The Star in Peter. From the country I was driving past, a couple of years ago, dirty, tired of the forest, the trunk of mushrooms, I am in a sweater old. I went to buy a pair of shirts. A dialogue with my grandmother:
What about T-shirts?
So much so much.
Is it so expensive?
- so good shirts, from Turkey, everyone takes no one complains. How many years ago did you buy this? You still wear it.
And I remember that I bought this coff in 2000 here on the star...
I have a companion who has been subjected to a strong educational influence from his parents throughout his life. Since childhood, he has been on a short leash and under sensitive supervision, hence hyperresponsibility, light infantilism and consequently problems with the opposite sex.
With the girls, a friend builds a relationship strictly remotely, sitting on a chair, with tea in his hands and a plate of pasta. In general, a real guru of dating sites.
Once, everything went so far that the lady agreed to a date.
Naturally, I was terribly curious about how they went, and the next day, after that date, I couldn’t stand and called.
To my surprise, he started his story without interest.
We met at the other end of the city. We go, we talk, we laugh. The weather is good, warm. She is a nice and kind girl, I wasn’t even ashamed. It was 20 minutes and my phone ringed.
The father almost screams at the phone: “Come home quickly! »
I naturally break up. I tell the girl that something happened and I need to go urgently. I say goodbye, I catch a taxi and go home, praying all gods that “nothing terrible.” Without waiting for the elevator, I run to the ninth floor, open the door and see my father. He has a trash bag in his hand. He tells me, “Why don’t you throw away your rubbish? »
Sometimes I envy people who can tell something wild, but at the same time in detail and still interesting.
I was driving with a man from the guard, he tells me.
I am a simple swindler. Once worked on the ISS (International Space Station), they call it, you need to make a crack. In terms of money, of course, it closed very well.
I live in a closed city, there is a secret object. At the entrance, military passes are checked, cars are inspected. In the city, in every house, the door with a secret code is checked by voice. If you do not live in this house, everyone will not let go.
Everyone is sitting and listening like small children with their mouths open, and the man tells them about the home phone.
The world is not without good people.
In the kitchen near the house some time ago began to sell cakes not entirely, but in pieces, in the eye - 1/6-1/8 of the whole cake.
And I decided I just had to try all the cakes in the range! And they, cockroaches, cakes make very delicious and the range is very large. There is not much left until evening, but if you go for lunch, your eyes run out.
In short, a couple of months I bought from them cakes by piece and, in the end, noticed that the jeans started to fit badly on me. By the way, are there lawyers to judge the cooker for getting fat? Only not those who work for money, but normal people, who will go to court without money? I think we need to judge for this case a million moral damages, then we will drink half.
So I realized it was time to go on a diet again.
I went to the same cooking today, already for dietary food - oatmeal, pearl and chicken. They also have a delicious snack! He has also been on her lately.
He went in, approached the window with the baking and the internal struggle began. I want a delicious cake, but so soon I will return to 106 kg again. It is not the matter! before the cakes.
Probably the look was so hungry that the woman next to me said:
Take a cake and I’ll pay.
I had a colleague who got everyone with different bikes. One of them was something like "to break a human skull, it takes a force of 24 kg per cm²". The wording is not accurate, but the essence is that in the process of discussion he settled and it turned out to be "24 cm". So came the nickname “Vlad 24cm”. That’s how it was recorded on my phone. I have changed my job, I sit in the kitchen, I eat lunch with new colleagues, the phone is in front of me and here this Vlad calls me. The faces of people who had time to see the name of the contact should have seen.)
When the country begins to be defended by ideologists, and the ideologists are appointed by debils and debils, then the country is definitely a shit.
My father fought no more than a year. I studied machine gun. He went into reconnaissance. I got the “courage.” One day, when he returned from the German rear, he was caught in a row. He survived but was disabled. My father spoke very little about the war. Probably trying to forget. I never went to any kind of celebrations, only meetings with fellow soldiers. Then it was time to listen to him.
One day in the early spring, a part of them, on another tired march on the snow, stood up in the basement. It was a suburb near the forest, on which the snow almost came down, and even flowers appeared. After eating, the soldiers were angry. The wind poem. The sun was so hell that everyone dropped the shines, and some - even gymnastes. Who lay right on the grass, who trembled, sitting in a circle, a few guys beat behind the snowmen. Everyone was relaxed and almost happy.
And suddenly the commander suddenly and frighteningly shouted, “Rota! No one move! This is order! They froze! Do not hold! They are all frozen!” He cried it for a long time until it reached everyone. They all fossilized.
Then he ordered everyone, without leaving the place, to look around, and look for the wires coming out of the ground. And then the father actually saw a small torch near him. From various sides it was, “I see! I see here!” Everyone knew that they were jumping mines. Slowly and carefully, one by one, step by step, the whole company went out to a safe place.
To whom I did not tell this, they were surprised how a hundred soldiers could unhinderedly settle on the mine field. After all, it was worth at least one "frog" to crush, as if they were all thrown to the ground, and the rest would explode. One of the incredible cases of fairy fortune, which many had in the war...
For some reason, I got a detail. The soldiers, who had plotted with heavy luggage a few hours before, went to collect flowers on their rest. They were really just boys. Young and careless. Yesterday’s schoolchildren, who went to battle, barricades, attacks, and bombings. to their wounds and deaths.
The court of officer's honor over lieutenant Rzhevsky, the mother of one of the girlfriends of the lieutenant:
“He’s my daughter there first, here’s Edak, and then there’s Razedak, that’s unacceptable!
Officers with friendly choir:
How is it right?
In the early 1990s, he taught martial arts to teenagers. It was very intentional, because it was relevant at the time. Once, during the training, a boy, probably 25-26, looked at us in the hall. A little thick, smiling, you can say I'll look at it, and I can do it. He stood in the room next to the students. He did not anything, it was such a character from Russian fairy tales, slightly formless and simple. No stretch or physics. Well, we came to the Sparrings. This guy stood uncertain, as if he was going to fall, seemed to be messy from the side, but then somehow strangely won. Then the elbow moves, then the leg and somehow uncomfortable, but his opponent fell. The strong guys fell. Okay well. Let me try it. Well, he got up uncomfortable again, with every blow I almost frightened off, pressing his head, and then the grandmother, to me comes an unhealthy such a stroke. Then again and again.
I ask, “How do you do this?"He said, 'I don't know myself, somehow I normalize, adjust and beat.'
After training, they met and later became friends. The guy never did anything, not even on his job, but he was an opera and the circle that day did - with his colleagues, he was looking for some bandit. And then he heard from his friends that one day he stood against three bandits, one of which had a gun, and with bare hands attacked all three.
And then I had the same feeling when you found out that the person you looked at from above was several times more perfect than you.
Definitely this is some sort of genetic memory from ancestors, the ability to fight even without any technique, at the level of the sixth sense. It is simply incomprehensible to me.