A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to a bar with friends for a weekend. They sat down, ate, listened to music and went out to smoke. And we have to say that the jackets we handed over to the closet, which is in the tambour, where the guards are standing.

Well, in fact, while I stood in the line, comes out of the bar madam in a state of moderate alcoholic intoxication. He walks toward me, bends to my ear and says:



- Young man, there, that is, in the toilet blurred



I thought at first that it was a claim to me, like I was blasting the whole gallon with the roots, and I answered something of the class, I am not me and the hut is not mine. However, she needed me to clean it myself or call a cleaner.

Only then did I catch that I was dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, like all the guards nearby. After my phrase that I am not working here, she, in my opinion, even turned red.



And it would be nothing if, after I told this story to my friends, I didn’t start to be notified about the state of all the sortings in the district, such as: “Friend, I’m calling you from the McDonald’s toilet, here everything is normal, it’s not blurred” or “Base, it’s Third, the point in the Zodiac Center is not removed.”

Clowns are not chosen, they are appointed.

I am standing on a spring night stop, waiting for a road trip.

The place is crowded, the center of the city, a lot of people, routes of all kinds too. People stand unorganized, who where, you do not know where.

Here my route approaches, but it stops, passing from me quite so forward. I chase her, and then from all sides to her and pulled an empty people, pretending to just wander in the streets.

As a result, while I drove to the road, there was already such a crowd of people. And all this crowd with me stands right in front of the car door.

I tried to move a little to the side to free the passage for the outgoing, but stood right in the puziko of the tall and thin uncle who had just arrived. I froze in place.

It was a disposition, a set, as they say now. So here is action.

The door opens and out of it comes a tall, beautiful young man of thirty years. He gives his hand to a charming young man in a leather mini jersey, with thin legs forever long and roughly the same red rose in his hand.

The girl carefully relying on the knight's hand (the spikes opened the curtain over the secret length of her legs), goes out, the knight turns to the car with his back to continue along the route.

And then he leaned his left side on me, confused in the bubble of a fat man standing next to me and trying to free the passage to an elegant and very beautiful couple.

“Yes, you’re here, you’re not here because of you, you’re here because of you. - commented a young man familiar with the rules of good tone, my location on the globe of his life.

With these words he calmly walked around me, for it is clear that I could not hide the entire horizon of such a beautiful man.

“How polite you are,” I told him. And she gave her hand and did not hurt me with a good word.

You got me, you got me, you got me! There was a pretty gentle man who was ready to hit me with his fists.

You are talking to your wife! I said, and quickly jumped into the road from sin away, confusing the words "Virgo" and "Woman" from fear.

So are you married? - I heard a shocked cry in the open door of the bus while another lady with the cats entered.

The door of the router was blocked, and I was able to see in the cabriolet's viewing window how an angry girl dropped a beautiful red rose on the educated face of the secret lover of the Adjutler from all the extent of her charming pen.

I didn’t want to, honestly.

If you are insulted, humiliated, beat the offender with a spade on the mouth!
Well Dad! I am a girl!
You can take a pink.

My son 4 years. We play chess with him. He’s playing pretty hard, but I’m losing. It is psychotic about that. Yesterday, the psychoanalyst said he would not play anymore.

“Let me walk with my left hand?” I was pleased. – I am pleased. I agreed. The naive fool.

He began to get serious. It is still in the clothes, but will soon be delivered a chair.

Last night was difficult for one forum. Where the supporters of the assignment to the female professions of various feminists sit tirelessly.
One of them said, as a veterinarian, I will never be. I love animals like my mother. I’m going to be a veterinarian. Or the zoology. Only so.
I became curious. I ask, what is the difference?
In many ways, he answers, but if you don’t understand the idea of complete equality, then you’re either a sexist with a prejudiced mindset, or you’re just stupid like a puppy.
Then I write to her, express yourself correctly.
I don’t understand, he responds.
Well, since you are for total equality, why offend someone in this way? It would be fair to give all living beings gender-appropriate names.
Let it be a corner. Cucumber and Cucumber too. And also touch, bed, turtles and turtles. Drunk again. Ullit, white, laurel, butterfly, pandas, zebras and panther.
And again, I apologize, the flies, the frogs and the antilopagus.
Here, the future zoologist for some reason, switching to a language more suitable for public services workers than representatives of her noble profession. Moreover, insulting, she called me exclusively feminists - a pascua, a creature and a fall.
On the paddle, I was already offended and, disconnected, went to cry in the pillow.

by robertyumen

Putin looks at Misha Galustyan with suspicion.

I am an orphan. My mother died when I was nine, my father when I was twelve. My whole childhood was offended to tears when my friends told me they were going to parks with my parents, spending time together, and I was sitting at home in the meantime under the care of an indifferent grandmother who said I wasn’t at home and she just needed help. I am 23 and got married. After the wedding they went to the husband's parents, and from the threshold she heard the joyful cry of the mother-in-law: "Misha, the daughter has come!" And hugged strongly. I cried, I was home.

It seems that freedom of speech in Russian is an opportunity to discuss, criticize and ironicly blaspheme the presidential elections in neighbouring states on a daily basis.

© Dmitry Sviridov

“My friends, I want to ask you this question. There is a family with minors living on the same street. There is no gas or light in the house. The children walk hungry, cold, and watch their parents not work and drink awkwardly. Where to seek help? The guardianship agency? Children are very sorry... Anonymous.”

I read this post and remembered my childhood. We also had such a family on the street, the mother was alcoholic, the father was lost somewhere, and the boy - Olegka, suffered because of this. On a physical and moral level. He was three years younger than I was, intelligent, energetic, played great chess, often with me winning, which brought me into a marked nervous state. He was raised by the entire neighborhood, each of the neighbors considered his duty to invite him home, to feed him, to sew if something broke, and sometimes to buy something new. And if his mother had a company for the evening, then someone must have gone and taken Olegka to sleep with him. No one has ever even thought about determining him somewhere in childhood, although I cannot say this 100%, I was still a boy.
In 1981, a storm washed away part of our village, many people died. A three-metre water shaft, intertwined with trees and stones, struck the village at night, when everyone was asleep, and our side of the street was severely affected. Of the fifteen houses on the spot, only two remained, the rest simply broke, broke and washed. Oleg died that year. I was not a witness to the element, was in the departure, but when I returned from the conversations, I realized that Oleg was trying to save his neighbors to the last, and as the survivors told him in several cases it succeeded, until he himself crushed the barrel. He was fifteen at the time and I think he considered everyone his family. What his fate would be in the childhood home, I do not want to guess.

What is the point of developing the Russian economy when it is possible to introduce criminal punishment for denying its greatness?

Here's what happens when your girlfriend leaves for a week: I found a delightful huge glass I've never seen; and I drank from it all week. When Carrie came home, I asked why we never used it; she replied, “It’s a flower vase.”

Good girl: earned a vacation, went to the sea. Bad girl: went to the sea - earned!

About the history of Notre Dame, sorry. It happened while studying in France. At that time, one of our co-workers bought their own socks. Take her and don’t come. To change for others herself somehow embarrassed and asked us to go together to the shopping center.
The delegation was headed by another of our counterparts, Yura, a former military, who spoke rather boycottedly in French. But since he taught him in service in Algeria, his French was what is called “Arabic.” Without any pronounce there, with its phonetic characteristics, a clear rotten letter r, etc. Sometimes the locals just didn’t understand it.
Nevertheless, he resolutely took the situation into his own hands and, upon arrival in the store, walked to the first box office, where he missed a low fat Frenchman:
“Kamrad,” Yura told him at once, “yeah, kamrad. Help us, comrade
The fat man squeezed a little from the comrade (he was unlikely to be a French communist) but, a little delayed, sneezed and then Jura issued the following phrase:
“Notre-Dame and the Ashton of Cologne. Il Fou Change, camarade
The box office is even more. Apparently he had never been asked to change God’s Mother’s pants before. In French, Notre-Dame (Mother of God) and Notre Dame (Our Lady) sound the same.
The Frenchman looked around on the sides, looked at Yura, then uncomfortable hickled and cautiously asked:
The Notre Dame? and money?
Yura shrugged his head and pointed to our fellow:
and Voila!
She changed her clothes without asking for a check. The cashier never stopped laughing, even when we were already leaving. Yuri, however, it did not bother and did not prevent him from holding his hand tightly to say goodbye.

by robertyumen

Russian TV channels will show the debate between Poroshenko and Zelensky.
What nice guys! And Ukrainian channels in 20 years have never dared to show Putin's debate.

I have a small workshop for repairing electrical tools. A man comes to me, bringing the perforator for repair. As usual, I recorded his phone and name.

How is your name?

and Vache. Through “a” and slit.

A man with humor.

Often medical tests say more about the future of a person than his personal horoscope.

It’s not my story, but it didn’t sound like it.

This happened in Soviet times.
The usual sanatorium of the Academy of Sciences, filled with staff of the middle hand - procedures, walks, gossip, in general, boredom is deadly. And then there was a rumor – an academic must come! The event! On the indicated day, curious people actually saw a car coming up from which a solid gray-haired man came out. and sympathetic. He was followed by an elderly woman, a woman. They went to the sanatorium to rest and be treated.
The wife of the celebrity constantly stirred around her husband, cared for him. He took all the care with tired kindness. And in the dining room they sat next to a cute young lady. The woman assessed the situation for a few days. He assessed and went to attack. After all, academic, this is such a chance, and why does he have such a silver old lady next to him? And gradually (the barbecue was literate and insidious) the novel began to bind. They are already walking together, and they are sitting on the benches, and so on,... in general, love is not a joke.
And when everything became clear, the wife could not withstand and went to find out the relationship with the invader. She just approached her and asked, very politely, “Please tell me, why do you want my husband?”
In response – a bunch of crazy phrases about love, freedom, fate, and so on.
The elderly woman said, “But you know, he’s a very sick man. He needs constant care, in addition, he must follow a strict diet, not every woman will withstand it.
The young woman rejoiced - it is not understandable that for the salary of an academic you can organize a great paid care, not necessarily at the same time turning into such a worried creature as her interlocutor.
The elderly lady looked at the young girl for a few seconds, and then calmly said, “I understand. But the fact is that the academic is me.”

Putin was upset by the price. For the 19th consecutive year...