There were two cousins in the same class. At the beginning of the next school year, the teacher gave a home assignment to write a piece on the theme: "How I spent the summer". Summer in the village, for rural children, where nothing interesting does not happen, does not contribute to the flight of thoughts on this topic. With this problem, one of the girls approached her mother, who explained that once they ask for a composition, you can write not what actually happened, but what you wanted to happen. Well, then the soul of the "writer" turned, stumbled and pointed out how she was travelling to the camp not the sea. The work was "very even" and the teacher decided to read it in the classroom. The second girl on the change then gave the first:

How could you! I went to the sea and didn’t even tell me. I have a sister too! It is also called a friend!

and swallowed. I did not talk for a week. The arguments that it was just a composition did not pass. As well as the fact that while living in the neighboring streets, they were very often visiting each other throughout the summer.

Yes, I fought with my head the other day. It is the first beginning!

The garbage thrown into the urn is much more patriotic than the tape on the car.

It is easy to be a patriot. You pulled the tape, and you are all a patriot! You can still "do the inscription on the BMW in Berlin", and bring a piece of garbage, and if there is no urn nearby, put it in the pocket and throw out later this work, daily work, it is more difficult than on 9 May to become a patriot for 1 hour or even a day.

Did you hear what the accused said?
“No, I was at the other end of the corridor, and he spoke quietly, almost whispering.
Why did you think the accused was disrespectful to the authorities?
- I explain, he spoke quietly, almost whispering, and then suddenly said loudly, "Here are goats!"
Why did you think he said this about the authorities?
And about whom else?! to

On the one hand, Russia has stood on the rails of import substitution, and on the other hand, it is abundantly lubricating them with palm oil.

I have one very famous acquaintance. Once she was walking with her six-year-old son and he hit his head on a playground. There was not even a clot on his head, but the acquaintance was afraid that he might have a brain shock. Even after she laid the child to sleep, from time to time she walked into his bedroom, woke his son and asked his name. When she went back to him again, she saw a sticker glued to his forehead. On the label label was written:
“My name is Artem.”

The deputies were beaten silently to avoid falling under the law on insulting the authority.

I love bananas – I think it’s even mutual.

I’m grown up and can buy it myself. But as a child, when I asked my parents to take them, I always heard two options in response.

In the spring:

At this price? ! to Better to take oranges and shrimp twice as much!

In the summer:

In winter, you should eat bananas. And now you need to take pears, apples, melons.

Morality: If parents don’t like bananas, they’re never on time.

He leaves the hospital and sits in the car. At Grandma’s stop:

Are you in town?

Yes Yes

Do you bring?

Sit down

Dialogue along the way:

Are you married?

– not

I will introduce you to my grandchildren. One truth is foolish...and the other nothing, in Ufa lives...

Strange thing, but many confuse an active civil position with a convenient place next to some satiate feeder.

All the opera plots are reduced to the fact that the tenor and soprano tend to sleep, and the baryton prevents them.
Bernard Shaw

I went to a shop with a friend to buy her new shoes.

The girlfriend is a thin natural blonde with long loose hair and very correct facial features.

She used shoes very peculiarly - put on her leg and froze. I didn’t go, I didn’t go, I just froze.

A second after ten “disappears” and says – she, I think, squeezes a little.

Some young aunt, passing by us, suddenly with a whispering "AAAAAAA" shakes away, almost sitting on the neighboring banquet, then loudly to us: "Tyfu you, I thought you were a mannequin."

I have one very famous acquaintance. Once she was walking with her six-year-old son and he hit his head on a playground. There was not even a clot on his head, but the acquaintance was afraid that he might have a brain shock. Even after she laid the child to sleep, from time to time she walked into his bedroom, woke his son and asked his name. When she went back to him again, she saw a sticker glued to his forehead. On the label label was written:

“My name is Artem.”

I waited for my wife near the TC and decided to go to the grocery store to buy home. I bought everything, but I can’t find the eggs. I see a man standing in sight like a shop worker, then my dialogue with him:



You have eggs.

The man thought a little and answered with a smile.

Yes, I have eggs. But I do not work here.



It wasn’t as clever to be honest :) but at the same time it was funny.

In the midst of the reconstruction, the Americans began to travel to us. At the time, the exhibition "Informatics in the life of the United States" was opened. The line went through the whole territory, it was necessary to stand for three or four hours. Not only were there real computers and live Americans, but they also gave a fresh issue of America magazine at the entrance and the most important thing! Plastic package with pepsicola advertising. At that time, it was valued hardly more than a Louis Whitton bag. I just entered the institute, there was a lot of time, so I was at this exhibition several times.

But I went there not so much for western goods, as to talk to a girl at one of the stands. Jennifer spoke Russian well, she previously practiced at the Pushkin Institute of Russian Language and Literature, which was near our community, she was alive, sociable, interested in Russian history and literature, and she was beautiful. So I spent most of my time next to her stand, along with a crowd of our fellow citizens. Sometimes time was not enough and in the evening, after the closing of the exhibition, we walked around the VDNH.

On the third or fourth day she had to leave for twenty minutes, and she asked to replace her by looking behind the stand.

She left, and the people continued to approach, looking at the exhibits and asking questions. And the questions in general were roughly the same and repeated regularly, the answers to most I already knew.

“What do you have here? »

I explained.

What is the average salary in America? »

“Two thousand dollars.” (I can’t remember the exact numbers)

What is the pension of Americans?

“1200 dollars.”

“What do you think of Solzhenitsyn?”

“He’s a good writer, but he has a very archaic language.”

Sometimes there were compliments: “How well you speak Russian!”

“It’s because my ancestors were from Russia.”

“Are you virtually ours? ! to »

“Well, I can probably say so.”

Some tried to speak English, but I immediately tried to stop such things: "You can ask in Russian, it is useful for me to practice."

And at least one doubted that it was not a real American who was talking to him, but a self-proclaimed man!

For some reason, nobody thought about the fact that the Russians who drive and the Russians who drive quickly are completely different people!

He helped a doctor carry medical equipment. The trunk and the rear seat were stuck and the demonstration skeleton I sat on the seat, attaching it to the belt so that it didn’t talk. On the way I saw a lot of eyes. At one intersection, a man in the car on the side looked so surprised at my passenger that I could not stand, dropped the glass and said:
Take him to the doctor’s office.
The Man:
I think it is too late!

Medvedev was concerned that Zelensky would have to "solve the most difficult social problems that today are so acute for millions of Ukrainians" that it could be thought that the problems of millions of Russians Medvedev has already solved. Or is he hoping that they will also be decided by Zelensky?

Today he bakes in the summer, so at the end of the run he pulled off the wind, remaining in the maid. I approach my entrance, and from there comes out a neighbor with a baby three or four years old. The girl looked at me and said to her mother:

Look at the dressed man!

Not my uncle, but my uncle, teaches my mother.

“No,” said the girl, “I only have one uncle, Uncle Mish, and the other uncles.

“You still need to say uncle, and ‘uncle’ is uncultural,” Mother objects.

“No, mom, all the relatives are uncles, and the rest are uncles, even Dima from your work, who comes to visit us! She reveals all the secrets of the girl.

I say goodbye to the woman and go into the entrance, and I hear a voice from the closed door:

Don’t tell anyone about Uncle Dime anymore.

Recently, our driver had a holiday - 15 years of marriage with a slightly inadequate on the ground of jealousy wife. In the morning I asked and went to meet her from the night shift, decided to make a surprise. He sat next to the shop, so he was waiting. Here on the front passenger seat sits a girl aged 20-25, calls the address. I didn't have time to explain that he wasn't a taxi driver, the driver's door opened and the angry wife shouted, "I thought he was at work, and he was riding with the prostitutes!" He begins to slide him on the back. The prostitute jumps out of the car and runs away at sunset, which further aggravates the victim’s situation.



PS: In the evening, the driver again asked - to celebrate the happy 15 years in the restaurant.