Yyy: Overall, the bull will be under 1.75 meters long
XXX is 1.75? How do you want to use it?
YYY: No of course. This is a cosmetic item xDS
Any bullshit is a kind of cosmetic item, there is no dispute.
YYY: If you looked at the Lord of the Rings, then at the beginning there Sauron was about like that - the principle of the work of such a two-handed bulldozer - you will get away. But if you get there, it will hardly seem.
xxx : hm rule the face of many opponents at once... well, cosmetics in its pure form

You may remember that in the 80s, amalgam seals were popular in dentistry. Amalgam is an alloy of mercury with other metals. The Mercury, Carl The doctors kicked her straight into our teeth. Mercury in your mouth, Karl. The teenager Karl. And here on the battery for the watch I see the symbol -Hg! Don’t throw it in the rubbish!! You can’t go to rubbish, but you can. He studied chemistry, but had not heard of food mercury. Or am I a fool?

You are a fool and hardly studied chemistry, and if you studied, you did not learn. The poisoning occurs with vapors of mercury, and mercury orally - both entered the body and discharged.

I like to go to bed after work to set the clock at seven in the evening. The former guy didn’t like it very much, whether it was boring or envious, he woke me up constantly with the instruction that if you go to bed before sunset, the head will hurt. They separated in the autumn when the sun began to go down at six and the excuse ceased to work.

My good friend, Max, divorced his wife a couple of months ago. I could not withstand her constant jealousy and scandals with beating dishes. Well, the guy is prominent, educated, stylish. Yes, and the wife (the former) is not offended by appearance and intelligence, but on the ground of jealousy, the roof crashed at her.

And then the scandal, the divorce, the collection of suitcases, and she moves. In five years of living together in his apartment, of course, the neighbors were already all familiar. But here the neighbor, on the contrary, became generally like a native sister. for each other’s holidays. And just sit down, and if Max is on a business trip, then with a bottle of wine gradually flowing into vodka - so in general, a nice thing to spend together.

Shortly before the events of the move, Max's cousin, Light, returned from studying with Peter. He left the apartment and began to live peacefully.

Recently, Max was sent on a week trip, and he called Light with a request: "Light, let me live a week? Fish should be fed. And the castle has not changed yet, suddenly the former will come, so that nothing excessive will be taken." Said is done. Yes, light and not against living in brotherly horms.

Day three passed. Lightning comes out of the apartment, closes the door... Woke up after a while from the bumping on the face of the ambulance brigade. Pushovik cut off, sick wildly, and on the forehead with a marker a little so "Pushovik" is written...

The sick old man went upstairs and called an ambulance. Then I had to call the police. I called Max and he came back that night.

My first thought was about my ex-wife. But they are familiar with Light, and it is unlikely. We overlooked all possible options. But the police decided to visit his wife first. Everything was decided there.

The neighborhood girlfriend. At the first appearance of the Lightning (she was not acquainted with her) sounded an alarm and immediately made a check call. “You’re just beyond the threshold, and he’s already out – he gave the keys to his new grandmother! He is already sleeping on your bed. In your place! “...

As a result, it was decided that the neighbor will ask what lady there is and will make a photo of a new "passion". It is not about divorcing. Another divorce scandal. Well, and the neighbor decided to take the initiative and shouted out of the apartment of Svetka on the balde of the swabras. And then she cut her pantyhose, wrote on her face, went to the store and went with wine to Max's ex-wife, telling how she punished the mistress.

As a result, a complaint was made for causing heavy bodily damage. The light is shaking.

The neighbor said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know she was a sister. I hit to hit. What am I to blame for? I defended my friend’s honor. I do not admit guilt!”

Let’s be optimistic: 100 years ago things were much worse.

Recalled after the story about the police https://www.anekdot.ru/id/920149/
In the summer of 94, in the middle of the night, I came from Moscow; I went to VDNH for a TV, twice as cheap as us. Disembarked from the train at two o’clock at night, he headed home with a “pistolas” carrying the same TV.
After one and a half hours of public transportation, a machine with the "light" turned off runs, and mint comes out of it... A small one - a meter of sixty, if not less, thin. The features of the face are sharp, the eyes evil, sharp as nails - shorter, unpleasant type. And he begins to cede words, such as, what fucking Moscow, and the passport on the "box" - lying, and unpacking (and the box crumbled), and you bombed the store, and I am here. Wearing handcuffs? In the monkey house you sit at night, then you go home.
He, most importantly, was taken out of the car - like Serog, okay, well, let it go, fuck him and his TV... And Serogah is waving and pressing on. The situation was worsened by the fact that I was eighty-five meters tall and looked at him from above.
Finally, he rejoiced, threw my passport and television passports under his feet, knocked on the box with the TV (supposedly accidentally hitting my leg), got into the car and drove. I go on, blowing... blowing. Here is the bridge passed, one square passed, here is the second I go out, behind it my street...
Again overtaken the mentovskaya "Jiguli" - fucking, again! Almost in front of the house. It was just not enough - again to climb into the box for a passport on the TV, again to uncover the device and show it, again to dive on the TV, or still to catch up! The fucking...
Slowly and relentlessly, you can say, in parts, the car is taken out... As they called such in my childhood, "Uncle Misha" - such a huge man, two meters in height, the armor does not come together, short in the lap like a toy, the physium is calm-looking, even a little sleepy. See also. It is silent. Finally, “Where are you going?” Flegmatically so. I: “From Moscow, from VDNH. The TV goes. My house is in this street. I can show the passport," - "You are bombarded," - "Yes, I almost came, 50 meters are left." He stood up, thinking, “Well go. Good luck,” he drove in the same way in parts into the car, and she sat down and left. This is the whole conversation.
Nothing like special, but what are the types and contrasts, right?
I got there, the TV still works perfectly.

Do you want a revolution?! to
No, what are you! I want despotism, slavery, more corruption and 24-hour lies.

My cat was sitting on a lit candle. Now the whole house smells of burnt wool, and I need to remove the wax from his ass.

After another price hike, the family of the deputies for six months was pressed with black caviar

Remember the fun guys? Another magazine such was "Awesome Pictures", Samoedelkin, Neznajka, Buratino, Chipolino and others. The main thing was a pencil. In the 60s, a couple of cartoons were filmed about them.
And every time I look at the leading jury of KVN Ernst, I can't get rid of the feeling that on the screen in the image of Ernst the reincarnation of the pencil from the cartoon about the funny humans...

Homeopathy instead of physiology.

What is the way to make a tragedy out of it? And a housewife in the farm is needed, and the doll can be passed on to someone.
Here my acquaintance has a penis instead of a fallos grown - and nothing, alive, married recently.

I am looking for a suitable camera.
YYY: and why? I have a 10-year-old button bell, I don't know the sadness. I wish you did not know him. “I have thrown you down there, look at it (at night).” Leave iPhones to children after 1991 The real Indian makes his food with onions, not dynamite.
XXX: Why do you have a new button? Better an old good wiring, with a disk set! And then it starts: I dropped you the layout, see when you get to the comp. No one takes the phone, no one is at home. I’ll call you back if you really need it!

I and my girlfriend went corresponding, and I accidentally sent one of the messages to the chat of my swimming team. That means 19 people got my photo where I’m standing naked with everything I can see. Worst of all, I got more compliments from them than ever from my girlfriend.

I got into a small accident. No one was injured, and nothing would happen, but the man I entered was my father. Everyone thought he died eight years ago.

From the discussion of the post "How programmers are no longer allowed to do anything" on the Hebra:
Yes, just each of these “entrepreneurs”, “managers”, “marketologists” and other giftless and fat-eating people understands how insignificant he is compared to the average programmer. They try to move everybody. The abundance of engineering education, abstract thinking, extraordinary analytical abilities and the broadest horizon - all this allows the engineer to easily (compared to ordinary mortals) understand anything. We penetrate the essence of things with our sharp mind, but they are hostages of their countless misconceptions and cognitive distortions. Stop being embarrassed, acknowledge the obvious: we are better. Compared to us, they are like monkeys.
The Green Goblin said.
It exploded in the voice. I'll probably keep it in memory, I'll read it again in dark times :)

One day I was very interested in the lesson.

We talked about Rome. I adore Rome and consider it to be the peak of human civilization – so I was hot about how much we took from a great nation. As an example he cited Roman gestures and said that the Roman gesture is still used in school. Which? The students had trouble. I proposed to recall the gesture “I ask for words” and told how the Senate’s gesture turned into a hand-raise in schools.

Is this a Roman salute? One student asked me.
“Well, you,” I replied, “this is the Roman salute.

And showed it.

At this moment, as I stood in front of a class of ten with my hand spread, I had a lot of thoughts in my head — and all of them were about how I was wrong.

My wife and I went to the other end of the country for a swinger party where nobody thought we would know us. My parents thought the same.

There is no separate boiler in hell for bikers. There are just polite traits that cancel a trip to heaven precisely at the moment when it has just begun to grind to the opposite edge of the boiler, and there are ordinary ones who first do not take the tube for half an hour, then, when the time is left, they joyfully agree, and when he grinds through all the boiling resin to the other edge of the boiler, they turn off the phone and shut down before their nose.