Mousohranovo in Kemerovo region.
Did anyone read correctly from the first attempt?

XXX: It was in 1997. I came from military school to my parent’s home on my first vacation.

On the second or third day the phone rings. I am home alone. I raise the telephone: "A day-to-day twenty-first company of XXX students! “” At that end, a woman’s voice said, “Oh, gentlemen...” and they put the phone on.

I got married early at 21. On a very good girl, but after some time began to live with her somehow not very, then a son was born, and living with her became worse.



I drank endlessly on various occasions, and often without a reason.

"Look, Yulia's husband drives her three times a year abroad, and we only once were in Egypt.

- Natashkin's husband gave her a jeep, and you just bought me a fiesta.

- That you are constantly working, you are going to be at home, you need to spend more time with me.



I thought about divorce as if it was out of place. That would be good, of course, but it is all in some way. What people will think, the son is small again. How do I give up. The apartment and other properties are already in use.



Then I started having pressure. Specifically such a joke. And six years ago I went to the hospital, and I was hanged a device there to measure pulse, pressure and so on over the course of the day. And when I gave this device, the next day the doctor invited me to a conversation:



Meet me, this is my psychiatrist.

I am not crazy, I smiled.

“We are all a kind of psychic,” said the psychologist.

Did you have a scandal at home yesterday?

It’s okay, but why are you asking?

"Well, look, in the morning you went to work, the pressure and pulse is fine, and at 6 o'clock you went home?

- Yes

And it started. Look at the schedule. Pulse slaps, tachycardia, pressure 180/120 and so on to the night.



Then I told him everything. That I don’t want to go home because there’s a depressing atmosphere, that I’m the first volunteer for long journeys, that I prefer to go out to the production with a overnight stay to watch the tech process, though it’s not my turn. Because I am well there, and my home is bad.



He listened, left me and said:

I will be brief. If you want to live, you have to decide something for yourself. You either get divorced or you die. I am not joking. I will not advise you to go to a family psychologist and all that. Too many years you’ve been married, 14 years is not a joke. My advice to you, as a man to a man, and as a doctor to a patient. and divorce.



It caught me very well. He walked to the car like a lost man. There was no courage to divorce. I thought, I thought, I didn’t invent anything, because the tuffak is not brave in this regard. Even the thoughts were like this: it would be great if she had changed me, and then I would have accused her and divorced in full law. Tom is such a nonsense. But I did not have the courage to come and say. Well, I thought that this is my karma, and I will continue to live, and the doctor may be wrong and generally tolerate - fall in love and all that. It was so until a moment.



I bought furniture for a new apartment. There was a bunch of cardboard left in the corridor. I wanted to throw it out, but the wife said that her brother would come and take what was there in the garage to bed on the roof. This card is for a week. On Monday I have a plan, a meeting. The call, wife

I feel uncomfortable calling again.

What a meeting, listen to me!! When will you clean your card? Twenty times I told you, I just fell through it, broke my nail, you are a man or not, how much to endure?



I turned off the phone, something inside me seemed to be broken. I apologized and said I had to leave immediately. He sat in the car, came home, went to the bedroom, collected trousers, socks in the sports bag, put carabines in the blankets, took them into the car. He returned, took his jacket, more things, and took it back into the car. I returned and said that I would not live with her anymore and divorce. He left and did not return.



That night I slept on the office sofa. Then I rented the apartment, there was a week of depression, I was released from work, nobody touched me. Then he began to live slowly. After a while I realized I was alive. Fuck, I don’t exist, I live a full life! I have a great job, great prospects, I am still young, I am only 36, I am strong and healthy, I no longer have a headache! Let it go! I am living!



Then I started living with a good girl and bought a house. She lived with her in a new house. And what’s interesting: I don’t like traveling anymore, I don’t want to stay after work to work anymore, I want to go home. Home is the place where I feel comfortable and comfortable. Where there is a good person I want to come to soon. I stopped being afraid of my home, I became interested in living.



And once an adult already my son told me in secret:

Dad, that is the case. I don’t know how to tell you, but I must. It may not be right, but I respect your wife more than my mother.

I am an officer. And he asked him:

Why is that so, son?

I do not know. I think she loves me. And you too. She will never go with us. rightly?

It is true, son...



Do not be afraid to change your life. She is alone with us. If you don’t want to live your whole life with a person who “kills” you, divorce, it’s not at all painful.

In our youth, we make mistakes thoughtlessly and recklessly, but in old age, we are already professionally approached by the choice of mistakes to make.

I broke my coat last winter. Well, I think it was a copeic thing, I went to the atelier. In the atelier! Nothing in our city. I go in. Everything in hand-crafted shoes, the ceilings are high, everyone "hello" to you, smiles. The price of the question? Here you need to evaporate the lock, sew a new one. Somewhere two days. It will cost a half. I think what fate to experience, fucking you. Go to! She: Only the castle needs to be purchased separately, it is there. The castle is not included in the price. Okay well. I buy a house for 150 and I think. I’m cheaper at it! I go to a half-double who does not claim at the Atelier. I am charged 700 for everything. And then I remember how my coryphane praised an old Chinese man who does ALL! He shoots in the TC some corner under the ceiling. There some cleaning supplies were stored before, and then the greedy owner decided to give away these unfortunate square meters. I come, not counting on anything especially, take a jacket, a lock and hardly find this barbecue. I get stuck between the keys, some shoes, things... “Hello to you!” by GRU. Here is my trouble. He says, “We’ll change a dog and you’ll go.” I didn’t have time to open my mouth, he placed a flat-sleeve twice, a new one. “How much?” “The Seventy Five.” “How much?” Seventy five rubles. So, I made a slug. I have a wallet in my car. Could you take the castle? It is 150.” “Halloween!” He takes and stretches me. I said, “Leave it to yourself!” “No! I won’t take more,” and smiles... I went out with a jacket and a hundred in my pocket, smoked and thought for a long time. About what? Yes about everything! We Russians are just, honest, we will not abandon each other in trouble. All the other fools and fools.

“My worker was a wonderful man – he taught me how to work with a hand tool, gave me the basics of electrical engineering, and the door pen, which I finished on a timber machine, still stands on the door in the garden of my parents.
- And our sold on the market with our crafts, with cardboard:
Children with disabilities with mental retardation (

Once in the year edak in 2000 I had a computer on which, among other things, was the game Moorhuhn. My father never played anything but a preference on the compass, but this game caught him heavily. Since he worked like a cursed man, he played at night. And, being a person quite gambling and enthusiastic, well succeeded in this game, showing cool results (who remembers - there was not just a shot of chickens, there were also cunning combo that had to be found, taught and performed).



Accordingly, in the table of leaders (example from below) he was in the first place (I did not play chicken) and constantly fought himself with his own records.



So I decided to triple it (then there was not this word, but the essence of it was), set up ArtMoney, and after school, while my father is not there, I hacked this table with the program and added a little more points than my father's record, thus getting on the first line. My father was very surprised, sometimes angry, and at night tried to break my fake record. and beat. The next day it repeated again. and again.



My father’s hunting chickens I pumped well, but I’m still ashamed of this deception. I have never confessed to him so far. I think it will be the hardest confession in my life. This is the story.

A woman cannot be beaten, but she can be struck.

There will be a chain of invested stories, like in "Thousand and One Nights": the storyteller met the dervis, who gave him the story of a merchant, who knew one sailor, and already with the sailor something remarkable happened. But without that no.

Two years ago, in the spring of 2018, I went to the dentist. I live in Chicago, the teeth of a Russian dentist named Xenia. She, whilst crawling in my mouth, always tells me something interesting, and I support the conversation with whispering and ehecaning, with an open mouth you can’t say anything more valuable.

That time she told me about her other patient, Andy (the second link in the chain). Andy under 70, an ordinary American of the middle class. He had an old friend, apparently from school, from Argentina, some kind of Pedro or Pablo (third link).

This Pablo, like the Argentinian, was obsessed with football and took a vacation every four years and went to the world championship to get sick. The funds allowed, the family did not object because of the lack of one. This continued until 2006, when Pablo was diagnosed with cancer. Despite the loss of hair after chemistry and the loss of a number of insides after surgery, he felt pretty good and decided to go to Germany, but he was eager. And he called Andy.

For Andy, like for every decent American, there was only one football – the one with an oval ball. A socker is a nonsense that girls sometimes play. But this is the case, a friend of Pablo dies, asks for help, and also pays for everything. And Andy agreed.

They had a great time. We watched all the matches, drank a barrel of beer, broke the voices, sick for Argentina. When Argentina left, they fell sick for Portugal. Four years with enthusiasm remembered it, then went to South Africa, again together. Pablo was already in a wheelchair, but this did not prevent them from greatly falling into vuvuzeles, sick for Argentina and then for Spain. Andy even began to understand the rules and remember some of the players.

After South Africa, cancer still hit Pablo. He left a will, in which some amount was written off by Andy with a mandatory condition: to spend it on trips for all future World Cups. Andy travelled to Brazil alone. One was standing on the podium and crying when Argentina came to the final, imagining how happy Pablo would be.

When it became clear where the next World Cup will be held, Andy’s wife said that Brazil is Brazil, and she won’t let him go to Russia. Will go with him. Then their daughter said that they both went crazy, she will not let the two crazy old men into the wild country and goes too. Andy breathed and bought three sets of tickets instead of one. But when he looked at the cost of housing in Moscow and Peter during the championship, he realized that something had to be done, otherwise all of Pablo’s money would end right now and there would be nothing left for the next championship. In Brazil, such a shame was not even near.

Andy sought help from the only Russian he knew, his dentist, Xenia. In Moscow, she found him a room with her distant relatives, and Peter knew no one and asked if I didn't know anyone.I don't regret, I threw a request on Facebook, and immediately found a friend from Peter with a free room and almost free English, who for quite a moderate money agreed to accommodate Andy and his family.

Why I remembered all this. Yesterday I was treating my teeth again, and Xenia told me she had Andy recently. very happy. He had a grandson. The daughter’s parents were already worried that she would never get married and would never give them grandchildren. Luckily, she came out and gave it. Her husband is a Croatian, a little younger than her, a beautiful man. Where did we meet? Yes, in St. Petersburg, in the fan zone, and we met.

I think of this newborn boy. What a small world he lives in. In a world where a Croatian dad and an American mom met in Russia, where my mother came by the will of an Argentinian. And with the ma-a-alien participation of one Belarusian Jew, about whom this guy probably will never know.

Unlike British scientists, Irish scientists do not invent anything after they have invented whiskey.

As a child, my father always told me:

"Do not approach strangers on the street", "do not approach unfamiliar bags / bags", "company suspicious bypass side."



Thirty years later, I say to Bat:

No messages were sent to unknown numbers.

Do not download unknown files from the Internet.

“Do not open the door to suspicious people with miraculous advertisements, do not click on suspicious links.”

A friend of mine came to the parking lot to pick up the car. There is a bomb in it. When asked what you are doing here, the men who were sitting said wait, now we go.

The salon went through. Drive with the windows open at minus 30

Yyy: Did you drive with a bomji?)))

Friends told me.

One day, they left their 7-year-old boy in a car in a parking lot near the market, and went shopping. They return, and in the car sits a happy son with a wreath of chocolate and candy. It turned out, came some thread and exchanged a package of sweets for a new video recorder of his son.

Thus the younger generation became acquainted with the foundations of commodity-money relations.

I am a hearing disabled. At the time of the incident, I was not officially there, but I could already hear something wrong.



Third class, lesson of Russian language.

Hitman 94, to the board!

I go out, take the mel, I am preparing to write under dictatorship.

Read “Flying Mouse”

To write right?

Write it right!

Well, I wrote... Well, as I wrote, I wrote as I heard. And here on the board is the inscription: “Educating mouse.” Of course, the whole class laughed, the teacher immediately cried out, what was the case - there were no consequences. Were my classmates reminding me of this incident for a long time... Well, fuck, there is something to remember)

In the year 2007-2008, studying at the latest courses of the institute (physmatics, applied mathematics and informatics), decided to work in a advertising agency as a designer. A provincial town. I agreed with one IP-sniper that I will come after the institute and work for 4 hours in his advertising agency. No registration (first job, young and inexperienced). The money was agreed at 1000 rubles per week with payment on Friday. Well, for each successfully rented advertising banner 3x6 meters +500 rubles a prize.

The first week - worked, received 1000 rubles.

The second week is normal.

At the end of the third week, the question is, “What exactly did you do on Monday? And on Tuesday? How do you remember? What, have you been here? You don’t remember what you did, you don’t work, you have 500 rubles, come on Monday.”

Well, okay, I prepared, bought a notebook and pencil, started to record... A week later, the same question is asked, and I provide a report for every day, what I did specifically, I get my 1000...

The next week the boss prepared, and the questions went out of the category "And what did you do all 4 hours this small order? there is a maximum for an hour of work..." and so on the list of things and, as a result: "... here you have 500 rubles, and that is a lot, you did not work almost."

My move: I started recording the length of the time in the notebook and an explanation why this length). I got my 1000.

At the end of the next week instead of 1000 I get 500 and the argument "you colored and when printing on the canvas - spots"... At that job I had an old lamp monitor with a yellow colored screen... that is, the colors I chose on it not in the eye. Dark blue and black combined. Showed on the monitor the project of the advertising banner, explained the problem, which is not visible) And I bought a color jet printer (500 rubles not returned)! It relied on printing and watching if the colors did not change.

In general, to the notebook with the list of works and time began to apply a color print on the A4 of the project. A thousand rubles!

Apparently, it just went well and there was nothing to do with it, as the boss stated that he needed a designer for 8 hours a day, not for 4. I hired another student. And that was the last week I got 1000 rubles.

The next Friday, the boss stated that thanks to the fact that he hired a second designer, the work for each designer became 2 times less and from now on I will receive 500 rubles a week. It was a horse walk. He got two designers for 8 hours a day in the office and with the same cost (the new one was initially agreed to 500 a week).

I did not come up with a response (and I was tired) and told me that I would not go to work anymore, and I did not go out.

The boss was very angry and said that I would not find such a job anywhere else! I looked into the water. I did not find such work anymore.

You can sit down in girls, but you can't depend on them.

She lost her leg in the war. It was a vivid refutation of the sign that the projectilely does not hit the same wreck twice. It was in the wreck, where they and the wounded soldier were waiting for an artillery, they were covered.
But history is not about that.
One day, many years after the war, a postman brought a strange letter to his grandmother. It was strange that there was no address on the envelope. Only the name of the district and the name of the grandmother. But the back of the envelope was written with a chemical pencil, a hard male handwriting.
It was an appeal to the postman. And it started like this: “Dear Postman! Do not throw this letter. I don’t know the address, but I really need to find someone.” And then there were some details, according to which the letter found its address without error. Such were times.
The grandmother read the letter and told her that one of the wounded she pulled out of the battlefield was writing to her, and that she could not remember, because there were so many. And they were all on one face, in blood, dirt, pain, and fear. Better not to remember it at all.
In short, the letter went somewhere over time, and the envelope with the stamp of some ITU was still long rolled in the box of the commodity.
Then the grandmother did not.
And a year later, or maybe a little more, a strong, cheerful man knocked on our chest and cried out.
The owner, and not the respectable resident.
He named Babi’s name.
The father went out, greeted him, and replied that he said yes, lived here, but had moved for a year. He shrugged his hand towards the village guest.
It was as if the man had released the air. He sits on the bench, drops his hands in blue tattoos between his knees, and confusedly asks:
And what should I do now?
It was the same man whose envelope was long rolled in the box. Unlike his grandmother, he remembered everything very well. How she dragged him, the wounded, how they lay in the wreath for several hours waiting for the arthnalet, and how she stopped him all the time so that he didn’t lose consciousness. She spoke, she spoke, she spoke. She told about her life, about the village, about the remaining houses of two daughters, and about the fact that there is a roof in the house, which was just in the summer, when the war began, they were going to repair, so they didn't have time.
And this soldier, whether in a joke or seriously, or in a nonsense or in a word, swore to her that if they escape alive from this cursed wreck, then after the war he must come to her in the village, and repair the roof. Because there is no better master in repair roofs in the world than him.
But life turned in its own way. After the war, the man sat down once, then another, and went and went. But how strange his promise, given once to the nurse, remembered. Finally, he chose the time and came to repair her roof.
Here the man and his father looked at the roof at the same time, which was in perfect order, and the man asked again.
And what should I do now?
His father took him to the cemetery, where they drank, then returned home, and drank again, sitting in the garden under the old apple tree. They sang songs, argued about something, talked, and the man was constantly returning to his question – how could he now be? He made a promise. This thought sat with a nail in his head and did not let go.
Then the father laid him, already quite drunk, on the senoval, and in the morning he woke up, and said:
Let us go!
Where to?! to
Repair the roof. Are you going to repair the roof? Here is go.
He took him to our neighbor, grandmother Nastasia, a lonely old lady, whose husband did not return from the war, and the children they did not have. My grandmother’s roof has been repaired for a long time. Her father sometimes helped her in the neighborhood, but on the roof he had neither time nor strength. The roof is not a fence, a pair of nails will not cost.
The father brought the man to his grandmother Nastasia in the yard, pointed to the roof, and said.
Here is the roof. If you want, do, if you don’t want, go with the goddess. If anything, the tool there, what else needs, you will take everything from me.
And went away. The man remained.
For a month he probably lived with his grandmother Nastasia. He cleaned the roof, cleaned the well, fixed the fence, and already some of the neighbors, looking at the results of his work, came about something to negotiate with him.
But their plans were not meant to come true. Because a month later, a Canary woman came to the house of grandmother Nastasia with a local and a couple of operas from the city, and the local amusedly asked:
Did your grandmother repair the roof?
He acted. The man answered.
And a good guy! Then we went.
They put on the man handcuffs, placed him in a wreath, and took him in a known unknown direction. Probably somewhere he still had unpaid debts, or unfulfilled promises.

I had a dream: as if in the court summer of 2021, the world is bursting a pandemic of a new intestinal virus, and we all walk in diapers and discuss that in 2020 in masks was much better.

Xxx: When I became a tester, I was advised by my senior colleagues not to say "I can't", but to agree to the task and get rid of it. I still do that, the method works like a clock.

Yyy: Okay, I’ve been reworking this skill for 5 years.

Zzzz: Great, both at work.

Yyy: “One bad programmer creates two jobs.”

On the wave of posts about rural disco.

During his studies at the institute, after passing the summer session, he went to his grandmother in the village to help with the farm. The next night I decided to go to the club. At the approach meet local and the interrogation begins:

Who is? from where?

My grandmother, my grandmother, lives there.

And I am getting closer to the ring, the thing begins to smell fried. And here one says:

Let us bring him our own. And he poured me a glass to the edges of the stinking sameon.

I smelled his sleeve, his sleeve. He gives me an apple, and I say:

We don’t eat after the first glass.

Just look at the local.

The guys were great, but I never went to the club.