The preamble.

and injection. The Monday. 8:15 am in the morning. A couple of translations. A group of 13 people sit in a dark wait for 15 minutes, after which it will be possible to take off the pair and at least add to the coffee machine. At the minute, the 14th falls into a certain kind of uncondition (and simply some kind of subordinate), splashes on the chair and blissfully dies. The group begins to whisper and whisper. Prepodsha surrounds everyone with a dim sight and says:

Why are you laughing, right? Do you know how I spent my weekend? Through me 30 foreigners passed through the weekend!!! Can you imagine how my mouth hurts now?! to

The hard translators. =) is