Because of all the resonant cases in connection with young girls who posted or posted their photos in swimsuits and subsequently got problems ( I don’t understand why society has reacted so). All our young classmates cleaned their Instagram pages and began to walk in strict costumes. Even in the days when children are not in school. It was somewhat darker :(

has long been. At that time, the internet was not unlimited and young people loved to gather on the bench at the entrance. At the time of the neighbors, I knew everyone - our house from the former institute, and the former employees still lived in it. But there were also a couple of young families who recently moved. I did not know them. It was a time when there were no deaf iron doors, and the entrance was opened with a primitive key - a screwdriver.



A strange guy walked into our entrance. The next day at 9 p.m. he came and opened the entrance door. Twenty minutes later he came back. One day I went in for him to listen to what floor he was going up. Judging by the steps, it was the last, 5th floor. The door did not knock, the keys did not ring.



My friends and I decided one day to follow him. In order not to hear him, we even had to take off our shoes. As always at 9 p.m., the guy opens the entrance door with his key and goes through. Within a few minutes, we carefully steal after him. They climbed to the 5th floor, and he is sitting on the corks and putting his ear in the lock well and listening.



So what are you doing here? “I’ll call you,” said my friend Andrei.



The guys! Sorry, I am not a thief and not a fraudster, my wife left me with her daughter to another, they moved here... they forbid communicating with the child... and I come after work... just listen to how my daughter says... she’s just bathing her at this time... she already knows the words...



Even when I was 20 years old, my tears turned from this story.

When you see the title: "Financial aid from 14.9% annual" - you understand that this is a aid, first of all - a bank

I am actually a good driver. The honest word. And very disciplined. And the experienced - thirty years driving like no one, and Los Angeles is a huge city and difficult for the driver.

But it happens, it happens... Everything happens. It turned out. In the wrong place. The streets here are divided into “business” and “residential”. So, on “residential” you can turn, and on “business” you can’t. Although this street is relatively "business" - it is always empty. some kind of storage. And, if strictly between us, it’s not the first time I’m here. There is almost no movement here. Where did this policeman come from? He walked behind the tree with his motorcycle, no differently. Now it will begin...

Their rights? Registration of the car? The Insurance?

Here, keep it, man, I’m all right – and my rights, and my insurance. A very young cop, very struggling, the harsh official appearance leaves itself.

When was your last penalty? How much time has passed?

I am thinking. In fact, he was only one of me.
- At a thousand nine hundred... - I hardly remember, - ah, eighty-nine years.

Cop is lost for a moment and forgets how adult and serious he is:

“I wasn’t born then,” he suddenly said embarrassed.

Despite the unpleasant situation, I can hardly suppress the smile and the desire to ask, “When did you, son, be born?” Maybe somewhere in the nineties. They have grown up, too. Absolutely adult people. Even though the nineties were yesterday...
........................................................................................

The eighty-nine was yesterday too. The officer was also young. My fellow man. He stopped me for excess speed. I had little driving experience.

What a car! Especially for inexperienced beginners drivers such were purchased then. Old, strong, big - and beating is not unfortunate, and safer. They were robust, but the reliability of these old keys did not differ. Shortly thereafter, the front wheel fell off. While making it back, they tricked to somehow disconnect the spidometer. So, with what speed I was driving, and even from the mountain, I have no idea. Probably not very large. (Who knew her, how strong her other wheels held there?)

Also, I remember, I was delighted that this cop was not one of my students - in a densely populated Russian-speaking emigrant area, I was just at this time desperately trying to teach at least a few Russian words of police, firefighters and paramedics. All the city services were confused by this influx of Russian language, and we talked about at least short-term courses for those who had to deal with the public.
Well, real courses did not work, and some words still learned... Yes, it would be uncomfortable if a student.

Cop looked into my car, where my four-year-old daughter was sitting in a special chair in the rear seat, shaking his head - what, say, a careless mother! He gently said to the little girl:
- Baby, wait a moment, now we and Mommy will talk a little, and you will go on.

The daughter hugged a policeman's uncle, and he began to write a fine.

And so that this fine did not affect my "driving history" and insurance, it was recommended to go to a special school and sit there for eight hours. I polished a phone guide and chose one where comic actors were taught. (Life in Hollywood has its own peculiarities.) I thought, maybe it’t be so boring.

That was in vain. For eight hours, we, a group of offenders, honestly listened to how these people tried to “do ridiculously,” telling and visually depicting what could happen on the road when the driver was poorly trained, inexperienced, careless or careless. And the more they tried, the worse we became.
Per that was the point of this training. The educational moment. The impression remains simply indelible. In any case, since then, I have tried to drive very carefully and not to disturb anything if possible.

Something wrong has overcome my memories.
........................................................................................
“Given your perfect driving history, this time I will limit myself to a warning,” the boy in shape tells me, “and suddenly adds something very human, just don’t do it again.

I will not, I promise honestly. I really will not. If you promise something to a child, it must be fulfilled. Fuck, what kind of child? An adult man, even in execution. No matter what, the word must be kept.

Copp sits on his motorcycle and breaks so sharply that I scratch and involuntarily think that his mother is probably very worried about him. I would be worried if my son... or grandson...

I sit in the car for a moment and recover. And suddenly I realize how many people around me are very young – students, police, firefighters, paramedics, nurses and nurses in hospitals, salespeople in shops, builders... Noisy, fun, energetic, with their loud music, with their tattoos and smartphones. The world already belongs to them.

It is time for me to go home. They wait for me. Children will come to visit. Bringing a grandson.

Because I am already a grandmother.

It is just unclear when this all happened.

She did not allow her husband to buy a helicopter on the radio control. Do you know what he did? He called a social service and said he was suffering from domestic violence.

I work in the hospital, in the children's department. Toys are laid down in the office and on the table (to distract and engage the little ones while communicating with parents). Among the toys there is a small steam truck, which is bright in color, and the size is suitable and generally superb!

The boy and his mother go straight to the steam car. He rides, tries and asks:

Is this your steam car? Are you playing him?

I say yes, I play when there is no one.

Do you go home to play?

and yes.

He breathed with unfailing sadness:

I am not allowed to bring toys from the garden. You are happy!



I’m going here, I’m glad)) Now everyone will go and I’ll play)))

I go to the metro. Very tight in the car. I stand, holding my hand for the top assignment. Next to me are a couple, a girl and a young man. Also hold on to the top assignment. The girl's hand is very close to mine, even the sluggish touches the edge of the palm, and the guy puts his over her, gently glimpses and something whispers on her ear. The girls smile happily, looking him faithfully in the eyes.

Everything that followed happened very quickly.

The wagon shakes sharply. I held my hand, and the girl could not and pulled off. She pushed my shoulder, apologized and immediately grabbed her hand again for the order, but not before my palm, but behind it. The guy, without looking again, placed his hand on his palm from the top... Only not on her, but on mine—he didn’t look up, he just touched my palm with his hand and laid his palm from the top. We were all in gloves and he did not feel the difference.

Continuing to whistle something gently to the girl's ear, I began to gently chew my palm from the top, mowing her. All this lasted a few seconds.

I quietly look him in the face, questioningly lifting up my eyebrows, he looks at me dissatisfied—like why am I interfering with their idylly? I point my head to his hand lying on mine. He looks unconscious.

As the squeezed pulls off his, thickly redens and presses out "Sorry! “Both bullets flew out of the car at the stop, a girl jumping from laughter, a guy with a stone face.

Spring is fucking.

My sister has a boyfriend. At the same time, a crane began to flow in her apartment. And then on one of the dates a guy came up with a new crane and installed it. He said, “I wanted to buy flowers, but better let it be, it still costs the same.”

In stories, idiots are most often met.

The teacher was fired because she was photographed in a swimsuit.

Not for passes, not for professional inadequacy, not for the flagrant violation of safety rules, which entailed irreparable and even not for drunkenness at work. No is.
Photo in the swimsuit.
I don’t know if it is specially stipulated to wear swimsuits and subsequent photography in those in pedagogical universities, whether there are any special prescriptions for teachers in this regard, whether there are professional, teaching models of swimsuits, photo cards in which they are not a crack, whether there is a state commission regulating the length of teaching shirts and the depth of teaching decoltes. I do not have such information.
But I know that many teachers have children. For the majority! Do you understand? No is? Think of it! Children – what are they for? Not from EIS. No No No No! And not in the cabbage they are discovered with a confused look, no matter how you want it! Children, unfortunately and ah - always from sex. Do you understand?
Sex is what? This is a form of shame! Write in writing! The stones! The screams! the sweat! The sperm! Oleg, take my hair! Tanya, I am happy, I am happy, I am happy!! Do you understand?
And then are they teaching the children with these same hands? Do you understand logic?
What an immorality! No swimsuit has stood next to such a devil! They have sex, but they do not have swimsuits at all! It is insane!
And the toilet! They go there and naturally crawl! As long as I am not ashamed! The proud name of the teacher is worn, and themselves at the same time - cacao from the poop. I apologize in the most trivial way. The shit! They are born! Not pearls, not glitters, not even butterflies! And the teachers! And they have sex, and they crack, and when they hit the foot of the table at home with a little bit - they say, "Hah fuck!" They really say!
We should build with them! No to sex! No swimsuits though. No other excesses!
Go out, get out! You are photographing, you know. The shameless ones! This is not Soviet, comrades! It is not for that we went to Kolchak in the Sabbath attack, so that you here later, in the bright future, sex and swimsuits were produced! It was not for this reason that Lazio burned in the ball! Oh you! The shame!

Stupid Americans do not understand that a person named Mueller will not be able to reveal our agent in principle!

Robots are the subject. I have a Chinese version of this monster and it is protective. It has fall sensors from the bottom for the case of the multi-storey of your home and this leads to a situation that would please Nietzsche himself. I don't have a staircase, but there is a carpet in the hall with small areas of black (well, the color is like that). He runs on them, stops intentionally and begins to scream that he will not move from his place because he sees an abyss under him. He, a small round piece of plastic and iron, looks at such a banal thing as a carpet and sees there Great Nothing. Technical support advised to glue the sensors to be white and he is joyfully chasing the carpet. But I know that I blinded him and deprived him of something existentially important.

The state pays its debts the worst.

We have not been friends with television for 10 years. No, from his side, the attitude towards me is very worthy - he often lets me to himself, but - unfortunately, it is not mutual. To see him, and even to exalt myself in him, above my strength. Therefore, most often I hear about what is happening in this amazing world either from my grandfather, or in the form of short clips that the partners drop.
Namely one of them showed me a piece of the show "The Secret Millionaire". I really liked the topic. Compared to the races on sports cars, it is 100 points ahead. I remembered the story of one of my acquaintances:
“My friend, Sergey, was very lucky in the 90s. He chose the right niche of business, plannedly developed, paid where needed, changed the "color" of the roof from blue to red in time, and then at the very beginning of 98 began a deal to sell all assets - decided to leave the business, pack in foreign bonds and live in his pleasure somewhere in the warm regions. By the summer, the deal was closed, the money was withdrawn and successfully invested through foreign banks.
Serega sold out small assets such as houses and distributed things to relatives and friends. I then got a puddle, an antique candlestick for 7 kilograms of silver, and some old Lincoln killed. Before leaving, in early August 1998, Sergey and I decided to sit together with him. The house he has already sold, but by agreement with the owners, today made her "arevoar", from the morning handing over the keys to the owners. I don’t remember how it happened, but we talked about the country. About the same homeland, which we hardly knew with him, because both were born and grew up in Moscow in intelligent families. No, we were in the regions, but it was a “look on Africa from the window of a armored jeep,” nothing more. As alcohol was consumed in Sereg, the desire to get acquainted with the Russian depths was born and strengthened before leaving. The result of this desire was a decisive departure from the house to the heart of Arbat in the direction of the region, despite all my cautions. The new owner left the door open and a note with the keys. How many we traveled with him that night and morning - probably 300-400 kilometers. We went to a small town. “All of. I stay here to live. I will learn to love my country.”
My attempts to understand Sereg in the format "You are waiting in Milan, Switzerland and Barbados" failed to convince him.
I was given the keys of the jeep, written a credential and sent a request to take it "in a couple of months."
Eventually I realized that I needed to give him a couple of days to recover, and left for the capital. But when I returned a few days later, I had difficulty finding Sergei. He, dressed in a telogreek, cut wood in the courtyard of some subordinate man, and sent me back to the capital with his mother. A couple of weeks later, I tried again to get Sergey out of this hole, but this time I found him on the market for the sale of a simple snail, and his manner of trading could be envious of the primadonna of Odessa. Most importantly, Sergey was happy. There was a smile on his face, like a fool, but I knew him too well to recognize the feeling of deep and sincere happiness that he lacked so much in the capital.
Well, then, it was August 17, 1998 and I didn’t have to go to Serega for a long time. Not that it wasn’t before him—no, I remembered him. But being financially literate, I understood that his investment in Eurobonds would be subjected to a minimum drop, that he was a lucky man to look for, and that he separated from all that happiness only one ticket to the capital and one call to the bank. Eight months have passed. It was 1999, the crisis grew, the banks collapsed, people were shot for debt and everything was "like not very". I felt a deep loss. There was a bell in the hallway.
When I saw the unknown bearded man in the eye, I asked, “Who?” He almost fell down when he heard Sereghin’s voice. Opening the door, we fell in each other’s arms. Serena was murdered. From a disgraceful Moscow "boy" he turned into a real Russian man, with the smell of the same and garlic. In his eyes was genuine happiness. Sergey just blossomed, looked tight and the smile did not go down from his face. Leaving the surprise of the encounter, I noticed after him on the staircase cage a modestly wrapped in a sweater slightly pregnant girl, apparently embarrassed to approach.
- Meet me, this is Jan, my wife, we are expecting a child with her.
We sat at the table.
Sergei told me how he lived in the Mouth. First found a corner for small work at home, then began to spin around the little things, using business smart. The legend of him was very honest - a Moscow businessman, quarreled with big people, lost business, housing and can not be closer than 300 km to the capital, otherwise they are buried. The locals, far from the capital realities, and remembering the Soviet 101 kilometers, took everything to faith, especially from the Arbat apartment Serega really was discharged and was no longer written anywhere. Sergey helped the citizens as he could and did not climb anywhere. In the autumn I met Jan, fell in love, moved to her house, played a wedding, and now they are expecting a child.
When I quit smoking, Sergey said:
“Thank you for not giving me up. Jane is nothing now. During this year I thought seriously – I won’t be able to live there. I hear that fucking I will be there. So I decided to stay. I why still decided to return - here the newspaper in the local municipality got - "KommersantЪ". I looked at the courses - now clearly the bottom. We need to take assets. If you want, join me too. I also came up with a scheme - through UBS we place euro bonds, then through Cyprus we pump bubbles here and buy shares. Even with a small shoulder. Then I structure the assets and get a mining package, say, in Lukoil or Sibneft. What an idea? You won't believe, wood when you roll - it doesn't come to mind yet. I advise.

P.S Sergey eventually became a minority of several of the country’s largest companies. I even saw him once in the "list of someone there" with the signature "investor". He didn't tell his wife, he just said that he had found a place and arranged things.

P.S.2 - the citizens who helped him, Sergey also thanked - and wisely. He leased various agricultural machinery or trucks to a partner's company and gave them to the locals free of charge on the terms of a regular TO. You cannot drink - it is not yours, you will not serve - you will be taken. Young talented people in the capital helped to build.

Deputies of Kazakhstan have proposed to rename the new president Kasym-Jomart Tokayev to Nursultan Nazarbayev.

History of long years, even when he studied in the medical university. I have replaced the names and departments for ethical reasons, because of this, I omit the distinctive marks of people, although the description of each of them can flow into a separate story.

We had a terribly harmful teacher Elena, in addition, terrible - chew. A guy from the neighboring stream asked her to take the bill a few days earlier, because the whole family is leaving and he would like to leave with them, and she is not in any, and it's all!

The boy was upset and went to his evening circle for surgery. He was led by a tough, but very insightful Burjong. He looks at Andrew and asks, “Why are you so upset? “” He told his sadness, to which Borjong said, "Come to her tomorrow at the department and try to give up again."

This time Elena welcomed Andrei with open arms: "Why didn't you immediately say that you have such difficulties? 』 He counted on one breath.

Andrei joyfully comes to Borjon and asks, what happened to the "beautiful" Elena, why has she changed so much? Borjon smiled and said, “Let no one beat her! »

I have not seen greater self-sacrifice for my students.

Recently in Peter taxi drivers very actively began to use the fact that when concluding a car rental agreement and its violation, the police shoot off the victims. Law enforcement officers are referred to civil-legal relations. There are no penalties in their opinion. Understand it yourself.

Cases where drivers do not pay rent are not counted. Just come, throw the car, the keys on the wheel and goodbye, or more precisely, say goodbye. The box is also empty. Sometimes they try to steal the car, or give it to dismantle. According to the police, this is self-government. We gave the car at our disposal.

Here and another driver, having accumulated debts of 15 thousand, struck a car without gasoline, dirty, to look disgusting. Yes, even without a phone.

Why did I go so far? I know this man for two years. Naturally, when he asked for delayed payments, I allowed without talking. A familiar one! How not to help... A shit with money? Buy a rental today for 0 rubles.

In general, he disappeared, does not respond to the calls, the spouse first said that he was alive and healthy, will definitely call again, and then began to send us.

It was offensive. I’m human, and he... well, his choice.

I had to go to law enforcement and persuade them for a long time that the theft of the phone and non-payment of the rental is a planned fraud based on abuse of personal relationships. I knew him for a long time, and the contractor two years ago has not thrown out yet.

And the T-DAM! organs are aroused.

They found the perpetrator and brought him.

I wanted everything back, the driver said, just no money at all. And I once, and printing orders. He had money.

The phone was lost, theft was not gathered, he said. And I once, and I show the geolocation. She is right in his house.

Like a cherry cheese - while the taxi driver's wife took the phone to the office, the taxi driver himself promised me, sorry, to fuck. The result: the measure before the court - arrest, he threatened the victim.

In general, the man sat off for 4 months without a small and was released on condition. And all because of some damn 25 thousand, which if you wish I could earn in two weeks. It’s a good reputation to the hell, but it’s a puppy for him.

The debt returned.

Ten years ago I was with friends in Euphoria. Just then, by a long-standing habit, went to exchange money to the market and not to the bank - the rate is more advantageous. He exchanged hryvnia with a local Tatar and went on business. An hour later, after recounting the money, he realized that more than half was missing, was upset and began to "pull off" the time back, remembering all the transactions with money. When I remembered everything, I came to the conclusion that I was thrown to change at the bazar. He changed so - a fairly large amount, 900 hryvnia, issued small notes of 10 and 20 hryvnia (this surprised me - why the exchange gives, but did not warn). When he gave me the money I recounted with him and it was not enough 10 hryvnia, changed took the money, recounted them, confirmed that I was wrong, 10 hryvnia and returned a package. I put it in my pocket and left. Apparently, when recounting, he completely unnoticed for me took about half a thick pack of banknotes.

I went with two friends, Leah and Misha, to the market with a change to talk. I was terribly depressed that I was deceived as a baby and didn’t want to believe it. They went into the market and immediately came to the offender. Misha began to hit him on the go, I insecurely accused him of cheating, and Lecha merged somewhere, which made me very upset. Tatarin saw doubts on our side and popped in the counterattack: "Yes, you tempted me to blame me! You will answer for it! I’ll call serious guys now and you’ll really regret it!” (All this in other, more appropriate words) We and Misha have already begun to squeeze and here, from wherever you go, Lecha appears and as popper on a swing with threats, pushes and raids! Changed his back to give back into the space between the larks threatening us with a punishment, the degree of tension sharply increased... He grabbed the phone with a scream "Kids you, guys will come and cut you! " I threw up possible problems and thought that the stolen money was not worth it, Miha also doubted, but Lohah was perched like a tank! And here, as soon as the change was caught between the bars, he changed dramatically literally in everything - stopped shaking hands and threatening us and said in a quiet calm voice: "OK guys, how much do I owe you?" To say that I was surprised – nothing to say...))

Having received our money back, we quickly left the market and walked the streets joyfully discussing what had happened. And of course, we asked Lech where he dropped in the beginning when he was supposed to be with us. And Losha calmly replied, "Well where did you, fools, immediately use nothing without knowing? While you were mourning like macacos with this breeder, I approached my grandmother, who traded seeds, and asked if the deceiver was this guy and whether he was giving back the stolen stuff. The grandmother confirmed that he threw and gave the money if "just laugh!"

This is what actual intelligence means. The young man, of course, is lazy))

The whole trouble of the former republics of the USSR lies in the fact that most of them want to have sovereignty, but at the same time to be a subsidy region of Russia.

The State Duma adopted in the third, final reading the law on the indexation of pensions above the subsistence minimum. This is a “good” topic. The only question is who gets pensions below the subsistence minimum? I know one category of such citizens by duty of service. These are persons serving criminal sentences. Those who have worked, then mostly in the camp (not pioneering), naturally not quite voluntarily. There was no time when he stole, drank, went to prison for romance. Per this category includes those who are employed informally, even those who receive a "grey salary". In general, those who barely replenish the pension fund. But about raising pensions for those who worked for 35-40 years, I have not heard. In essence, the law is reduced to the equalization of the clowns with the workers. Yes, I’m cynical, but not as much as our compulsively respected government.