Masochists are punished only in heaven.

I always thought that the main content in the book, not the carrier.

My Uncle Fedor.

Yuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu!!! The man was driving the car!!! You are a pedestrian fuck!!! to

xxx: If I were the creator of this virus, I would do a random generation of the domain name and if it went, then generate 10 different domain names of 20-30 characters in length, if everyone responds positively, then 100% that the sandbox, if at least one fails, begins to encrypt.
YYY: If I were the creator of this virus, I would have been sitting somewhere in the Amazon jungle and not lighting up. The next ten years. But judging by the release of fresh options, the guys with courage are okay. Let’s look at debilitating.

Give you peanut seeds? Going in the garden...
You are... :D
That is why she is... :D

Okay to you.
As a child, I was fascinated with burning and evaluated everything I saw from the point of view - it can be burned on the board or not.
Accordingly, Dürer and the cartoons were good, and all the painting and doll cartoons were shit.
Then, of course, everything changed.
Everyone has their own assessment system. Sometimes quite deliberate.

What my husband and I thought about yesterday.
XXX is a poppy.
XXX: After our training reports
xxx: will scream not "Piastra!" a "Fibroblasts!" there
XXX: Come and play with a puppy on your shoulder
XXX: thank you for your attention
xxx: and a parrot such: "Fibroblasts!"
xxx: "Erdotheliocytes!"
xxx: "Thousand percent collagen in my aorta!"

The electronic reader cannot be used when taking a bath. But here is an ordinary book - as much as you want, unless you dive into the water.

Why is impossible? High humidity and wet hands. Paper books are not very useful.

The more I look at our officials, the better I understand the personnel policy of I.V. Stalin!

My sweet puppets.

Once, very long ago, the Dean caught me out of my ashes at the moment of my resurrection.
I turned into ashes by bringing my friend Serzhou N-va into the army.
I have already told this shameless story, which perfectly characterizes my destructive influence on all aspects of the lives of the people around me.
I will briefly remind.

Sergey and I lived in the same dormitory. And symbolized the two poles of one refrigerator "Pole". His father worked as a director of a large pork complex.

And I lived on my own in grapefruit and peanut concentrates. Serjozh had breakfast with two slices of pork, which, because of the knowledge of community customs, he roasted right away, in our room, delicately drawing the curtain from me.

Serjozh also ate something very dietetic on the basis of snails and smoked foods, the dinner I usually did not observe, because I ran through the corridors of the hostel number two with a crazy shackle, mad from gastronomic nightmares.
Everything in our room was gone with food: his stuff, his stuff, my stuff, pillows, blankets, textbooks, and I was also gone with the food.

The disgusting habit of smelling fingers, hallucinations, nonsense became my constant companions.
He locked his refrigerator on an elegant chain with a lock, which his mother brought from the pork complex. At the same time, she brought another five kilos of smoked salad and two banks of marinated peppers.

I think that as a child Sergey had fun toys, and his child was beautifully decorated with pig heads and garlands of sausages over the bed in the shape of natural leather pigs. Serjoja loved these marinated pitaches very much and, crushing, snacked them with a vodka, which, of course, with such a diet did not ruin him, but made everything more beautiful and more beautiful.

The man in front of my eyes was filled with physical beauty not by days, but by hours.
Orders from the military came to us. The motherland insisted on calling us into the army, welcomingly indicating the number of the article of the Constitution. More serious agenda did not come and did not come.

On the lines of the recruitment of some other lucky Serjozh said that he would not serve at all. He said loudly, the times were still decent socialist. But in Seroj’s eyes stood the unwavering blue lake of understanding of life.
That same night, I sat down at the desk, took a fading pork paper, a sticky pen and wrote a letter to the Red Star between fat divorces.

In the name of N-va. In the letter it was stated, in particular, that the Baltic grandfather and the Pacific father of Sergei look with condemnation at him, who has not served until now, and as a military officer of the district, Lieutenant Colonel B. Gusev under fictional excuses denies Sergei his right to defend our country.

“Under fictional pretext,” I emphasized twice. The letter ended with a request to send Serjozh to serve in the fleet, preferably on a nuclear submarine. Signed by Sergey N-v.

I dropped it down in the mailbox.
I did not expect this letter to be published in the "Red Star" in the "Meeting the congress of the VLKSM".
They came straight to the lecture hall. Colonel B. Gusev and two captains came.
With great and understandable excitement, I read the letters written to me by a friend of Seroj from Severomorsk. There was everything in those letters.

In those places where my fate was described in the wheelchair at the station, I always interrupted reading and fell asleep.
Six months later I became accustomed to these letters, stopped holding them in my heart and began to push myself off the floor, run in the countryside park, and enrolled in the giraffe sports section.
Here, when I returned from the training, "on which I cried a lot and begged home," I was caught by our good King Dagobert.

The Dean is wonderful. Who, in principle, remembered me, once recognized me on a visual level, but did not want to remember my name. The Dean grabbed my arms and said excitedly, “James! “There was a problem at the school!”

If the greatest trouble at the faculty had not stood before me, if it had not held me so tightly, then I would not have become, afterwards, who I became.

He would just escape and run away. But something stopped me and the two problems of the faculty talked.
“You know, Jim,” said the dean to me, “our faculty has a huge membership debt. We owe a lot to the Komsomol University committee. Students don’t pay their contributions.! to

So there was debt. Komsomol University Committee. Students don’t want to pay, and the debt is done, you know?Before the Komsomol Committee? The duty to the Komsomol committee was organized, yeah?” – I clarified, for the case, passing by the prize draw and pretending if I could break the glass with my head and hide in the bushes.

“Yes!” replied the dean, “the students do not pay contributions on time and the debt has arisen.” “It’s very bad,” I honestly said, “it won’t be swallowed by the head. Debt to the Komsomol Committee. At such times it is very bad when students do not pay contributions on time.” The glass did not seem thick.

“You, Jean, that’s what you have to help us, yes. Kolesnikova (the dean looked at the paper), Kolesnikova doesn’t get to collect contributions on time, you have to help her collect contributions.” “I will definitely help!” I promised as honestly as possible.

“Take a check here!” said the dean suddenly. He helped me find it and hid it in my pocket. “I will return when (the dean looked at the paper) Kolesnikov will say that the debt to the Komsomol Committee has been liquidated...”
“Beautiful Jim,” I said to myself, “beautiful!

Everything went very well. The Truth? Most importantly, the section of giraffe sports helped a lot!”
Two hours later, I was driven out of all possible dormitory rooms to which I entered with the demand of Komsomol’s tribute. I was moaning and angry, knocking my fist at the door, pressing on consciousness and simple human pity.

Maybe it would work in other schools. But at the Faculty of History, you understand yourself... What a pity if there is a circle of observations on the Civil War? The grievance was that it was nothing: two pennies from the nose a month.

But the first collection was stolen, the second amount was lost. The third time was collected not from everyone and such a carousel lasted for several months. But it wasn’t a nightmare amount, no.

With sadness and pain, he returned to his corner. After Sergi N-va was taken to the fleet, my room was not orphaned. I was settled by a border guard who served Vanu and my life went well. Vanessa was drinking.

And since his journey to the country of green fairies only started and weighed Vanya around the center, he needed a lot of alcohol. The lack of funds Vanya compensated, working as a guard in the school, which at night launched all the surrounding slashers and women of difficult fate.

The money received from the sweethearts, Vanya carefully drank, stifling his conscience and shaking the nervous system. He began to have strange ideas and visions. In these visions, Vanya was terrible.

I slept in such vanilla periods as coughing: only one half of my brain. The second half was on the guard of my health and life. Then the half of the brain changed places, there was a shift of guard, and by the seventh day the visions began already in me.
“Do you have vodka?” asked Vanessa. “Wodka will be when you and I liquidate our debt to the Komsomol Committee!” I said, rolling into bed.

“Students don’t pay contributions, you understand, James, and Kolesnikov doesn’t do it... the dean of the bills... the whole kid!” – sleeping half of my brain, I outlined the situation. I didn’t even notice how Vanya took the wrapped insulated assembly and went out of the room, putting our traditionally half-off door in place.

In the morning, I woke up with the other half of my brain and realized that I was a victim of some kind of violence. I found it hard to find another explanation for lying in bed and sleeping like a middle Asian bride with paper money.

He felt himself comprehensively, looked under the bed, drank water. A box of shoes was found under the drawer, which also contained money. The money was still on the floor and even in the sorting.

I felt myself again. It was away from the heart, not so fresh I was to pay for my life-stormed body such a rage of money. Especially since Vanya slept among the blue and red papers. He simply would not give up.
I collected a helpless amount of rubles overnight.

No, not only from historians, he methodically scratched two dormitories, looked at lawyers and philologists. At first, he collected soberly, explaining the situation with debt, and then he swung up somewhere and began to just go in with the assembly and leave with banknotes.
“Seven years...,” I thought, looking at the gathered bunches of dots, “at least. There will be fools in the area to try to get in.

To the library or to the laundry, self-activity to raise.” Convoy dogs laughed in the head and the congestions of stage wagons lay. “You’ve gone, Jim, you’ve gone.”
Vanessa and I handed the money over to the Komsomol Committee. I managed to write a beautiful letter to M.S. Gorbachev by student.

The committee, when they saw me with a petition and Vanu with a box of money, at first didn’t believe their eyes. “This is our work,” I solemnly pronounced with the excited voice of the communist, “to a monument to the first Komsomolts of our region.

There is also debt to contributions.”
Vanessa went to the congress alone. I was nominated in the Komsomol Oblkom.

The less you love a girl, the more money in your wallet.

Last year, my youngest (he was a year old) and I often drove buses, took him in a wheelchair, if something was supposed to be carried back. The boy was active, his brain was full. He saved Scotland. 3.50 in the SP. The son was very busy with them for a long time, wrapped, ripped, chewed, which shocked the passengers, but they were silent - would a mother tell them little, capable of a mother to his son as a Scottish toy?

Meanwhile, my wife and I discussed the future of the Russian language. By analogy with English, the Russian of the future is one that is international. This is the Russian version in which Abkhazians communicate with Tajiks.
xxx: this quite coincides with the philologists, for example, that the concept of gender from the language will go away (that is, only one that is now male will remain)
XXX: Red Potatoes
XXX: That is all.

Antony: About the Restoration - read and laughed: nothing there has changed in three years!
And three years ago I went there just before the May holidays to change the powder on the drive.Change - I went to the country.Three days at the country. Absolutely accidentally pumping the wheel paid attention to the pollinator - and I can't believe my eyes - how it was torn and so it remained. I call the restaurant, they say come. I came up on the lift - and I see that the pollen they changed - only on another drive - where the normal was standing!They call - the mechanic who changed - and he in response : the receiver told me to change the left - I changed.....

I loved books, drinks and women.
He did not ask for more from God.
Now my age has decreased.
There is no power for books anymore.

I live in a small town, local television like home video, all places to the pain are familiar, key people who are interviewed - or my acquaintances or off-site acquaintances, reports - about the installation of a new bench or 20-minute videos about the launch of heating. I am afraid that if I leave here, they will notice and record the whole show about it.

/Children will help not kill the eyes with tablets and readers, mil-man/bla-bla

No, do not get away from the topic. Tell us how the purchase of the re-release of a book, which in the 80s and 65s was an ordinary book on paper slightly better than a newspaper, with offset printing, black and white illustrations and the most ordinary price, and now broken down into two large, on painted paper, with the apseil of the same pictures, but twice the thinner and the total price approaching the carpenter, will help the writer to write even more masterpieces, especially when at the time of re-release he is dead 12 years. Soviet children's books were paid to the authors in Soviet times at the prices of the time, but the prices are sharply higher than for a bunch of adult literature written by living authors, and from what intersection now you need to feed the publisher for the printing of copepast with black iceberg, I don't really understand. Publishers chorned, books filled with paper rubbish on completely horse prices, and electronic books have become a logical alternative for those who do not want to contain a hord of parasites.About damaging the eye with a tablet is quite funny, that is, as long as the student is watching the phone and tablet all day sitting on the sites, everything is normal, but it is worth to start reading, and immediately the doll urgently need a book with fonts like "for the smallest", not the glasses will leak.

Chat of Sisadmin. The WannaCry virus.
xxx: There is an info that Russian mail cards were not affected by the virus
YYY: Have they not yet arrived?
8 They Have Lunch

I personally knew a man who watched Indian movies only for the sake of dances and songs.

There are millions of such in India.

This

The real argument of electronics is only one - pirates are easier to steal, even with a scanner for a long time to enter into a sinful relationship does not have to. Here the thief and the short-sighted lovers of the hole and promote all kinds of aggressive "why to go to the Caruso - it and drunk Izza drinks, and who walks - they are simply out-and-out" They are also crushed in parallel, as literature has rolled - in the latter-day song everything looks dumber than it really is.

Well, let’s tell how the purchase of re-publishments of children’s books written in Soviet times helps writers to create masterpieces. 450 rubles for a thin book, in which nothing original appeared, and if the Soviet book was thick, then crushing it into 2-3 books with a similar price is normal? Purchased as a gift re-release of the "School universe" Korshunov in the online store with delivery to the point of self-export remained in full confidence that the robbers are on the other side of the book.