My friend told me a funny and even sad story. She married a classmate, such a quiet, kind and educated guy. In all matters, she is advised, she gives her salary, in the house she considers her the main, she loves incredibly, she blows the dust. But somehow he got tired of his right. She was confused with another – such a “true man” who seemed to be sharp, tough – and could get out of the room if it wasn’t for him (and it turned out later that he was also easy to get out of himself, before beating). She left her husband, and the depression began, the love of her whole life went away. He ran to psychologists, started drinking, and so on. She did not regret, finding in this proof of his weakness. She lived with the "true man" for three years, and endured everything, from beating to drunkarding, when he is dragged through the whole city drunk by a taxi, which he sees everything, and then in his pocket women's trousers will be found. He was a “strong man” who was not capable of anything. He could not hold on to a single job, after the first conflict with the chief (even because of the comment made) he "turned and left" (his favorite phrase). As a result, she, already pregnant, pulled the whole family, and as she gave birth (the husband did not even come to meet at the nursery), moved to her mother and filed for divorce. And after some time, she met her first husband, Alexey, who turned out to be socially strong, receives almost two hundred thousand. Well, she came to him - and there would happen a banal plot - or there rejected her, or, on the contrary, lived soul into soul. But he accepted, however, her life was not much better than before. First, the guy was convinced by psychologists and friends that he lost his wife because of his weak character, well, he began to tyrannize her when she returned, before the color of the wallpaper she could not choose (and previously disposed of the apartment as she wanted). She gives her money for little things, she is indifferent to the child from her second husband, and most importantly, she feels, the insult to her has never passed. Until they even signed up again, and she doesn't know where to go now - almost a thirty-year-old girl with a trailer... And you don't say that someone else is to blame, she has built her life. Be afraid of your wishes, butterflies!

If the Internet is closed in the Russian Federation, how will the scientists of Skolkovo order their latest developments on AliExpress?

Nothing motivates irresponsibility as impunity guaranteed by the state.

Recently my son tells me that he hears some voices at night. I did not believe. When I slept in his room at night, I almost sat down. Chinese races in a toy box caught a taxi driver.

The country needs tokers, engineers and scientists, and women give birth to bloggers, realtors and photographers.

Sex once a week is better than onanism every day.

Paapa, let’s go play.
Now, my daughter, I will wash my dishes and go play.
is not. to play.
Can you keep secrets?
I am interested *
Every adult knows one secret. Don’t tell the kids about it...you want to know which one?
and Kiwa
Adults have no business. We are always playing. When we like to play, we call it rest. When we get tired of the game, we call it work. When we are paid for a game, we call it work. And now I’m going to play “make your dishes clean.” Will you help me?
and yes!! to

Some positions are only transmitted sexually.

In the bedroom with his wife found a painting with a pen on the wallpaper. Since the daughter was 12 years old, the suspicion fell on the 5-year-old son. We call them two into the bedroom, when asked who did, the daughter naturally says: not me!

Small, looking at her, also goes to rejection, type not at all in business...

Two or three questions were not able to "split" the partisan.

Here the wife says, and what do we do with this cockroach on the wall?

Son: (with an insult in the voice) This is a robot at all! Oh...

I loaded up in the train, there were already two middle-aged men, a fourth passenger, a girl with a three-and-a-half-year-old boy, pulled in a couple of minutes. The boy was crying and his mother hugged him. Yes, I thought, I was not lucky. Well, sometimes, mothers with small children also have to go somewhere. For such occasions, I have headphones and relaxing music. Once I was driving in a couch with a baby, so I slept all night under Enigma.

And here is our shop - on the upper shelves of men, on the lower I and a girl with a child. But here the door of the coupe opens and enters exactly the same girl, the sister twin of our passenger and also with a small child. Probably they couldn’t get tickets in one coupe. The girls sit in front of me and start to talk, the children whisper and sneeze, the moms do not pay attention to them, only from time to time they write out the children's backbones... In general, the buttocks. Then a genius thought came to my mind.

Girl, and let me change places with you, you are not comfortable going in different coupe? I am talking to the twins.

Oh, but I have the upper shelf there, and you have the lower, she answers.

About this nothing, I love the upper shelves - I answered with enthusiasm (it's true, you roll to your own pleasure, no one breaks your egg shell on your head, just when you bought a ticket were only the lower ones). I gladly picked up my bag. Oh yes! I thought it was a combo. I did a good deed, helped my mother with the child and with tangible benefit for myself! My enthusiasm was somewhat eased, the heavy, burning with untransmitted emotions look of men – Ъуъ sūka, read in their eyes...In the new coupe was an elderly family couple and a guy, should we say how they were happy with my appearance)

The man is hysterical, the telephone does not show. After the rounds of emotions, oret.

In short, and so the technician tries to help him and etak, nifiga. The technician says:

Look at the plate.

Man to him:

It is on my tree.

No matter, look at her.

Q. Where is the tree? ! to

In short, the management company ordered and spilt the tree with its plate and took everything away.

A good person becomes after getting used to his shortcomings.

My grandfather Semen was a wanderkind when he was a child. It is clear that in a distant Siberian village did not know a word of this, but the child, reading the Bible by the nose and composing six-digit numbers in his mind, surprised everyone. Travelling merchants, checking the boy, lost the boy's father a considerable amount. The wealthy worshipped, worshipped and took the seeds with them into the city.
Ten years later, the boy returned with a bunch of books and notebooks. At that time, he was already a student at the seminar. The parents, illiterate peasants, watched their son with horror, not coming out of the readhouse.
The customs were then simple: it was decided that the guy would marry, so that he would not go crazy for books. Marry so that you don’t get rid of it.
Semen comes home, and there, blinking the eyes, the bride, Avdotia, is already sitting.
Now about the grandmother. She was beautiful. But this is why such a prominent bride until the age of 24 was in girls, no one will tell me, but I think so because of the character. Grandma was very nice. Because of this hereditary family norov my father suffered, and our sister and husbands remember the grandmother with a bad word, although the term of her was not seen.
She looked at the bride and disappeared. Where the 18-year-old boy was to resist the brown eyes with a rope, and a high chest.
He left his grandfather at the seminary, and became a simple baker, but he did not abandon the books. His exalted soul demanded a way out. He repeated poems, songs, prayers and even in the most forbidden years he sang in the church choir.
The family grew, children were born, 12 daughters! Semen and Avdotia worked without laying hands. In the 30s, they already had a strong farm, horses, cows, sheep, gardens.
My mother remembered that when they went to bed, her father was still at work, and when they got up in the morning, her father was already at work.
In the collectivization, the grandfather was crushed, loaded with a gun with the children on a cart and sent to the taiga near Tomsk. Of the 12 children, only four survived.
The powerful and working grandfather Semen did not disappear and in the exile, he began to mow skin and make sheep. He planted a crying wife and girls for the sewing of shoes, so they ate.
Slowly began to survive. But a new trouble arose.
I had already said that grandmother Avdotia was a beauty, but her eldest daughter Matrina surpassed her mother in beauty. I didn’t know Aunt Moth as a young, only an old old lady. But, it used to be, the lips will be painted, the proud look will be thrown from beneath the shoulder eyebrows - the outstretched Bystritskaya, not worse!
The empty guys blinked their eyes at grandfather's bump, looked out at Matrina, but the local chairman of the colloquium acted in his own way: while the grandfather was not in the village, he pulled out the backward girl and locked up with her in his house. What to celebrate with them.
Matthew returned home pale but calm. She said that the chairman promised to put her on an easy job and to make relief to the family, to correct the documents. Then she grabbed her younger sisters and cried.
Always gentle and kind grandfather Semen grabbed the knife. But his wife and children hanged on him and stopped him.
That same night, with the children and the embarrassed daughter, Semen left the settlement through the taiga.
My mother remembered that they were walking, spending the night on loans, making fires. Grandfather hunted, caught fish, mocked, cold, but stubbornly led his family.
They came out of Taiga in a distant country, and settled there.
The second grandfather's daughter, Catherine, married out of great love. My mother once said, “Oh, and beautiful these Kazan Tatars!” There are no photos of the son-in-law, but I believe the mother's word: apparently there was a couple.
In the Great Patriotic Husband and Matren and Catherine went to war. Both did not return, they died at Stalingrad.
In these difficult years, women worked in forestry, small children had to be left home alone. In the summer drought, Katie's house burned, and her four-year-old son walked out the window and ran through the forest to his mother. Only a bloody shirt from him is left – wolves.
Katya touched her mind and was taken to the hospital.
Grandfather Semen walked through the ashes without a hat, tears flowed on his face. He decided to build a new home for his daughter.
For three months, the sixty-year-old tossed bars, raised bars, and laid walls. All alone, all alone. I laid the floor, put the doors.
I remember this house: a tiny kitchen and a room, shiny. The courtyard is paved. In this house my aunt lived all her life and the house did not crumble, no donkey. The masterpiece was Grandfather Semen.
In the last way, the grandfather was accompanied by the whole village, crossed his mushroom hands on the chest, placed with him his seminary Bible, on the forehead a sacred tape - the road to heaven.
And where else could he go, this great worker, the cradle and the land of our country. Not broken, not humiliated, not melted. Persistently reborn like a bird Phoenix from the ashes, not betraying his beliefs, his faith.
We are talking about the winners of the Great Patriotic War. His courage and sacrifice. But they were raised and raised such seeds. They put their sons on the wing and they flew up to the feat.

How is my order?
Not finished yet.
At what stage are you?
We will soon start.

Recently my son tells me that he hears some voices at night. I did not believe. When I slept in his room at night, I almost sat down. Raids from China in a toy box caught a taxi driver.

The rating of the insurance company is the higher the less losses, that is, the more it shoes, the better it is considered.

The Invisible Soldier

My father was born in Crimea. After the revolution, when the Joint Society helped the orphans survive, he could be in America, but escaped from the ship with his little sister, the only close person left of his family.
The young Soviet authorities gladly gave him, like all the blinds, a wide choice: to die of hunger, cold or disease. But the father, after studying two classes in the church-parish school, and somehow reaching adulthood, left his sister to distant relatives and went to Moscow.

After studying at the Dosaaf courses and obtaining the title, the father recruited as a driver to the Belomorcanal. In 1938 he was summoned to service. The Finnish War extended the service for another year, just before the beginning of the Great Patriotic War.

At the beginning of the war, the father was the senior of the mortar calculus, but when on the order of Stalin, who needed at least a few competent fighters who could control the equipment, the father failed, his career went sharply in the mountain. He was given a half-fourth on which he spent the entire war, capturing in addition several post-war months.

When I was a kid, my dad didn’t seem like a hero to me. Is it heroism when during the Finnish time a sniper shoots at you and bullets pass from you in a couple of centimeters? Is this heroism to go out of order after reading the order of Comrade Stalin to identify technically competent fighters, despite the threat of shooting from the commander, who saw in this practical desertion? Is it heroism when a piece of the head takes off a young lieutenant sitting next to you? Is it a heroism when another lieutenant, having decided to show the master class on getting out of the dirt of the half-turn with the attached anti-tank cannon with a four-cylinder, breaks the differential and gives three days to repair? No food, no water, no spare parts, no tools. Fear of not obeying orders. Heroes are not afraid. Is it heroism, when the projectile carries the earthquake, in which you were supposed to sleep, but scared of lice, went to sleep in the cabin half Tuesday? Is it heroism, when in the morning, almost under the wheel, you see a mine, which has not reached a few centimeters? Can this be called a courage when you drive at night along the Ladoga with broken headlights, glasses and a broken stove? Is it a routine to get bombed every day on the road of Life to the besieged Leningrad? And what about the threat of shooting for sabotage, when you are given half an hour to overturn the Landlyzovsky Willis engine! They did not shoot!

He was not awarded with orders or medals, except for the anniversary. He was not even hurt. He just served like millions of other soldiers! He was just lucky to be alive! And only as I grew older I realized that there are the same invisible soldiers as my dad, and there are real heroes. They did not talk about duty, honor, love of the Motherland, patriotism, but simply did their job, fulfilling impossible orders, freezing, starving, cracking and not counting on medals or orders.

He died 39 years after the end of the war. On the Day of Victory. When he was buried, it was raining. I looked at him for the last time, and it seemed to me that he was crazyly tired of this mess and just wanted to wrap himself up, like in a half-wheeled cabin, which would finally take him to a place where there was eternal silence and where there were already millions of unseen soldiers like him.

Vehicles ©

- Mary Ivanna, why do I need your algebra, where can it be useful in my life?
Oh, Petrov, you will still remember me when you are 35 years old doing lessons with your six-grade children!

Do you not think that the Sabbath is an insult to the feelings of the Jewish believers?

I recently heard of a funny incident. My colleague witnessed this story and here it is.)
A car came to the entrance of the food supermarket (it is immediately necessary to clarify that the road to the store is at some angle). From the left front door a man rushed out and escaped in the door of the same store. The car, in turn, slowly started to roll down. Two passers (a very conscious citizen, by the way) saw this picture and immediately tried to stop the car and try to push it back up. It lasted 10 seconds until the driver came out of the car and asked, “Girls, can I leave?” The fact was that the car was “right-handed”.