Girl, can I meet you?

I am a lesbian.

No problem, I act like a grandmother.

The spacecraft flew and whispered with a hole in the left side.

Feminism in my community.

WARNING: Fasting can cause disgust to people (at least to a few human individuals).

The Student Companion. Block of several rooms with a total population of 20 people. Two common toilets without gender differences.

One of the toilets has not worked for a long time, the second (in which 20 people go) - in a terrible state, thanks to the life activities of both boys and girls (let's go without dirty details, although the evidence was sufficient).

I was tired of using the hose, and I decided to put the second toilet in order. I would know how I would be disappointed in people after that, no matter what I started.

Day one :

Asked the commander for permission to conduct works independently (tentatives to persuade the management to repair have long been recognized as meaningless). He walked around neighbors, expressed thoughts about repairing the toilet with his own efforts (to turn rubles at 50-100, buy everything necessary, repair and hang schedules of duty). The neighbors were divided into those who told them they had to go to the bathroom, and those who just stood on me.

Day two :

I removed the steppe from the card, bought everything I needed in the building store. He came, dressed things that were not unfortunate, and went to work. In the evening, I only had time to clean up the garbage, old pollution and other p***c accumulated over the years + scratched the rotten paint from the walls and grounded it before painting.

The Day 3:

I made sure that everything was dry, painted the walls, repaired a barrel, a chair and put a spinning machine on the door. After finishing work, I went into the shower and went to the girl with a nighting (the case was on Friday evening).

The Day 4:

I was not in communion.

Day of 5:

I came back on Sunday evening, went to the toilet, and I saw a picture: on the door of the toilet I had repaired, there was a large letter J, drawn with a marker, and failedly twisted loops with a small lock. On the door of the hoodie with the same marker is drawn the letter M (no lock on the door).

A little at this turn, he walked to the rooms, asked all the inhabitants to go out to the corridor for the assembly, where he raised the question, what, in fact, is happening here?! to

The answer literally changed my view of people I’ve known for years:

This is a women’s toilet.

From what to be?

We decided so.

Who are “we”?

Girls (8 out of 20 inhabitants)

How did you decide that? Who gave you that right?

Because we are girls! We’re not going to go to the same toilet with you pigs, you’re always bla bla bla...

And here it happened: in the next few minutes, the "girls" from a decent university were literally transformed in their eyes into some kind of evil puppets (mothers, insults, dirt). I just stood and cried: we do not know you for the first year, we live together, we learn together - where do you have so much shit, where does all this hatred come from?

After listening to the tirades about what "all the men" pigs and hates, some did not stand up and entered into a dispute with the bats. To be fair, I would say that some guys also behaved very disgustingly, saying, for example, that one of them should use a new impetus because he is a high school student or because he personally "never swept past the toilet."

There were even "riders" who stood up in defense of the girls (the guy of one of them and the guy who was in love with the other).

For the first 5 minutes, I tried to argue, then I just stood with my mouth open, and I thought, "What a herd you are..." In the end, I became so disgusted that, without thinking about the consequences, I quietly took the hammer and scattered back everything I had done before: broke down the lock, removed the spongyard, scratched the inside of the tank, destroyed the walls to the previous state - it was not enough to just throw the garbage and hang the corners to restore the old smell.

Do you think this story is over? If it were: on Monday, the “girls” knocked their fists at my door. Upon entering, they were delighted to announce that the commander was waiting for me "for a serious conversation."

I stood up and went to her office – the “girls” joyfully followed me, waiting for the execution. It turns out that as soon as Komenda came to work, they immediately wrote a complaint against me.

When he saw me, the commander nodded his head and asked to close the door. The neighbors stood next to me, chewing their hands joyfully.

For the next 10 minutes, with every word she literally rolled back my faith in normal people, because the object of her screams was not me, but my neighbors. Each wall has ears in the shelter, so Comenda knew the role of each of us in this story. It is hard to describe with what pleasure I listened to their miserable excuses to justify:

We are, but he is...

As a result, the comenda said that there was no repair at all, nobody broke anything, and the toilet was always in this condition. Now I am writing, scrolling through my head again and I understand how much she is an offgenic aunt.

Unfortunately, the aversion to the neighbors from this did not happen anywhere, and in the next two years of living together I was never able to print out a "hello" to any of these beautiful "girls".

The president can find the right words.
The simple replacement of the phrase “theft and corruption” with “degradation of the demographic situation” made it clear to all citizens the need to work for five more years.