I am 5 years old, I mean. year of 93. I don't remember the time of year, but probably spring or autumn, because it wasn't cold, but it darkened early enough. I visited my grandmother, grandfather and father.



As usual in the morning, my grandfather and his boxing dog named Igor took me to the kindergarten. It was not so far away, but through the 4 strip road in the courtyards near the railway.

And here comes the evening, everyone is slowly dealing with my parents, and nobody follows me. At first I waited with the teacher in the group. Then the garden closed. She brought me out on the street, I remember sitting with her near a garden of colorful tires digged into the ground. I don’t know how long it was, but it was already dark. Suddenly I see the game. He ran after me. I don't know what the teacher was guided by, but she put my hand on Igar's necklace, said something like "hold fast and don't let go" and sent us home.

We came home in the dark. I and I, clinging to his necklace.



In short, my grandfather thought that my grandmother or father would take me and go to the country, my grandmother thought that my grandfather would take me, my father "left to Bukhara" and didn't think about anything. And Igar was let out for a walk, and he went to the garden, on the usual route that he walked every evening. So the dog was more responsible than the family.)



Once, as an adult, I asked my parents, "what fucking was it?" I replied, “Well, it did well” and no more commented.

We rested with a girl in the south, bought there an inflatable mattress. We took a break, took a break, it was time to go home. We started collecting suitcases and realized that the mattress is not needed because it is heavy and takes up a lot of space. We decided to give it for free, preferably for people with children. It would seem like a hideous task, but it is not! We started walking and offering our sailing, and we are all scratching! People have lost faith in humanity and honesty so much that nobody believed us, everyone thought it was a divorce. As a result, some as given to aunt who had 3 children, the happiness of the children had no limit. And the aunts even when we wished a good rest and said goodbye, looked at us with suspicion.

My family and I came back from Crimea a couple of years ago by car. The road is long, to the home is more than 2300 km, so my father and I replaced each other for the wheel, and at night, someone from the whole family did not sleep, so as not to leave the driver alone, or if little and he will fall asleep - the night road, it is such, to fall asleep behind the wheel is easier.



So it turned out that part of the night we and my father were asleep, and so that he did not fall asleep behind the wheel, I decided to tell him one story that I never told anyone.

Don’t laugh too loud to wake up others. Remember you gave me a long time ago, when I was small and we still didn’t have the internet, the computer disc encyclopedia “Kyril and Methodius”?

I remember it was like this.

In this encyclopedia was built an interpretative dictionary, that is, at that time I could find the definition of almost any word. Do you know what definition I found?

Hm, and what is it?

I found the definition of sex. And I will tell you now. Sex is a set of physical and psychological reactions, experiences and actions associated with the manifestation and satisfaction of sexual desire. I taught it, in case you and your mom ask if I know what it is. Then I would give you a definition and look at your amazed eyes. I remembered it all my life, probably twenty years ago, and you never asked me!



My dad was laughing.)

[My] Memories of Childhood Talk by Yumo

Here is one of the main merits of creativity: you can not be a worker and not work, but you can be a writer, even if no one reads you.

The Subjective Portrait =

There was an unpleasant story with me, two guys tried to bomb me at night for money. It was his fault, he returned home drunk. Half of them succeeded, but I also managed to record both peppers on the phone.
Immediately on the hot tracks called "our brave service", which is dangerous and difficult. While the "service" arrived very quickly, in just half an hour, these wounds, of course, fell.
I was taken to the department and received a testimony. They wrote a paper called "Direction to Subjective Portrait".
They explained that the photographer of the attackers could be made.
The next day I came to make a “subjective portrait.” Behind castles, turnikets, barracks, a girl sits with tired eyes.
About an hour, we and her in some police special "photoshop" mounted black and white photorobots of the bandits.
It turned out, of course, Ahung as realistic.
My video from the phone did not fit her (she said that blurred faces, and not quite in the profile). But, and so it was clear that she did not get it anywhere and she was not going to do anything.
Well, well, she continued to publish a cartel of criminals, which have already been illuminated in previous years, and note the numbers of those who are similar to these subjects. I sit down...
5 minutes, 10 minutes, half an hour... How did I know that there were about 6,000!
In short, in an hour and somewhere around the 4,000-ninth rose, I was just tired of looking at these criminals.
Moreover, it began to seem that all of them began to merge into one Swander’s face, which is just laughing at me now.
Thankfully, the subjective portrait girl’s working day has ended, and we decided to postpone the matter to the next day.
And in the evening of the same day, I decided on the computer to find out what are the facial recognition services. It turned out that the services existed, but have long been closed by the authorities. However, at least one still works (for money, of course).
What I will not say (I don’t want him to be covered).
I took the mouths of the bandits from my video from my phone, inserted them into the search and... voila! Literally immediately got the profiles of both guys in the social network. The networks! with names and surnames. One profile was very old, apparently the password was forgotten. Another is a little more fresh, but not visited for a long time.
It turned out - two acrobat brothers with the same surname, very similar to "Schwander".
The next day, I am pleased to rush to the girl for a “subjective portrait.” I take screenshots of accounts, surnames and even the phone of one of them.
She kills in the file of their FIOs and finds both "subjective portraits" (a couple of years ago they were already illuminated somewhere).
It would seem that this story should end with a hip-end. But not. We are no longer in the USSR.
The investigator exactly one month later sends a "refusal to initiate a criminal case".
Guess for what reason? He went to their address, but no one opened the door to him. The bandits were not identified. I now have the opportunity to appeal his actions to the prosecutor’s office. This is this!
I remembered another moment. I almost immediately asked that portrait artist girl, do they have facial recognition systems? Do you know what she answered? I watch a lot of fantastic movies, but in real life this is not the case.
All the curtains. Make the conclusions yourself.

Mom, I am on the internet.
VPN is out!

Laziness is difficult to overcome - it does not demonstratively resist.

The mysterious story that happened one night at Galic Station of the Northern Railway

This story was told to me one night by two ments in the line department of Galic Station of the Northern Railway.

How did I get to the department? I was delivered there by the brigade of the Novosibirsk-Moscow fast train. How did I get on the train? To be honest, I don’t remember anymore. I was driving somewhere. Youth is like that. Driving in the unknown. There are no tickets, we have to go.

And yet my crime consisted in the fact that I self-confidently sat down not in some stunned Khabarovsky, but in the Paphos Novosibirsk. Where the boss turned out to be some kind of sympathetic arrogance, with which we did not meet in the views of traditional human values, and as a result, I was not just thrown out in the middle of the night at the nearest station, but called out and handed over to local ments.

The menta, two young guys, brought me to duty, but instead of knocking on the kidneys and throwing in the monkey, they offered to share a modest menta dinner with them, and then we spent the middle of the day drinking tea, singing songs under the guitar, and chewing bikes.

Here is one of the stories told by these mentions.

Everyone knows that in the past on the Galic Station of the Northern Railway toilets type sortir, male and female, were in the open air, at different ends of platform No. 1. Where the first car stopped, there was a male car, and where the last one was a female car. And they were not some kind of scourgeons, but very monumental stone structures.

Now look at. The night is empty platform. And only at the beginning of her, just near the male toilet, waiting for the train to Moscow, stands a solid, well-dressed man. With two suitcases. No one else on the platform.

Suddenly, it is unclear where, next to the man comes a pleasant in all respects middle-aged lady, and typically moving from foot to foot confusedly pronounces:

“Sorry, you don’t look, there’s no one there?

And the kiwi on the men’s toilet, adds:

I'm afraid I won't be able to run for a woman. She explains it.

A man slightly touched by the spice of the moment goes to the toilet, faithfully bypasses it along the perimeter, staring into the cabins, and returns to the perron.

And there, to his surprise, he discovers that there is no lady on the perron, his suitcases - there is not too, but in their place in the light of the perron lights shines a medium-sized lawn.

But that was not what struck him the most.

This is an idiot!! He became upset later in the office. What fucking thing? What damn do I get into that toilet? I stood next to him for half an hour, and I absolutely know that there was no one there!!! to

----------------

Already at midnight, when I began to sneeze my nose, the mint put me to sleep in their rest room, and early in the morning they woke up, and put me on the first train going to Moscow. They just approached the brigadier and said that this guy should be taken to Moscow. and all.

P.S I’ve written it all right now, and I’ve thought – and which of the stories actually looks more incredible? About this "snowball" on the perron, which melted together with the suitcases, or about two unusual from the point of view of a simple butterfly? I do not even know.

But one thing I can say with certainty - I have never seen the "snowberry" in my eyes, for which I bought it and sold it, and the menta of these, (how many years have passed, thirty, forty?I remember like yesterday. Such things.

They bought the granddaughter a house for Barbie, brought home, unpacked, and there on the first floor already "Five".

We filmed three or four years ago with friends-colleagues “three” for three. Since my room was adjacent to the place of common gathering (the kitchen) and we worked alternately, I often woke up from an uncontrolled whistle. I had to get up and remind you of inappropriate behavior.

But one day they came to the end. I wake up from the fact that they light my face with a lamp and pull my shoulders, and the one who was less attached to his worthless life, even scratched my cheeks. Snooping from the light of the lamp and loudly flattering from unheard of boldness, I say about the following: “Sky! They quickly ran into the rooms. You are completely upset, fucking! If I get up, I will kill you!”

I open my eyes, and on me from all sides, with eyes the size of five ruble coins, interns of the gastrointestinal department of the Taganskaya hospital. “It’s a reaction to anesthesia,” a surgeon (a surgeon for feminism) found with smaller eyes.

The operation to remove the appendix was successful, I completely forgot about it.

Fu Fu Fu Fu Fu Fu Fu Fu. Sleep paralysis is the most unpleasant thing I have encountered lately. And just before his attack I dream of some nightmares that are projected into my bedroom while I am lying paralysed muscle.

bbb: I started cuddling from this attraction, and it doesn’t come back.

ccc: Because he understood that he was pleasing to you

DDD: Like men are shorter.

A normal state does not fight the poor, it fights poverty.

I have already told the story of three times before my nose trying to throw a pack of money (dollars) so that I could raise it, and so on. (Well, standard fraud of the 90s and early 2000s).
At the same time, I had not yet imagined (for the first time) that this was a fraud, but – my natural honesty did not allow me to “get on the pitch” of a rather primitive scheme, exploiting, mostly, the greed of the victim.
Recently told in the newspapers about another "improved" version of about the same fraud - already with the use of "high-tech", namely - ATMs.
When I read this, I stumbled on my head.
It turned out that a month ago I was also wanted to "divorce" on the "banking machine scheme", and I - again, as in the 90s, did not "buy", and the scammers washed, not salted.
It looked like this: a dark November evening, I want to take money out in the ATM on the first floor of the office building (there is free access from the street). The time is about 18:30, the main mass of office staff has long run away, so I am surprised that the row of two men to the Sberov ATM, and the first, quite small, takes the money off, I take the row for him, and the second for some reason immediately adjusts to the row behind my back, and his height is below 190, and he weighs 140 kilograms. Sometimes I don’t immediately feel very comfortable starting with such an impressive uncle behind my back in a separate room of a empty office building, and still in the dark hours of day.
Nevertheless, I need to withdraw 20 thousand rubles urgently to repay the debt, another ATM needs to be searched for another half an hour, so I heroically stand and wait for access to the promised click of the ATM.
A crazy man in front of me for a long time rapes a bankomat and finally runs out into a dark street.
I breathe with relief, move closer, and I see that the guy has not taken the money that is running out of the bankomat gap. The ATM at the same time with a human voice whispers that in 30 seconds the money will be squeezed back if it does not take it right now. The reflex works – I pick up the money and place it in the same ATM next to the adjacent horizontal surface. After that, in an attack of human love, I run out to the dark street and say, "Man! The money is yours!” Of course no one responds. I go back to the ATM, I see that wide-armed man who turns his gaze from me to money, from money to me. I say to him, "Now I'll give the money to the guard, he will then give the man when he guesses to come back." I would add that the money, by feeling (I did not count them) was a thousand-three-four, not more. Interestingly, I wonder why the man, having spent at least 10 minutes on raping the ATM, left without receiving his money, while escaping after all the torture "at the most pathetic moment", when the ATM feeds, flashes the bulbs and shows the message: "Receive your money!"
A wide-hearted man grabs the money, screams to me, “I’ll catch him now!“And he runs away. I easily get the 20,000 I need from my card and go home.
And only then, after reading in the newspaper about the scheme of this "divorce", I realized the whole danger of the situation.
If I put the money in my pocket (and I would still count them before this), the "dispersed owner" would instantly appear and say that there was not actually 3,000 rubles, but 23 or 33,000 rubles, respectively, I would owe 20-30 thousand or more, while the broader man "would confirm" that the money was much more, "and your fingerprints are on all banknotes, so we call the police."
As usual, the Russians are terribly afraid of dealing with the police, so that 20-30 thousand of each equipped guys would be virtually guaranteed. By the way, it is not the fact that behind the corner was not a feeding policeman (or just a partaker in a police shirt and with a lip shirt).
Gradually I realized with what details of my behavior I destroyed the fraudulent scheme:
1) I did not recalculate the money, and took a packet of banknotes for REBRO (my prints were almost impossible to find with all the desire)
2) Immediately put money not in the pocket, but outside the ATM.
2) After a second-and-a-half ran to catch the "victim" (which obviously could then be calculated by surveillance cameras - well, I understood it after a couple of days of reflection)
3) The commander immediately said of the desire to immediately give the money to the guard, i.e. Even the thought was not to leave money for yourself (“Eye, is it money, dear?”)
In short, people, be careful! (c) the

We built the world’s first cosmodrome that started landing earlier than launch.

It was long ago. We found somehow two puzzles, i.e. my brother and I, 8 kg. A cup of magnesium. It is now that children will look at the metal, shake their shoulders, and go further into the screens to smoke, and then the pioneers knew exactly what it could be used for. You have understood, right?



In general, having a virtually unlimited stock of precious metals, we began to consider less than our dignity to go to the courtyard, or even to school without a decent ammunition petard. And everything would be fine, but the daily stroke of the pepper with a dracula stitch began to be terribly stressful. The demands are growing, and the mosquitoes are also rubbing reluctance. The decision came suddenly, as always.



We matured in the closet of the worker, who in the evenings was carrying a circle of "young handle" disks and asked to use a day. At home, they put him in a stitching machine and, covering the vicinity of the machine with a film, in one evening they took all the straw on the stoves, not even sweating very much. And you can imagine how they look like 7.5 kg. The Magnesium? That’s almost an entire box from the TV. Our joy had no limits. We pulled the box into our secret headquarters on the roof and arranged production.



Our walks were always accompanied by canonade, the authority among the puzzles grew incredibly, and here again, suddenly, a thought was born, which played a fateful role. In other words, you can bark! It is said – done! Production went to the mass level, a prize order was prepared. A small petard of the class “chop!” It cost 5 cops. A medium-powered ammunition “Huyak!” and 10 cop. A heavy “delay!” A total of 25. More power to build did not become, because of the TB had notion. Business predictably took off, everything went fine, until one terrible day everything was covered with a magnesium snail.



One young dwarf used the most powerful of our products, and instead of throwing the source of increased danger away, he began to look stupidly at the smoke rising from the incense of PIZDIK. How fucking here!

Remember, I said that we had an idea about TB? This alone saved us from far more serious consequences than the suffocation of business and the blue ass. Dolboyeba was only slightly injured, his arm was quite heavy and the fucker was squeezed with blemishes from the explosion. Nevertheless, his parents arranged his interrogation with a bias and struck where he needed to go.



In the morning, we were struck straight from the classroom by the military (then they were in each school) and led us to the director, where we realized that we had PIZDIK. Among those present were:

1st Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly Strictly 1.

2nd Demonstratively holding for the belt and curvely smiling daddy - 1 piece.

Three Clothed Valerian and Validol class leader - 1 piece.

4 is The most terrible person is a real one.

5 is Strongly holding us for the ears of the aforementioned soldier - 1st.

6 is Local - 1st

After a cross-interrogation (we, as true pioneers, did not acknowledge the strategic residues of raw materials) we were discharged first on the urgently organized line and in the classes, and at home it became quite bad.



Did you see the baccarat? Our buttocks for a long time became the same saturated color, and only on the third day appeared green. Students from all over the school came to see them, and some parents led them to look at disobedient children in order to intimidate them.

For the demonstration of the blue ass, we took five kopecks per person, but this is a different story.



Such business was stifled, fucking... Author - StSoton.

I was taken by a colleague to the house, and the conversation for some reason went about his family.



My colleague here as a breakthrough - started complaining about his wife, said, without a reason jealous of every shirt, suspects of all mortals...



And he was very upset by the fact that his wife was upset by the fact that there was a neighbor’s phone number in his phone:

And I what? My neighbor and I had nothing. I slept once and that’s all.

By analogy with "your glow" and "your majesty", I propose to introduce an appeal to the figures from the party of the bigotry - "your bigotry".

I started to go to school in the damned Soviet times. In our first "B" there were 42 people, and the teacher somehow had the patience and authority to keep us all in touch. Then it was adopted that in the classroom cleaning (washing boards and floors) the children themselves - according to the schedule of duty, in pairs. I do not remember that it was somehow stressful, on the contrary, it was perceived rather as a pleasant variety, a glimpse: for example, before washing the board, we actively painted it. But then, of course, everything was cleaned up :-). But there was an understanding: if you "gaped" somewhere, then you will have to wash. The same drawings on the batches after increased rubbing with powder (during a couple of duty) no longer wanted to resume :).
Now the kids get stressed! You cannot force them to clean up the class – it is the exploitation of child labour. The cleaning of the class is on the shoulders of parents. The school is responsible for cleaning the hallways. And parents are free to decide on their own - either hire a cleaner or clean it themselves.
I chose the second option - after daily 10-12 hours at the computer, I wanted variety and cooling. Under the music and audiobook the cleaning went like by oil. And only one thought saddened: and how to explain to the children that it is necessary to respect the work of cleaners, if the children themselves do not feel what it is to clean up the garbage and dirt?

Arkasha had been fishing all day and had not caught anything.
On the way home, I went to a fish shop to buy a couple of carpets.
The Seller:
“Arkasha, your wife called me here and told me that today you caught a forel.

It was before to dig out another hole, and now it is called to sell housing at the stage of cutting.