My wife is a primary school teacher, she tells me.
I show the children in the class how to draw an apple and pear.One student does not listen, turns.Then I ask the children to draw a pear.The one who was distracted asks me:"Irina Victoria, and how to draw a pear?"
I replied:"I didn’t need to be distracted, Cole, I told you everything".
I look, and this Kola hid under the batch.I walk, I look under the batch, and there Kola ticks his finger into the smartphone and says:"Okay, Google, how to draw a pear?"";

Our people, even if they wrote "Carefully grabbed," would still attack them. Just from curiosity.

About a man named “Misha-Catastrophe”. Those who recognize themselves should not be offended.
In ancient times, when the Internet has already appeared, and DSL is not yet, took (on the recommendation of a very large person) to work in one of the Moscow internet providers under the name of Misha as an assistant of the Aitishnikovs.

Misha’s skills were negative in all areas. That is, he not only did not cope with the assignments, but had the talent to perform the task so that after that it was necessary to eliminate the consequences of his activities, and entrust the work to someone else. If you add to this the initiative character, then a week later, the word "catastrophe" was attached to his name. But the person who recommended it could not say the word “no.” So Misha continued to work.
There were many episodes, I will tell you about the most epic.

One of the first strikes was on accounting. After replacing the cartridge, the laser printer said, “J-J-J-J!And then “U-U-U!“He swallowed the bulbs and covered the whole room with a thin layer of powder. Interiors, documents and other items are all small things. Remember what kind of toilets you used to go to work in the 1990s? What part of the salary was paid for? But a dozen angry ladies can defeat two or three divisions of the Wehrmacht... From death, Misha saved the deputy director personally, closing in his office, clearly remembering a very large man. The chief sysadmin then struggled with this printer for a long time and even called the manufacturer to understand how this could have happened. But it still remains a mystery.

The management made conclusions and moved Misha to another front of work.
In the other wing of the building successfully closed the next "Rog and Copy", giving up their furniture in a cheap way. The task of moving the one was entrusted to Misha, the good of the furniture was not heavy and for transportation was in the presence of a board with wheels, on which one person could quietly carry even a closet of medium-sized sizes.
But “peaceful” is not for the creative Misha.

Now imagine the picture: You are solid customers and came to a no less solid firm to sign a contract for a lot of money, and you are carried by the corridor with a decent speed with a steam car with crazy turning eyes, who first tries to change the trajectory of movement, pushing off the limbs from the walls, and then begins to move your hands with a scream: "Ly-y-y-y-y! Take a day off!! You understand that this is not a steam car, but a closet and a pair of tables on wheels, but nevertheless, you really want to be somewhere else now. There were no victims. The customers turned out to be proofful and managed to jump back. They drank coffee with cognac, the contract was signed, and Misha was given a chance to go.

At that time, many sectarians walked through the streets, entering the houses and offices, often very annoyingly annoying fellow citizens. Since the company was in a large (audience!) The office (the money) In the building, the mass of their visits was approximately like in the car service after the first ice. How they entered the building through the guard was unclear, otherwise than with the help of the gods to whom they prayed. They got all so that there was no more strength.

And one day, the director, passing through the main corridor, saw the following picture: Misha stood surrounded by seven or eight followers of the next "one-true-learning" and told them something very emotional, helping himself with his hands and feet. The audience circled him and caught every word. Some had their mouth opened, and they obviously forgot about the fact that they need to blink from time to time. Walking around this massover on the wall, the director caught a part of the target monologue: "...why did you get it? Nietzsche wrote about it. “Have you not read?” By the edge of the eye, the director for the first time in his life saw how a group of people literally a choir, very disciplined and synchronously negatively whipped their heads. “But here’s another example...” did not let them remember Misha. The director went on...

And then an idea was born in his head. Any provider has a customer support service, or in the bourgeois: "call center". The work is done in hell. You have to be nervous like the Dalai Lama. Hundreds of customers per day with a variety of questions. Moreover, 90% of them belong to the category of "simply talk", only the level of emotional boost varies... And the director made the only right decision. He managed a very successful Internet provider.

For many years, customers of this same provider could hear a young and vivid voice in the tube: "Good morning. My name is Michael. How can I make your life easier?” His colleagues loved him (and one of them gave him a son, and then two more daughters), because he could ruin the situation even with the most scandalous clients. And on really difficult technical issues, he switched to the second line of support.

There are no bad workers, there are workers not in their place.

No “ok Google” will be equal to “maaaaaaaam”!

xxx: Do you also hait when words in English are inserted into regular speech?
Tagged with: Nope
zzz: yeeap ))))

At the age of 20, I saw a man who was just an ideal husband and told him very convincingly and clearly that he would not divorce his obese and aged wife for anything. How, say, this can come to mind at all, this is the mother of my children, the man with whom I have lived so much, she was feeding my children with this swollen breast... They lived in different cities for three years at the time (although there was no stamp of divorce), and he told all this, lying naked in my bed.

Open the Family Code and read it. The man to whom you answered was right.
The father can be recorded from the words of the mother in the birth certificate of the child. And he will be a pope with all the consequent rights and duties if he does not protest his paternity.

What do you say? What if he doesn’t know that he suddenly became someone’s dad? Well, this is how - some Masha Ivanova went to the hospital, filed an application for the registration of the child, the father recorded Sergey Petrovich Ivanov. Clean from the ballad. Of course, she did not apply for alimony, because she will protest immediately if she learns about such a "gift". And then Sergey Ivanov dies, and here Masha Ivanova comes to the notary, waving the birth certificate of the child, and demands the inheritance due to the "child Ivanov". Who will contest this paternity? Especially if one of his relatives has a widow, and a genetic examination with blood relatives will no longer be carried out. Do not make nonsense. In the books of civil status records specifically indicate that the "father record" is made from the words of the mother, and only such a woman can obtain the status of a single mother with all the privileges. To do this, you need to obtain a certificate on Form 25. Of course, no obligations to her child is carried by any of the full family members of the "imaginary father".

Read instead of Mark Twain - Mark Twain
XXX: The Morning
Yyy: Everything is destroyed, not just Mark

This
Are there still holes somewhere, where cash is dragged by a postman without any protection, like a sub-incasator?
andquot;
The city of Chelyabinsk is a millionaire, but my grandmother is still retired by ordinary women in ordinary bags. Although for you, all that is behind the hole...

Years from now, 50 blood-powered smartphones and a personal lifetime number will be implanted in the back of the neck in the womb. And the legends about a phone that can be switched off or a dumb switch and nobody will find you, will seem like a good old fairy tale.

No one cancelled the foil.

J: Lucky cat, not trained, but the perfect stretch
S: Why do you have such a stretch? Drop the ass?
J is no. To shave her.

On Friday, at the end of the school week, I go on a bus, I sit in the front, from the edge, according to the ticket I bought. Drive for another 2 hours. According to the tradition, passing by some village, the driver stops, and drives the left passengers, cleaning the money to himself in his pocket. The bus is full and there are no free seats. A familiar character breaks into the salon - a fat grandmother with bags and a cart with a red evil face. He wants to give up his place, says the young man, stands. I show the ticket I bought in advance, I offer to show her my own. To my person fly standard curse and threats. Grandma stands up over me, protrudes a bubble, bends her hand in the elbow and hangs a bag on her. The package contains ice milk in a soft package. My grandmother drove this bag on my face, allegedly by chance. Please remove the package, replies "I am standing, I don't bother anyone, I don't like to get up alone, and I will sit." Silently I stretch out the jacket, and pull off the cardigan a bullshit from the eye. I send a stick to the grandmother’s bag and ask to remove it again. The face of the grandmother is distorted by the grimas of horror, the ridiculous look changes into a look full of despair and suffering. The grandmother’s mouth opens, and a scream comes out of it, “Good people, what is it doing! This shit did not give me a place, the foods want to ruin!" The grandmother found like-minded people, and a chorus of shouting voices joined her whisper. She suggested to the passengers, “Don’t be as bad as I am, give up a place.” Everyone was immediately interested in the unique October view from the window, and the grandmother came out at the stop.

>> I have to tell you. I am working as an admin.

>>Podi, also. i. fido got stuck?

It was a bit more difficult to organize. I still have the first node.

A friend wrote yesterday. His colleague at the end of the week was in Chelyabinsk on a business trip, lived in Radisson. On Thursday morning, he leaves the room, calls the elevator, he arrives, and in it - the idol of millions Sergey Shnurov. A colleague in deafening from the meeting with the star found nothing better than why to ask "In Peter drink?" To which he immediately received in response another quote in the performance of the author from the song "Drough" - "Hey fuck!"

I have two higher degrees - the first is purely practical, the second is obtained in the creative university rather for the soul (to not just write verses, but to know how it is done in science). There were both yesterday’s schoolchildren and adults with life experience.

So, a funny observation: the amateurs are curious about how women get everything on the hole, and men have to swallow, swallow, in the percentage of the most among the "creative" boys of the class "nothing heavier than a glass did not raise". Usually such immediately after school went to the creative university and slowly study there not the first decade, flying out and recovering, working in the intervals of some kind of decorative bring and give (officer in the bar, where the bohemian gathers, the third assistant of the second assistant on the filming site, etc.). Money is not concerned: either it is ideological poverty, who live with their mother and brother in a twin, wear pants bought for school graduation, and they are all arranged, or, on the contrary, the children of rich parents, or, as an option, the holders of wealthy dads / mommies. Others may think the same, they just have no time to reason.

My wife did not work. Years of 15. I did not let her myself. They earned more than well. But she has some superresponsibility and at any job, she was quickly invaded like a camel. In the end, neither in the evening nor in the weekend I had my wife as such. Pellets, ice cream vegetables, some pieces of meat, eternal fatigue, lack of mood. And that typically paid her very little.
At the end of the day, I said I needed that. The budget is common, the money has never been divided into mine. Now the year works 3/3, synecura and more, but I watch carefully so that there is no recurrence.)
Life is very multifaceted, crowded.
This is shit, little girl.

The eternal Hubble.
Well, this is the classic way of manipulating: to give fact A, then to give fact B, and much silence with such an appearance that their connection is so obvious that there is nothing to say here. The reader will feel uncomfortable and will find a correlation. And then he will defend this point of view as personal, because he is already emotionally attached to it.

I have two small children. Letter to an Unmarried Girlfriend
Q: Do you have that children sleep, that you are so actively rewriting?
YYY : No. Zhenya circles my penalty cow. She eats paper. A boring Tuesday.

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The Superman (Nem. Bermensch is a powerful creature that decided to go to bed earlier and went to bed earlier.