My father from a business trip brought a jeans pair, and she was small to me.But it was a jeans shit, he barely pressed and went to school. The legs like sticks, in the knees do not bend, the jacket barely stuck to all the buttons, but behaved like a tough corset. In short, I walked like that robot from Star Wars. And when it was necessary to sit down at the party, as the teacher said, a loud thunderstorm broke out in total silence. The pants broke in the ass. I don’t know why, but after that incident, I got the name Lisy.

When I was seven or eight, my uncle brought me a cool T-shirt from Poland. In the front was painted a spider-man performing some incredible culbit and shooting a web, and in the back in the whole back is depicted his head and the inscription "SPIDER-MAN". In those not very prosperous years, it was the most beautiful thing in my closet. At least I thought so. And here I decided to go out in this shirt to the street, so that everyone would be jealous and realize what I am dirty and careless. But here’s the disappointment... the shirt was the size, or even two more than I needed. Therefore, a vertical fold was constantly formed on the back, which covered the letter "S". Guess what word did these evil children call me in the courtyard?  (╥﹏╥)

A year in Russia.

All news is more funny than a joke.

I met in comments on the Internet:

Commander of part. The Colonel!! He sent KamAZ to the other end of the city to purchase two (!) cement bags, because there a cement bag is 50 rubles cheaper than here. The fact that solariums on this car run required the equivalent of seven bags of cement he did not take into account. Fighters have taken into account! Solarium was sold, bought here two bags of cement, the rest was drunk...This is the "savings".

Doctor, how can I cure it?
I will bite now.
Or maybe I myself?
Let us not self-medicate...