Sometimes you sit in a hunting bush, in the taiga, to the nearest home 100 km. You decide on the satellite phone to check the mail, and there comes out the advertisement of the type “Real Dating. Larisa, 30 years old, is 400 meters from you.” And you scratch, for some reason you look out the window and check the doors on the door...

I go some warm evening by the Ryazansky Prospect. It is still light, and the headphones play an old good medium-heavy radio.

Meeting - two people, a little resembling the builders from "Our Rush", only without orange clothes.

I asked in a very bad Russian:

Where is the Skinhead Shop?

– to? ? to ? to

Strangely, strangers were not only not the target audience of the "skinhead-store", but also the active members of the opposing groups were not drawn by the composition and even the expression of the face.

Where is the skinhead store?

I shaken my head and said I don’t know. Where is the shirt? ! to The football club was, yes. To be straight? ! to

Only when I walked past that same store, I realized that they wanted just секонд хенд.

You have to be an idiot to give your country to a handful of oligarchs in the hope that they will all take care of it like their mother. They will care, of course, but only about their own ass. It is closer and closer.

From the bustling street to the right under the "brick" the jeep is well and confidently diving. In front of him, another owner of the 19th rubber flies out with the same bullshit. The street is narrow, but double. Therefore, they do not meet mouths, but die side by side. The “other owner” makes some gestures to the “confident jeep.” From the jeep, an angry clayton is distributed, the window is lowered, a cigarette is spilled out, and an angry lady appears with the face of Ranevskaya:
You are showing me here!!? to
The girl...
Outside, let me go by. He stood up here like a fucking buffer.
The girl there...
I told you... go out of here.
“Dumb,” the guy cried out, “there’s a brick.”
- Uherpich - already predictably in the rhythm respond to him - and now? Women generally give way everywhere, not taught in childhood? For the fool, I can hang you.
Go on, the guy is breaking up. The guy leaves.
- Yes, you have been there for a long time, and your legs have been hanging, the eagle of the room follows him.
The lady gases, exploding the wheels of the asphalt crumb, and crashes from the spot.

After fifty meters to meet her opened up, like an accordion in the hands of a professional, a white teeth smile, and waving with a stick-pick-up comes out the inspector.

I propose to amend the Bible and mention Putin in it.

Three hours ago. The youngest son is eight years old, and time to teach lessons. It is stupid:

I’m not going to teach these bad poems. And in English, and in Kazakh, and in Russian! “I hate school!”

An angry woman threatens him with a towel. The older brother comes in and says, “Wait, Mom. Let me talk to him.”

"Let's Senya do this: I learned the line - I give you 20 tenge (about 3 rubles). How many lines in a Kazakh poem?

The little boy’s tears immediately dried up. He thinks.

and eight!

“Look, you learned, you told me, and you have 160 tenge in your pocket.

Arsenie thought about it and added:

The Russian poem is bigger.

“That’s fine,” the older brother said, “do it!

The process went.

And I remember the first time I took my eldest son to dig potatoes. He was roughly the same age. Being on the field, he decided not to collect potatoes, arranging a small sabotage. I honestly do not remember how much I promised him, but the son began to collect so diligently that I barely had time to pour out the cage. He earned a decent amount.

The next day, speaking with a colleague, he talked about his method. The teacher of biology was terrified.

What are you doing! Which child do you want to be? The Targaryen? He will do everything for you only for money!

Nevertheless, the son grew up a decent man, knows the price of money and his labor.

My thoughts are interrupted by a small cry:

I have learned Kazakh!

The method still works.

has long been. 10 years ago. My wife went somehow for business, I sit at home, on the weekend, stick in the compass.

Half an hour later, the wife breaks into the apartment and suspiciously looks at me, runs around all the rooms, looks into the closets.

Sitting on the couch confused says:

I sit on the route. Nearby there is a girl, whispering on the phone:

Mmm, but where did you go? To the glory? Is his wife gone? — Oh, burn it up there.

When I got home I don’t remember.



He nodded his head: You run fast. has not arrived yet!



My wife did not go anywhere that day and watched my phone.

There is still Eva Green.

Who is Eva Green?

Have you seen the City of Sins? She is naked and smoking.

– No

And the dreamer? She is naked and smoking.

– No

And the cracks? She is naked and smoking.

– No

Home of strange children?

Is she still there too?? to

It’s a children’s movie, just smoking.