I invited one night a classmate to prepare for the exam - well, the mountains of textbooks; wine - everything as it should be. She, in the measure of her inaccuracy, rubbed something in my hand with a glass of wine; of course, I poured it on my shirt =) Well "what do you do, what I will now go to the exam" and all this is a normal reaction on my part I consider! So she assured me that she would wash the shirt by hand, it would be removed and it would dry by morning; well, I am a confident man - let it wash by hand) In general, I wake up in the morning, she looks at me guilty;
She: Well I washed your shirt.
Is it dry?
Yes, it’s dry, that’s not the matter.
I: What is it?? to
“Your shirt is there on the table.
I am Hera.
Well, in general, I come to the kitchen; there really is an armor on the table) I ask - shit, what did you wash it in, blonde? She found me something white... thought of the washing powder.
In general, it turned out that she found starch somewhere in me.) And since there was nothing to wear.. I had to wear this Imperial Crusaders up with a violin =) In the subway they looked like a fool; in the barracks everyone scratched; but the exam passed well =)
by VoIodia