I live in a small town of Asha on the Urals the internet is very bad, especially mobile, so when I see the video - I slide, and when the pictures with the description then I close my eyes, I imagine the picture and if in my head is beautiful, I put a plus and slide further)

xxx: When I hear German, exactly two associations. Either they are fascists or they’re fucking... I’m not joking.



YYY: Similar associations I worked on a ship in a German crew, you know how scary it was every time...



Zzz: Especially when there are only men and no fascists in the crew.

Max: Hi, do you understand mathematics?

Oh yes Lena. Only after the CEC.

My friend is a surgeon, and once he told me, "I finished the operation, the relatives came, and he thinks, again now God will thank, and then they said, thank God, for giving the strength to the surgeon!" Surprisingly but pleasantly!

I remember as a child, my grandfather shaved with a dangerous shave without foam, but only soaking his face with water. Motivated by the fact that the soap dries him. Takahuli, 40 years ago there was no Davov and Palmoliwe.

And my mother tore his shave, sharpened his pencil to well draw a drawing for the universe. And in the morning, when the bathroom heard a loud, terrible voice: "Musa, fuck your mother!" Grandmother ran to reassure grandfather "not they, you will wake MarjPalnu," my mom quickly dropped into the room, and I fell out of our room with my mom and watched frightened as my grandfather nervously pulled his shaft on the belt that hanged in the bathroom for these purposes, then I knew that on this day my mom would be silk and affectionate, will try to come later than usual, the mouse would jump into the room and again took the shaft to sharpen the pencil.



Oh, it was so warm then, because I later learned that my grandfather had two shavers - one he shaved and hid it under the scarf, and the other kept a look for pens.

Only an unreasonable wife drives out her husband without looking for a new one in advance.

I read various stories here about corporativity, standards and other certifications, and I remembered my own.

So, at the very end of the nineties, your submissive servant works for the benefit of the worldwide McDonald’s corporation with the ordinary straw (a Russified straw from the crew member - a member of the brigade). By the way, only those who worked in Mac write "McDonald's" without a soft sign, a kind of acquired OCR.

But something I turned away. The life of the strawberries is simple and careless, work work, clean up in the course of work, and don't let God break any of the million standards. This is followed by dedicated managers, who were once as clever as you, but then became smarter, unlike you.

And here, finally, our main character appears - manager Dima (let's call him Dima, because it was). A man under two meters tall, scary like my life, mimic creates the feeling of a "evil valley" - it's when you see an android trying to pretend to be a human, but not very successful, because he's an android. In general, the clique "wood" was very accurate.

So, this Dima had in the tail and in the grip of everyone who at least somehow violated the standards. He fought with this and eradicated it with the anger of the Inquisition. Catch, it has been, a squeezed member of the brigade, who has not had time to take the cloth in his hands after many hours of intensity and a row that goes out with its tail on the street, and let him tell how non-corporatively he acts without clearing his workplace. Getting rid of Dima by a comment in a personal case was considered lucky.

How many people he fired, and how many he forced to fired, is unknown. But one day he was not himself. Yesterday he cut off the shelf, the kitchen and the facilities with his wooden nose, and today he is not there. If I say I’m looking for him, I’ll happen. Everyone breathed up relaxed.

But to you, dear reader, I just have to tell you, for what a story without a culmination.

The smoke was caught by the director when he once again pulled money out of the box to supposedly return the customer the amount of the lost / lost / cooled order. This is called "reimbursement", and in the simple accounting language "strictly". So, Dima for the shift managed to turn off dozens of orders in favor of non-existent customers, putting the money received in his pocket. By the way, not in vain then in the Mac was forbidden employees to have in their pocket at least a penny. But who their managers, will check. The smoke was still checked, because the cash report of his change always showed records on compensation. These are the big dates.

Since then, the rule “the more a person puts pressure on corporativity, the more likely it will be to rot” has never deceived me.

Lena, you forgot to paint!
Nothing terrible though.
It is you who thinks so...

During the scheduled examination, the doctor measured my pressure and battery, and it was elevated (160/100). Before that, it was only 120/80. She prescribed pills and ordered to measure pressure in the morning and evening. I rented a tonometer and honestly measured and recorded testimony for a week. Always around 120/80. I did not drink the pills, of course. A week later, her pressure was raised again. She said the only explanation is the so-called “white robe syndrome.” I have, in truth, another version: this doctor I liked very much, here is the increased pressure. By the way, I had 120/80 years later.

If you are not taught to extract knowledge from books, then on the Internet you have nothing to do.

My boyfriend is a fan of jumping on the train at the last minute. It delays critically everywhere and always, but without consequences, except for the sinking on the soil of others. We lived together for 2.5 years and I was tired of eternal nerves and looking at the clock. And even acquaintances are not-no, and they say that he has done well - with his wife, but not married. I decided that if he did not make an offer, he would run away. Minutes before the curants, he gets a box with a ring. I succeeded, the shit! I managed again...

It is impossible to watch the modern blue lights sober.

The drunk does not need blue lights at all - he is so amused.

Question: Why and for whom is this filmed?


© Police

Cock Serega on our steam ship did not tell his wife Lucy that he was a ship cook. The flowing "sea of overseas navigation" was quite pleasant to her and she did not show further curiosity.

Once, in the pre-New Year mess, the dispatcher port put our ship on the MorVoxal with almost free passage to the shore.

Seregina’s wife came to visit her husband on a steam boat, where she struck him nose to nose. He was in a high crimped cap and a cooking white jacket. Having seen her husband, Lucia was amazed, for a moment shakenly silent and, having translated the spirit, asked, "Do you know how to cook?"

A frightening new year!

The joke...

When Sochi taxi driver Garic took a late tourist to the airport and accidentally jumped out onto the Formula 1 track, he won the race and became the winner.

When asked by the correspondent, how did he do that?

I answered E! The Brother! I know the city better than these travellers!



One of my toasts on New Year's Eve was for Sochi taxi drivers and now I'll tell you why?

A week before the New Year, we and the company went to ski, but unfortunately there was very little snow there, two small tracks worked and after three minutes of descent had to stand in line for an hour.

Therefore, we decided not to sneeze and rest so to say for the soul, walk, swing and night favorite club.

Time flew unnoticed, friends stayed for another day and I for very urgent office affairs blood from my nose needed to leave on Sunday evening.

As always before departure we sat well waiting for a taxi and as I thought with the stock of time I went to Adler to the railway station.

Why then I was sure that the landing was from there, and I even called the time to friends but they said that tomorrow they are going on the same train but it leaves early for thirty minutes, but the thick whiskey dimmed the mind, the thick relaxing rest I didn’t give that importance.

The taxi driver brought where I said, wishing a happy journey went away.

I went up the top with my suitcase and a ski coat with ammunition and started to catch the train. It was 30 minutes before the departure but there was no train on the board.

As I went down to the second floor, I saw a group of taxi drivers to whom I went and asked where was the reference?

Brother, what do you need? We will tell you!

The train has to leave in twenty-eight minutes, but it doesn’t.

What is the train number?

Such is it!

Show me your ticket!

I have shown.

Brother, you have landed from Sochi, and your train has already gone!

I saw the lights of the last wagon.

To say that I was fooled, nothing to say!

The next morning I should meet the commission in person from Moscow and a bunch of meetings were also appointed where I should personally attend what I promised to the Chief when he shrugged my heart to let me rest.

The cold flooded on the back, the anus compressed so strongly that they could eat a break!

I realized I hit!

This is the end! I am fucking!

The despair on my face showed the depth of the ass I fell into, and all the taxi drivers looked at me with regret and compassion.

But then one young taxi driver offered to catch up with the train, the whole crowd stunned - E, Brother! You will not succeed!

But the boy quickly grabbed my skies and we ran to his minibus.

Already when we were throwing things in the luggage, another taxi driver, knowing where we were going, shouted that we would not have time anyway.

This is the wisdom, I thought.)

I must say that the taxi driver was a professional!

Taking the navigator the way to the station and time, it crashed with such a speed that I wandered a little!

He instructed me to call from the Sochi reference station and find out when the train is coming to them.

After five minutes of quarrelling with the electronic assistant, we found out how much the train costs.

The taxi driver in his mind threw the navigator data and the time for landing said that we can arrive at the Sochi station four minutes before departure and I will not be able to make the landing with inspection.

The despair on my face was so strong that he told me – Don’t worry! We will solve this problem! Go to Loa!

The light of hope shone again in my soul.

He immediately hit Loo’s navigator and told me to call the reference station again.

After another minute with the electronic assistant, I talked with the operator and learned that the train was going there for thirty-three minutes and thirteen minutes standing on the sidewalk.

A taxi driver drowned gas in the floor and we rushed out of Sochi!

The city was empty and we only stood for a minute at the lighthouse!

Then the serpentine began.

Here I remembered another joke about a taxi driver Rafic who on a serpentine in the night of two hundred pressed out the instruments and nervously stumbled.

I was afraid to remember mathematics and cursed myself that I studied this subject badly in school, trying to calculate looking at the navigator and time on the phone will succeed or not?

He laid the windshields, fortunately there were few cars, and here below we can see Loo's lights, but the taxi driver cooled my joy, saying that there would be another serpentine.

The anus began to shrink again, but now the settlement, it turned out that it was not Loo and Aqua Loo.

I said out loud that we probably won’t have time, but the guy’s phrase made me move again.

It is an honor for me that you will not be late.

And then I saw that we were going parallel to the train that came to the station and delighted him as a native.

But then the navigator began to point out that we went to the right and after two kilometers turned and approached the station from the right side.

I don’t listen to iron. Don’t worry, we’ll cross the road!

And here is the station, a guy running with my skies, and I with a suitcase in a ski jacket.

The race was another.

The last time I ran with my suitcase in London at the airport was when I was late on the plane.

During the check-up, the guy cried out that I was late and the guards opened the door with their hand indicating the direction.

After running out on the perron with skies and suitcases, I jumped across the paths and ran to the train, and my wagon was the last, but here I was ready to attack any wagon in order not to stay.

The conductors on the chain that it was late, which was very fun.

As I approached the wagon, I saw a fun guide who laughed and said that I should walk in peacefully as it was two minutes before departure.

And then the forces naturally left me, I could not lift the suitcase into the car, the feeling was such that I could not even pick up a drink, the body became cotton, as if a stranger and in my ears was a bell.

The men who smoked on the perron helped bring things in the coupe, I sat on the shelf and dumb began to watch the train depart from the perron.

Did my wife call me on the train?

Everything is normal, Sunshine! I’m on the train and I’m waiting for tea.

The conductor, seeing my condition, immediately brought tea, and only after that I realized that I was in the train and thanks to that unfamiliar guy I was able to get out of the ass I could get into.

Thank you my unknown friend, who once again showed that there are no out-of-the-out situations, and that for a real professional it is an honor that the passenger is not late!

So now I have a separate toast for Sochi taxi drivers! For real professionals!

Santa reads his wishes and cries:
I am your killer, right?

On the way home from work, I went to the store to buy chicken heads for my cat. And on the autopilot I ask the seller the question:

Do you have cat heads?

The answer was epic:

To feed the chicken?

My husband is running all the time. He lies – he drives, he drives – he drives, he eats – he drives, we walk – he drives. A hundred times said this is not normal. Recently agreed to have sex, he was lying in the neighboring room and waiting for me while I laid the baby. He lay down and what did he do? It is true, the curtain. I didn’t come to him, I just couldn’t. In my family it was not accepted, it was something personal, forbidden, considered disrespect and ignorance. I don’t want the child to repeat it. And he lies, wraps and is offended that I don’t come to fuck. Suga, what to do.

A society that survives the best of itself is unlearned.

I liked the story of Shura Baklazhanov from December 31 about a boy who donated his pocket money for a doll to his younger sister.

My son once surprised me. He was five years old when on the eve of the New Year he saw a huge box decorated with lights on the central square of the city for letters to Santa Claus. The son only learned to write then, but refused help - the letter was written by himself, sometimes only asking for unfamiliar letters. It took two hours for him to learn about half the alphabet. The condition of the contest was that the child must come up with and write a letter himself. I further explained to my son that Santa sees everything, knows everything, and does not read the letters written by his parents. I can only show how the letters are written, which I did with pleasure.

My son had no pocket money at the time. But I taught him the bill, naming all the prices when shopping, and announced him in advance how much I can spend on the New Year's gift to him personally, on the gifts to his mother, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, and so on - the total amount, and then let him choose what to give. He explained that this was my New Year’s gift for what he learned to count.

That year was fruitful for me, and in general I was happy that the son was growing up and the mind was awakening in him. Especially I did not cheat, but also realized that a lot of money is harmful to the psychic of a child. In general, determined a moderate amount, so that everyone would have enough for at least a small gift. Once you have learned to count to thousands, let yourself calculate how much to spend on a gift to yourself, and how much on loved ones. This is more interesting than counting some blueprints on trees from a textbook.

The son not only settled into the budget, choosing gifts for himself and everyone, but also left something for a gift to Santa! In his letter he wrote about this:

Everyone asks for gifts but no one gives you anything. I give

Of course, with a lot of spelling mistakes, but in that spirit. I almost slept when I read this. I packed it in a envelope and put it in a New Year’s Box. In a week, the central square of Vladivostok:
We announce the winner of our contest! The scene is called...
And then my son’s son! The host read his letter, burgeoning applause, and Santa Claus receives a gift, possibly the first in his life from those received in this role.