The Birthday

The children’s playground. Two girls rush on clothes and lead a relentless, secular conversation.
“There has been no celebration for a long time,” said one thoughtfully. It is pity!
“I’m not sorry,” said the second.
Do you not like holidays?! to
I love it! very very! I have plenty of them, every day is a celebration!
It cannot be!
and maybe. We celebrate Birthday.
Birthday, you wanted to say.
We also celebrate birthdays, but rarely, only once a year. Birthday is every day. My father invented this celebration.
How do you celebrate it?
very simple! Dad wakes me and mom in the morning, we all run to the kitchen, take glasses of water and dad says a toast: “This is a great day today! We were very lucky with him! And we drink water, eat honey, and sing a song.
What if the day is bad?
So it was before. And once we started to celebrate this holiday, almost all days are either good or very good. Rarely happens something not very good.
Why do other people not have such a celebration?
Father said that everyone has this holiday, but not everyone notices it. Many have forgotten about this celebration. If you want, come to us on Saturday. You will spend the night and celebrate with us in the morning.

Gregory Berkovich

Imagine – Shoigu says – “Vote for me! Vote for me!”
And immediately shamefully adds: "If you choose, then I will give my mandate to some coward of our party."
He did not say the second phrase.

Two packs of smaller aromatic candles were drawn into the office. A colleague stands, smells and guesses what they smell.

I walked up, smelled and said, “Safran.” I smell the second: cotton. Everyone in the aquarium, the eyes are square, now recognized as an honorary perfumer

Then someone noticed that it was written on the packaging.

When I was still very young, and went to kindergarten, I liked one boy from the group. Let’s call him Slavik. I went to Slavik on his heels, showed signs of attention, served sweets, and he was in no way - zero and all. All and all. And here, one day I was fascinated with toys - I sit, I pick up the doll and then Slavik approaches me and says, say, let's play together!

Why haven’t you played with me before? Why did you come just now? I asked, looking in love at Slavik.

Everyone is gone, only you and I are left.

is logical. I didn’t talk to Slavik anymore.

From a conversation with a German friend (the case was in the Ural).

How about our nature? It is beautiful, yeah?

Yes, it is great. Even horrible. You can die here.

...??? to

- Here we in Germany in which direction do not go - over 5-10km village or city. There is nothing here hundreds of kilometers away. You can just go somewhere and die without coming!

A friend went to work as a governor to a banker. Family: a banker, his wife, three children. The acquaintance was a governor of the middle child, a small babysitter, an older one with tutors. The wife of the banker from the morning to the solariums, cosmetics, gymnastics, etc., still in the house a housewife and a cook were.

Known and telling. Once she told the wife of the banker, he said, for whom to marry, or we got married, now in the servant you have to work. The banker’s wife replied that he’t marry you. My friend insulted me, I was so beautiful when I was young. The wife of the banker - "just your dad wasn't the director of the factory, as I did."

So the slogan who taught what has a great continuation: "Who taught what, who married whom, who was born from whom..."

In connection with the end of the election season and going to meet the wishes of the workers, the Investigative Committee of Russia opened the witch hunting season.

Covered with a memo with an election poster of the governor of the Sverdlovsk region in the toilet (https://www.anekdot.ru/id/1250508/).

Apparently, it’s a long tradition of hanging pictures of politicians in the toilet. I am sinful too.
In the distant seventy, some year ago, I saw a magazine with an oval male portrait on the cover. And my inexperienced childhood brain instantly compared the size of the portrait to the lifted toilet seat: you go, one in one.
The portrait was immediately carved and spandored onto a dishwasher. I satisfactorily retreated and looked at my creation: in the framing of the raised seat it even looked stylish. Here it is necessary to clarify that the Soviet seats for toilets were not as they are now, made of plastic chemical colours, but pressed from natural slurry on DSP technology. The noble light brown color reminded me of the frame of the painting. In general, the child was happy - he created something beautiful for the first time; and who is depicted there and why it is in the toilet - the tenth matter. Actually, I had no idea who this man was, the aesthetics was more important. Four small black plastic legs gave the work a geometric finish.

My parents came back from work tonight.
The first person to visit the institution was his father and stared in the door: from the toilet seat, the Secretary-General of the CCP of the CPSU, Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev, looked at him wisely and with contempt. The father whispered, fell from the hiccups on the hiccups and popped to roast on the bed, forgetting to do his business. The mother looked around the installation and whispered, “And how can I push something out of myself when they look straight into my ass?” My father came out of the bedroom.
The bucket was immediately freed from foreign images. I was not even punished.

Much later, Gorbachev’s portrait appeared on the wall under the ceiling in the toilet. But this is a completely different story.

How nice to get out of the work computer after eight hours of work and finally sit down to rest at home!