from the Adams family.
A much better love story than Twilight
Everything is a better love story than Twilight.

Artificial intelligence supports genocide – that’s logical! Developers should rejoice that the robot in the social networks is writing this, not a silent plan of total genocide is preparing.

Keep on girls, do not raise your children, it is so difficult, and the fact that your child behaves this way is not the shortcomings of education, but the manifestations of a small personality, he just creates a mental comfort, as used to, this is the main thing.

Why only girls?
I need to talk to mom and dad.
This is true sexism.
It appears in small things

How is life, people?
WOW: We have trouble, it is cold, the rain is small, I listen to the song of splin - there is no way out and I drink teraflya. Guess how life is.)
Like in Petersburg.
WOW: Complete immersion
xxxh: full immersion, this is if even the urine will smell like a puddle

So that

OP-PA

I can’t stop with all my desire!! Because it’s on the roads!! to
I don't want to live myself - okay, nobody cancelled natural selection, but the child is there?! to

And what hero do you drive at a speed at which you can’t stop? You have to slow down before the pedestrian crossings. Or are you not aware?

No hero he does not drive at a speed at which he cannot stop. There is always a brake path. And the smart, moms who every driver guaranteed that he will not violate the speed regime, go out on the road, out of the concrete block (I don't know if this is normal or not), or a car that should not be parked before the pedestrian crossing, without looking. That is, the wheelchair is already on the road, and Mom does not yet see what is happening on the road. I saw it in my life on the bus. The pedestrian is obliged to make sure that he is not in danger and only after that to cross. Or are we not aware?

Astrologers have announced a week of thick Hermione.

The witch has doubled.

1992: No one sacralizes the victim. Simply by accusing the victim of provoking the criminal, society justifies the criminal. When they say “she is guilty” they mean that the criminal is not guilty. And if it is the fault, it is not very well understood. It is always in connection. Society sympathizes with the criminal, and therefore seeks out what the victim is wrong with. She may really be wrong – in that she doesn’t take into account the number of fools on the streets, but ADEQUATE people first and foremost have the idea of how a lot of fools on the streets are foolish, and that something needs to be done about it. We have to fight the rapists. And in our society, the first thought is to fight the manifestations of the stupidity of the victims in transparent shirts. Violents are perceived as an inevitable evil, like bad weather. When you get under the car, the driver can really be not guilty of anything, or guilty of negligence, in inattention. Not always the driver shoots the pedestrian intentionally (more precisely - almost never). Violence is always conscious. Always you understand? And this is really a terrible trouble, and you minimize the importance of this trouble, bring it down to the level of ice on the roads.

We came to the country at six, my friends went to the bathroom, and three men mangal divorce, all the affairs, I hang around, help, and it is visible that my presence is very heavy. And it's true, vodka is in the house, but thus throwing a snack in the middle of the way with me is not a comilfo. Here is one:
- Oh, we need to cut the wood on the sticks, and the tail is in the house!
And all three synchronously collapse from the seat behind the tail.
I: guys, I’ll bring you now!
They are chorus:
Light, do not prevent us from carrying a tail!

I will go on to our colloquial: so, guys, remember - the status is won by labor and work, and not by a fox, a fashionable hairstyle, a stunt and a drink from a smoothie in a glass.

An old Scottish man complains to a close friend:

“I, John McMurray, built two good, strong bridges across the river. Whole
The village now walks on these bridges and rejoices. But nobody, nobody
Call me "John the Bridge Builder"!

I, John McMurray, when our village was attacked by the ugly at night.
The Englishman jumped out of the house and killed twelve enemies.
There are only two scratches. But nobody, nobody calls me "John
The Brave Warrior"

I, John McMurray, am a skilled carpenter. I had so many swords.
Our grandchildren will not lack them. But nobody, nobody
It is "John the Knight of Swords".

But I had to fuck a sheep once.

From the life of a book store consultant.
A little about why I don’t like pets.
XHHH: So young and cute
And asked Oscar Wald's book "The White Claw Black Ear"

In terms of potatoes, people are terrorists who take potatoes captive in order to get a ransom. But they are redeemed by even larger villiers – the damn sadists who torture potatoes, tear them off the skin, scratch their eyes, cut them into pieces and, in the end, just kill them in boiling water or oil, or in some other cruel way. Only a few of them are merciful, and buy out to free - to let go to the natural environment, where the potatoes can live and reproduce... But then the terrorists come again.

Forget about:
You are throwing pearls in the wind.

As in a granite.

I go to bed, my husband hugs me before I go to bed. I started calling the cat.
X is kiss.
and not need.
X is kiss.
and not need.
X Why?
Tragically, we all dream!

Doctors are fighting diseases. Officials with corruption.

Not my... by Sergio Babenco
When I was going to study at the institute and, accordingly, to live in the shelter, my mother gave me a huge bowl and said that with her I would not die of hunger. Then it sounded very strange to me. It cannot exist on its own. She doesn’t know how to cook herself. How I was wrong then. If something was cooked in a bowl, I could always participate in a bowl. And since such pads were disappearing few, they called me often. And the girls of her from me took something to bake in her as in shape. Sweets were also offered as rent.

The government noted a sharp decline in population incomes. It was in a narrow circle, modestly. Only Dom Perignon and Normandy oysters were served at the table.

My wife and daughter say to me:

- See, we found a journey to Greece, flew for rest.

I see :

That is expensive.

They are:

This is for three.

I am :

So you are not going down.

What would you call yourself if you found out your husband was cheating on you?

The widow.

My brother works in a mobile phone store. They have a young man in the group, whom their fellow servants call no other than Hookuma. He was called by this name by a group of elderly foreigners.



Going to the store with grandmother. Probably English-speaking tourists. They look around and talk about something. They needed the seller’s advice. They approach the same boy, look at the badge, read his name, look over somewhat surprised, and unsettledly say, "Good morning, Hukuma!".



The poor Nikita!

That needs to be honest. A "honest man" is an oxymoron. Almost all men have a scenario in their heads: I will marry at 20 on a peer, at 40-50 I will divorce and marry a young woman. Few people say frankly - no, I need to get on my feet first, until forty - no babies.

I married at twenty. Butterflies, when will you stop giving out your wet fantasies for the results of the alleged perception of men? Marrying at 20 is a pure baby jump, not even arising in the head of a high school student, who understands perfectly that he has no housing, no money, no firm plans for the future.