People just want childhood.

Tormented by mortgages, crazy communal services, miserable wages, bosses, mortgages and loans, sales “servants of the people”, housekeeping, the inevitable awareness of old age and nothingness...

People just want to be small. Instead of Putin, she is my mother. Instead of a mortgage, teaching. Instead of a dull, dull porn-drum, a man from the neighboring class who is happy to just carry a portfolio, without moving a worm in shorts... Without politics, without concerns, without problems – that’s what people want.

Everybody wants childhood. Childhood is perfectly careless, the absence of sexual instinct (i.e. with sincere emotions and passions) and faith in the good. A good future.

A long time ago, in my childhood when I was 10-11 years old, I got money on the phone, 400 rubles, it is unknown from whom.

Well, I think they fell and fell, well, maybe some of the relatives were generous.

After a while, a guy calls me and says, saying that your number was mistakenly thrown money, you need to return it.

I explain to him, I don’t have 400 rubles, I whip my ass, my mom and dad hold me, so I have 400 rubles.

That guy seemed to have gone away, so I decided to live on.

After a couple of days he calls again (what I have been waiting for so long, I don’t know. Per the whole community is cyborged, what to do? And he says, I was told that I am a shit, it does not justify me at all, the money I have to return, only now in the amount of 800 rubles, said interest for unjustified enrichment. After that, he began to explain for life the human and the manna, the pink and the blue sandals.

I didn’t understand what interest for unjustified enrichment meant. Of course I knew about interest, in school, but about unfounded enrichment I heard for the first time and decided that I was just scared with incomprehensible words. Nevertheless, I again explained to him that for these two days I did not stop being a shit, I did not receive an inheritance, I did not get a job, I solve my shit problems myself, without the help of my parents, and therefore I declare with all responsibility that I do not have money, there may be 200 rubles in the coffin, a little thing.

That type, my 200 rubles were not arranged, and he decided to pull out of the sleeve the main stunt and told me that he is sitting in the area at all, he knows the "right guys" including from my city (I am a fool, I said in which city I live) and these same guys will come with me to figure out and then I will give him not 800 rubles, but already 1500. After which he said that he served the punishment on the "eight" sits in the 5th squad and called his clique, saying that I was a muddy. Then he gave me a day to think where to get the money and put it on his account.

And I went to think. I knew that a colony located in one of the cities of our region was called the "eight", and I also knew that cell phones were banned in the colonies, because my father at that time served as the head of the opera (kum) colony located near our town. I went to Bat and decided to ask for a solution to the problem. Father listening to me, only clarified the number of the unit and the click.

The next day, the father came from work and said that my information was confirmed, that uncle found and seized a cell phone, and also explained what is good and what is bad, that is, in terms of human life, and a few days sent to SHIZO, to think.

Whether the uncle made any conclusions, I don't know, but no "right guys" to arrange the "rule" came to me.

Apparently dropped my uncle, but I honestly announced everything to him, and I did not have at the time, as I seemed other ways to solve the problem, I had to contact the authorities.

You cannot rely only on your opinion on any issue. For decency it is necessary to listen to a few idiots.

Yesterday I went out and saw a neighbor with a mattress, collecting something, under his door.

What good did you find there?

"There it fell, it happened to me at night to put the beaten glass in the track where I am leaving the yard. I’ll catch, I’ll drown the cock!

This morning, just as it was dawned, I needed to go for business. I opened the gate, I was going to drive out the car, and suddenly I see that the neighbor’s cage is moving along the fence.

I have to say that the fence of the neighbor is made of a professional roof and a height of 2 meters, only at the bottom of a strip of 30 centimeters from the grid. Between us a fence of rabbit grid, so I see everything perfectly.

The dog, a neighbor for the night, is released to walk in the courtyard, during the day he is in his wilderness. The dog is a two-year-old Caucasian.

I wonder who he looks like? I see, along the path along the fence, a grandmother goes and carries a bag with a bowl of milk. The courtyards are five by five from me, people keep cows from their fixtures, and the whole street buys milk from them. Here is my grandmother and she carries steam milk from her morning breastfeeding.

While I was looking around, the old lady approached the neighboring gate, and at that moment the cabbage jumped and whispered almost into her ear. What is the unexpected GAV!!! In the ear, from a dog the size of a calf, I don’t think we need to talk. My grandmother struck like the wind, only the broken bank whispered complaining. A couple of minutes later, the grandmother returned, pulled out the bite glass from the package and began to lay the pieces in the track by which the neighbor leaves the courtyard.

Kobe went to volley with pleasure, for today he has fulfilled his task.

Interestingly, and if a search is carried out by the entire leadership of the FSB - will it be possible to lower the retirement age back?

Another case in the work of a venereologist. I would call it strange.

There was a constant “client” in the doctor’s office. A young man aged 35 goes to the doctor stably once a month or two. Married, he denies any contacts, refuses extended tests for PPI, only gives sperm for one type of bacteria (every time different).

Ask why he so often passes tests that do not give an expanded picture of the disease?

The answer - he gets pleasure from the way he passes the analysis. Take it home in the morning and bring it - refuses, requires taking it not in the toilet for patients, but directly in the doctor's office. One time I went to the doctor asking, "Can you look? Suddenly I’m doing something wrong.”

by Mr. In an institution, the doctor is obliged to take it, understanding that another doctor should already work here (think a psychologist, a psychiatrist or a psychotherapist). Otherwise, complaint, fine and excuse.

I have another question, “Is he sick?”

Ten years ago, I borrowed a friend 30,000 rubles a month, before my salary. After the deadline, I reminded him and then reminded him again. I also found out what he owes the whole city. And gradually I asked him less and less.

Eight years passed and there was a rumor in the city that someone had killed someone in order not to pay the debt. I perceived this news and decided to forgive him all the debt. I told him about it, “Vasya, I forgive you the debt! You owe me nothing more!”

He was not surprised by this event, in his eyes read: "And what duty? And this one! I was going to give it!”

But yesterday he calls me on the phone (two years ago, as I forgave the debt) and asks for 15,000 rubles. I say, you did not give up the past.

But you have forgiven me.

No, I will not owe you.

Ask me anything! I put the phone.

This is so

They met on the birthday of a common friend. He was noted widely, in a restaurant with a large veranda. It was a hot end of May, a lot of wine, a sirene bloomed in the yard. Under the syrene, they started kissing, suddenly.

Dasha was a faithful wife, with her husband for eight years, but it was today she suddenly thought, "Damn, but you can afford it once! “Today is the best night for betrayal.” My husband went to Peter on a business trip. And Roma looked at her light yellow dress, under which it was easy to distinguish a strong figure, and thought, “Fuck, cool! And so he looks at me. What am I stupid? to forward! » He was also a loyal husband, well, almost loyal, but today is a special evening. When it all worked.

So they kissed and poured wine out of their glasses. And Rome said, “Get to me? » He said so confidently, so charming. Dasha thought for a moment (you can’t agree instantly), she replied, “Let’s just go unnoticed.”

They kissed in a taxi, they kissed in the elevator. Eight years of marriage seemed so sad now, Dasha was drunk and happy. Yes, the best evening for betrayal, everything went perfectly: wine, sirene, business trip, heat, this slightly shaved guy. In the apartment, Dasha pulled from Roma's jacket, threw it on the floor. Roma began to get rid of Dasha from the yellow dress.

She said, “Take a shower together. » Roma replied, “Of course! »

He went quickly to the kitchen. Dasha was surprised. “We need to heat the water,” explained Roma. “We turned off the heat.”

“Hm,” said Dasha.

Roma put a large pot on the plate. Emalled pot with blue flowers, probably bought in a Soviet business store. Sculpture on Emily. A terrible pot.

Bosaia Dasha came into something sticky. “That’s the beer I poured out yesterday,” Roma explained. Dacia sat on a chair, pressing her legs. Rome walked nervously through the kitchen. Dasha began to look at the picture on the wall: Roma, his wife, their daughter.

Where is the family? I asked Dasha.

to the sea.

Oh well clearly. Soon there is water, smoke?

My name is Roma.

Oh sorry to me.

Dasha stood up, walked to the plate on her chicks, dropped her hand into the pot: a little warm.

Roma looked around Dasha, thought, “Generally nothing special, the legs are thick, it is cluttered...”

Dasha stood by the plate, thinking, “Why am I rushing here? Ordinary man, dirty floor, this pot is awful.

The water finally warmed up. Roma took a hot pot with a towel and put it into the bathroom. He looked difficult. Daisy smiled:

“Listen, what, will we water each other out of the basket? Wild sex, of course.

“Yes, it’s somewhat strange,” said Roma. Let’s go in turn. You are first. Do not waste all the water, but heat it again.

There is no other pot?

Only this is big. In general, there is a cabbage salt in it, I borrowed until there is no hot water.

The cabbage? I wonder where this strange smell comes from.

I wash somehow.

Here Dasha understood: she was tired, she wanted to go home, sleep, she didn’t like Dima... that is, Roma. But most of all, she’s angry with this pot. Dacia quickly put on a yellow dress.

You are what? I asked Roma.

I am home. I am sorry.

“Well, okay,” Roma replied, thinking that there was enough water now.

Dacia took a taxi. The best night is over. Passion was stuck in a large pot.

Roma in the bathroom started watering herself out of the basket. He said, “I need to wash my head.” And then I decided: lazy, tomorrow morning will wash.

by Alexei Beljakov

Between light interest and unhealthy curiosity there is a rather thin line.

Yesterday on a friend’s birthday, the guests shared their stories of dating their wives. A bunch of options, from the banals studied together or served together (yes, in the Israeli army it happens:) to...
I’m a modest guy, I just can’t approach a girl like that. My friends told me to go to Tinder. I wrote to several girls and agreed to meet one of them. Only she is on the photo without a face, while the figure is a fire. And the photo with the face to send refused - like I am so beautiful you will immediately recognize me and if you do not recognize then you do not understand the beauty and all that. I was caught - her pictures on horses are beautiful, I think she is doing horse sports - well cool! Immediately offered to sit in the bar of a very expensive hotel - but you need to start with something. I dressed beautifully and went. I come, a girl is sitting behind the stand, in a dress on the floor, all of myself, I immediately came to her, greeted her, introduced myself and began to talk about horse sports - I was preparing, studied! Only she somehow responded reluctantly, but then seemed to get involved. We drank a cocktail and found a lot in common. And only half an hour later on my question about Tinder she made astonished eyes and looked at me as an unusual. Because in no Tinder she is lost, and she has not agreed to meet with anyone. And in the hotel, she lives as herself from the region by travelling to New York for work. The name just coincided.
As a result, the second child is now waiting :)

Judging by how hard the authorities are building the churches, we have only to pray.

Behind the forest of temples it is increasingly difficult to see the Holy Spirit.

She is your mother, or How to Love

My history teacher at school was Mikhail Rybakov. You can find it on Wikipedia.

To say that he was a Jew is to say nothing.

He was neither a Jew nor a Jew, but a Jew. As in the images of the Goebbels News, with the size of the nose, a gray-plugged and carded sho French musketeer. The warts are where they are. The lesson was called “History”.

Then he left the classroom, wearing a crazy suit and a hat, in the sight of which he wanted to sing "seven or forty." There were no pearls in it. Thank God there were no smartphones and no Instagram.

He led our class by the hand to the place where Askold and Deer were killed. It was a five-minute walk from school. He showed us where they were killed and told us why, then we went to the tomb, then we went to see the Golden Gate and the underground museum. There under the glass lay the rusted weapons of our Aryan ancestors.

The place where the friends of the deceased conung Rurik jumped out of the drakkars on the Dnieper sand, and Oleg the Witcher brought out the young Ingvar, the future husband of Helga the Holy, the father of Svyatoslav the Brave and the grandfather of Vladimir the Red Sunnychko, wrapped in the prince's coat.

This is the place! A Jew cried and cried. It was all here! Why don’t you want to know this?

We were fucking.

Then we went to Illinois, the place of the very first church of Russia. We were bored, the girls went to smoke around the corner, and he ticked his finger into the building and said, “You don’t see! Two martyrs were killed here. Not mine, but yours! Peggy Russian Pgavoslav Hystyans!”

We were all fucking.

He brought to the lessons some rare foilings of the history of Ukraine, grims in a cover of the skin of virgins, and was angry when we didn’t want to teach our history. He called us “Phidugi” and “Degenegadi”. We were only looking for naked women.

Our people survived because they remembered their history. Why don’t you want to know yours?

He sat on a chair and something exploded underneath him. A simple system of head of light bulbs and scissors.

We are rugged. We were fucking.

Of course, it was sent by kebenimathers from all schools. Because it was impossible to teach Ukrainian history so clearly in the USSR. The latter, it seems, was a school in Rusanovka, where a Jew who was stunned by the history of Ukraine was killed.

Here is.

I was taught the history of my country by a funny and ridiculous Jew. A district laugh. A clown in a wet coat and a covered hat. But now I know – how the warriors were planted, how the Golden and Lyd Gate were standing, why the Lutezh and Bukrinsk plateau, I know the history of Magdeburg law and where the tomb of Ilya Muromz.

Three colonels came out of my class, one of the General Staff. Children's famous illustrator, European swimming champion, and I, not the god of the sho, but I also try.

You understand why I, a Ukrainian, consider any anti-Semitic as a personal enemy.

And I remember, Mikhail Alexandrovich, by the nickname “Gus”, as you sadly said with your hose burned on your ass, looking out the class window.

Ukraine is your mother. You don’t love your mother at all?

Behind the window was rain, the corner of 310 cabinets, the third floor of school No. 30. We were fucking. We were all Komsomolers.

Your people have walked in the wilderness for forty years. We only travel thirty.

I will not forget, Mikhail Alexandrovich, how a Jew taught me to love Ukraine. I would like to say thank you and honestly whisper for all the bad - but... you will not hear me anymore.

Judging by the incomes of deputies, world drug trafficking passes through the State Duma, and judging by the laws adopted, it ends there.

I was 4 years old and when I sat down to eat I drove my mom out. I will not eat from this plate, give it another. My mother translated. And I’m telling my mother again and I’m not going to go from this one, let’s go from another. Then, the same thing with the glass, I will not drink from this, so my mom spilled and transferred 5-10 times there. I also changed skirts and skirts.



A grandmother comes and sees this picture. He said, “Give it to me for a few days.

My mom gave it.



I tried to do the same with my grandmother at lunch. I will not eat from this plate.

The Grandmother:

You will not? Well, okay, the cat will and toss out my cat’s food. The next meal is after dinner. Yes, I didn’t cry for a long time, because I quickly realized that it was useless. Children know who can be manipulated and who can not.

I tried for the next meal, again to check my caprices, but I was quickly out of training 2-3 days was enough.



My grandmother was not a sadist. My grandmother died in 1998 when I was 17. I loved and respected her and visited her frequently, almost every weekend, until her death.

And by the way, she never beat (their parents were beaten with a belt sometimes) and never shouted at us and our brother, but was an authority for us and we obeyed her.

She adhered to a simple rule – “I said – do,” it works very powerful.

When I was 14 or 15 years old, I had a diary. In it, I wrote about my teenage experiences, about my first love, made plans and “offended” my parents and my younger sister. And it was mine, personal, that nobody should ever have read! But one day my mom found it and read it (I understood it when she accidentally spoke about what she shouldn’t know). And then I burned it... in the oven... one leaf of it, and I burned it. And my mother in the next room pretended to be asleep, and she cried quietly in her pillow...I heard this, but then I was very upset that someone invaded my personal space without permission.



Of course, I understood why she did this, but much, much later, when she became a mother.



One day, while browsing the school table during the summer holidays, I got a notepad of my second-grade daughter, cut out of a notebook (I did it before). It didn’t look like a diary, and I decided to look at it. The paintings are mainly... On one page of a child’s handwriting was written:



“Today my mom tossed me again. I can’t tolerate cows!”



I felt terribly uncomfortable about invading somebody’s private, even my little daughter... But since then I haven’t wrapped her a single bit until she asked for it. It was in 9th grade!



by Zy. My personal space has been invaded many times... But worse than this was not me, but those who did it!



Thank you for reading!) This is personal, of course, but you can! ? All are good!

Time can cure everyone, but not everyone.

The mayor of Yekaterinburg agreed to conduct an independent survey on the construction of the temple in the square, according to the results of the survey won daughter Alsu.

Before going to the store for food, it is desirable to eat tightly.

I live in Dacia. and yesterday. In the morning, I drink coffee on the veranda. They knock, let go - gastarbayters, cultural, polite:
"Lord, let's cut the lawn for you, only 5,000, we won't take it expensive.
I answered:
God, I came with my grass-cutting machine, thank you, I don’t have to.
They smile and refuse:
I’m sorry master))
and today. The car was stolen)))