:

Imagine because of your son, two girls in the class fought. Talk to him somehow. He also takes attention from both signs, and the girls then dry on him.

I say to my husband:

Talk to your son! The teacher complains about him.

Husband to son:

And then Andrew! What happened there?

Yes to them, Dad! God knows what, and I know what.

The husband:

I am not about that! Why only two and not more? Shame on me!

I sit in the guests, time is late at night, I am coming out. Where to buy cigarettes on the road? My hospitable host says there is a store nearby, though it may already be closed. Okay, I think, anyway on the road, I’ll go.



The shop is open, I come in. Behind the shelf a nice saleswoman, sees me papyrus. I pay, I clean the package in my pocket, and I think I need to know the time of the store to tell the comrade.

What time do you work today? I ask thoughtfully.

“Oh, I’m late today,” the girl was upset, “but tomorrow I’ll finish early!

I continued to sneeze thoughtfully, smiled at the saleswoman, and with the bullet to hide the embarrassment, jumped out on the street. It was uncomfortable, but pleasant.