In the 2000s there was an event:

Grandma went on mushrooms in the forest and got a good harvest of all mushrooms.

Arriving home, she prepared everything and finished preserving, moved to the basement, but after using the finished products, she stinked and died of a covid poisoning.

The relatives and friends with neighbors who came to the dining, took out of the cellar mushrooms for snacks.

4 buried, 10 in resuscitation!

The consumer basket will cease to be expensive if you add a little ammunition to the list of products of the first necessity.

At the time, the An-12 was flying with the boarding number of the USSR-11111, and the calling airfield of Salehard - "Virgo".
Flight 11111 approaches Salekhard:
Virgin, take five sticks per night.
The crew disappeared...

The political lifehack.
You are not afraid of economic sanctions if you do not have an economy.

It was 10 years ago, in one very popular electronics store in Silicon Valley (Fry's - who knows now slid). I bought some shit there for $24.99 (whether it was a flash or a cable). I am going to pay by credit. Suddenly the electricity is cut off. The management of the store begins to rush, saying the cash casinos do not work, say only cash. Okay, I get my wallet. There is a tax on the goods, and not a simple, but 8.25%. The cashier calls the manager. The manager makes a calculation. And then the circus begins:



M: 24.99 * 8.25?

I: Are you completely crazy?

M: 24.99 * 0.825?

I: Well let’s go so :-)

M: 20.62, not so can not be...

We must not multiply, but divide.

I: So let’s go!



At this time in a loud voice: "Today in the store a grand sale, discount 8.25%!"

My brother was the third child in the family. My mother brought it from the birthplace and turned it. He was long, but very thin. The eyes are round like the sows and the nose with a fifth.

We stand – I, Mom and Dad. The father looks at the son, then turns to his mother: "Something, Nadia, they get worse and worse with us every time! “”

My mother still remembers that phrase.

XXX: At the expense of the lightning ball. Probably nonsense, but in our country after a strong storm a glass in the window broke. A round hole of cm 6 in diameter with paved edges. To imagine that lightning food we could never.



YYY: Probably the AT-AT passed by and the crew fired a single shot from a turbo-laser gun, leaving a hole in the window. Apparently you are hiding in the dacha of the survivors after the cleansing of the Mandalorians, who, using the armor made of the bescar, managed to repel the shot. The Imperial Security Service has already advanced to you, do not leave the house, do not resist. Refusal to cooperate with the Empire is punished with death.



zzz: This version looks more convincing.

Sometimes after a person says, “Know me right!"He begins to carry nonsense and wild.

I will try to put two stories in one, because, as it turned out, they are very closely intertwined and influenced the life and worldview of two generations. And the third - (I) got out in the background, I try to tell you.
When we moved to live in a house and joyfully digged in the garden, Dad (namely, he initiated the move from apartment to house) never took a spade in his hands. When we tried to call him, we heard the same story: I already accumulated my own, my parents have a huge garden, only under the potatoes more than 20 acres, and plant more and more. First we plant, dye, gather bushes, collect potatoes, store (there were several warehouses), then we pick up until the moisture. In the end, most of it is thrown away. And then everything is new! Martyshkin's work, and why all this, but the father can't convince. Sage and all.
To some extent, I’ve heard this story. Usually after a trip to the village to his father, he observed the fact: the garden became larger. His two brothers were also surprised by this, but the older one pulled in and went to hunt the garden, perceiving it as a fresh air loading.
The second story is about Grandpa. To understand his life: in 1940 he went to the army. Soon the war began. But since he was a vision disabled from childhood, he was not sent to the front. They made him glasses with a lens thick in a centimeter (with them he went through his whole life) and sent to the Uralmash factory in Sverdlovsk. In Uralmache he eventually worked until his retirement. During the war, the factory made tanks. The shifts were up to 18 hours a day, sleeping right at the machines on wooden boxes. Moreover, the workshop did not stop the work, did not pay attention to the noise, just fell out of fatigue and hunger, so as not to waste energy on the way home. There was hunger from the very beginning and until the end of the war, grandfather almost died of hunger, and once after receiving a package of food from relatives from the village, he got a bowel wrench. He went to the hospital, there was lucky - healed and fed a little better.After the war with his wife built a house on the edge of geography, far beyond the city in a village near the swamps. Nearby lived relatives with whom he and his wife lived during the construction of the house: they themselves cut the bars and dragged on themselves. There was nothing, it was hungry and heavy. Then three sons were born, one of whom was my father.
All these stories I have heard, compared and thought many times. I remembered my grandfather, we communicated little, but from all this communication and all the information about him in general, I came up with the following: he was absolutely normal, if not counting the hobby of the garden. Therefore, somehow these words did not fit in the head. But the warehouses under the food I saw myself, including two practically in the forest.
Grandfather was gone and once dad again began to remember him and the garden: - Yes, you can live a whole year on the harvest, and in the spring everything was rotten and thrown away.
Here my puzzle began to fold. But to check the guesses, I began to clarify: and when did grandfather first start to increase the garden?
When my older brother went to town, he got married. And we are crawling here, we are crawling even more.
And then then?
And then when my second brother got married and left, I left alone for everyone. And then when my first niece was born...I understood everything!
War and famine affected my grandfather. Apparently, in order to be prepared for everything, he calculated how many foods a person needs to live a year and stockpiled. With the birth of a new member of the family, the reserves increased proportionally. He didn’t explain anything to anyone, just silently did something that could save the lives of his children, grandchildren and grandchildren, suddenly a war or disaster.
We uncovered the mystery of the garden, sad that it was so late.

The son brought his future wife to meet his mother for the first time. Everyone was silent for a long time, and the grandmother spoke first:
Enzo for not praying.

At a student party, a guy looked at me. He looked very carefully. I shot through the crowd. He shot too.

He “unexpectedly” came near and also suddenly said, “I’m married. A great party!” The man talked.

I fell into a precipitation. I am 17. I want love. He has 25 in sight. Of course he is married. Who will leave such a treasure alone? I, deciding not to go into the details of his marital life, just evaporated in the student crowd. I didn’t need those problems. Yes, and the married guy understood my hint immediately too. It evaporated, as it appeared... a flag in your hands, a drum on your neck, as they say.

A few weeks later, I learned that his name was Janet. The name is Kazakh.

My close friend fell in love, straight to madness. The woman was a noble manipulator, exposing the culprits, filling her lips, ruining the evening to everyone, sitting with a curved face and demonstrably bloating the nostrils. A classic of female hysteria.

And here a friend calls, in confusion, the lady wanted to rest, and a friend before the vacation for many months, contrary to the reproach she collected things and silenced, shouting loudly "I am at the airport looking for another." A friend asks, says what to do, tired of hysterics arranging. I offered to come to us with my husband, order pizza, beer, watch a movie. He came to us, we sat down, wrote a text message “why didn’t you come?” “why do I sit here now?” “I just left, and not quite” “You fool take me, what do I do to go back at night?”

And we what? They turned off the phone and had a great time, she didn't have tickets, she sat there, took out the remains of things a couple of days later and with the screams "you will never find one" disappeared from his life.

The cousin was supposed to have a wedding this weekend, but just wrote that everything is cancelled, there will be no wedding.



I decided to clarify what happened and overall the story is banal.





A couple of years ago he met a girl, about a year began to live together, he rented an apartment, she moved to him. But since you will not live forever on the seat, you have saved on your own, almost accumulated, but a little before the wedding did not have time. Initially planned a small wedding, but the girl and future aunt were able to convince that you need to know everyone and all, the wedding only once in life, and the apartment part of the wedding gifts will be closed, and part can be borrowed.



The affairs and the apartment were chosen and even the task was left, and after the wedding they had to subdue all the finances and finish the deal.





Preparation for the wedding in its course goes too, including invitations such as beautiful, part personally transported him, brought me, parents and grandfather including.



But if I only congratulated and promised to come, then my grandfather asked me, and how do I plan to buy an apartment, heard the answer about gifts and credit for the rest and said.



"Our grandson, that you will be connected with banks and interest, I put off the last years for funerals, and the sale of the plot remained, let me give you everything as a gift, you will make a surprise to your wife, you will bring it straight from the crown to your apartment, but if I go out before I accumulate again, then you are a normal tomb, not a box under an orange)".





He naturally agreed, said he really wanted to make a surprise to his wife, completed the deal, bought the apartment, even a small cosmetic repair in a couple of weeks he hired a familiar brigade to wrap up.





He says, “You know, I don’t know how to keep secrets especially well, here and then it happened that I slept yesterday in a conversation with my wife on the topic of the deal that nothing will need to be done, everything has already been bought. All I expected, but not that she would mourn me for almost an hour without ceasing to hysterize about the fact that I deceived her, that her mother was right, that she spent a few years on me in vain. Then I rushed to call my mom while I was sitting in shock, where I also wept what a goat. She returned and demanded that after the marriage, the half be rewritten on her so that she "would be confident and protected and could peacefully leave in a decree."



Well, then I did not understand this requirement and word for word collected her bags and sent it to my mother.



And in the evening with my grandfather I spoke and told him this, I thought he would be surprised, and he replied, "Well, it is not in vain that I took the risk that I was in a box of oranges" and I understood that he was already when the money was giving me such an option and that's why I gave them."





In general, they may, of course, still be reconciled, but the grandfather, the potential niece, is unlikely to love, but he thinks about it.

We cleaned the snow with our grandchildren in the garden. The oldest, 14 years old, cleans the roof of the barracks on his own. My 5 year old son and I clean the roads. The roads are cleaned, the grandson is still in need. They cleaned the entrances. Yet too little.

While I was thinking about what else to clean, my grandson began to throw the snow out of the roof onto the trail. I started cleaning off the road, for which I got an excuse from my grandson:

“Dad, do you think I’m throwing snow for you? ! to

“I don’t know,” I replied, “but do I have to clean it?

I’m not for you, I’m throwing snow for myself. Now I will scatter and clean it all.

And indeed, he shrugged a little more, gathered everything, and asked home: it was frozen.

I was very young, 2 or 3. On the way from the army, Daddy Brother came to us. And my mom decided to leave me with him for a couple of hours and go somewhere for business. My uncle went to the toilet. I closed it out there on a spongyard. And I run into the hall, excited by my heroic deed, I shut the door from all the way. It closed tightly. As I did not try to open it, it did not work. Further from Mom’s words. She comes. My brother is knocking in the toilet. There is a strong smell in the room. I cried, wept, wrapped myself in the newspaper and fell asleep on the floor.

Our world has become different. If earlier in the threatened period, the population actively purchased salt, soap and flashbacks, then now - the money stamps of the likely enemy.

A little about coffee.
At the fifth course (1997), to increase my financial well-being, I arranged through my friends to work in Moscow for the Chibo coffee campaign. I never drank coffee before, treated it neutral, well, working there - does not mean drinking it.
I was taken as a merchandiser, the task included controlling the availability of coffee in the stores, the correct arrangement on the shelves, if possible - attracting new stores to distribute this coffee. Chibo knew only that it was German coffee — and nothing more. Six months before this, he was on an internship in Germany, travelled somehow to Dresden, walked there along the shores of the Elbe, where he was surprised to learn that on the slopes of the southern exhibition in the Elbe valley there are seemingly the northernmost vineyards in Europe...
The site for which I was responsible was located in the Krylatsky area, including the beginning of the Rublev Highway. It was here, near the intersection with Krylatskaya Street, that I discovered somehow, while on a free hunt for new shops, the gastronomy "Ezhik". He attracted me with his name, and also wanted to warm up a little (it was October). has entered. With an eye-catching look, he appreciated that "our" coffee is not for sale, but the store is nice, the order is round - there is a chance to lure it into our networks. He asked to bring me to the shop manager, said, I am in the business. I was taken to a small office, packed with cabinets with documents, in the middle - two tables, behind them are sitting two men aged 40 years. I say that I am from the Cibo coffee campaign, I distribute our product, I offer to buy and sell good German Cibo coffee from us, we offer Cibo Families, Milds, Mockas and the coolest – Cibo Exclusive. One of the men suddenly stumbled – German coffee! I say :
Yes from Germany.
Men, almost not a chorus:
Does it grow right there?! to
Here I grew up a little... I don’t drink coffee, I don’t know anything about it, where it grows there – on beds or on trees – I don’t know, while I worked somehow and didn’t think about it. But nothing to do, the main thing is to squeeze the goods!
Yes, I say, it’s right there and it grows!
Men roast: coffee only in the southern countries, go away from here, have had fun for the whole day!
- German coffee grows on the slopes of the southern exhibition in the valley of the Elbe, in the vicinity of Dresden, there it has enough sun on the edge, so it has a very specific taste, but in general - a pleasant drink, highly valued in Europe, finally reached us. Near the coffee plantations are also the northernmost vineyards in Europe, you, as a merchant, should know about them!
The men were silent. The detailed information led them to some confusion: hz, maybe there and really these Germans brought something new... At the prices of coffee acceptable, the packaging is beautiful... They say, let us now make a trial order, see how it goes, we will discuss everything with the management and if it goes – we will take. I filled up the papers and went with them.
The day after 3 was the delivery of coffee to "Ezhik", and after 3-4 days I decided to go to them, see how the different varieties were displayed and offer to place according to our rules. I go to the store. Our coffee stands on a separate showcase, in the right order (recommendations on arrangement to the first delivery were attached), all the way, it’s not for nothing. I ask the cashier how they get. She says that well, the product is new, everyone likes, take, young man, you will not regret. I say it’s me who supplies it. Here my aunt surprised me sharply: hearing this, she immediately stumbled at the whole store somewhere inside the store: "Nicolas, Vasya, he came, go faster!!!". I was more frightened by this reaction than surprised, I think I need to tear my nails before it is too late. But I didn’t have time. The old merchants rushed and put me under their hands in their closet cabinet. They sat on a chair at the end of the table far from the entrance, one was left to guard me, the other went out somewhere right away. But I did not even have time to ask what was going on, as he has already returned, but not alone, but with a tall elderly Armenian. “Here, Armene Wachtagovich, that’s him!” Armene Wachtagovich looked at me for a few moments with some astonishment, then also sat down and got a bottle of cognac from somewhere. The second merchant sat next to me and so they almost surrounded me. "Well, let's drink for the German coffee Chibo, growing on the shores of the Elbe of the southern exhibition," Armén said unexpectedly and all were poured. Despite the fact that I did not drink, I had to apply, because to understand what is happening, I still could not.
Will you order coffee again? I asked to ask something.
The German? I asked the merchant.
“Yes, German, from the shores of the Elbe,” I answered firmly, and imagined a bottle of cognac flying into my head.
Here, these three were roasted, with the merchants almost in one voice, and Armene with a pleasant whisper of a wise man. They rolled on their chairs, beat their hands on the table, pointed to me with their hands and couldn’t stop! I sat, not understanding anything, and knocked my eyes. Then Armene calmed down and said, “Vasily, tell him, he doesn’t understand anything!”
He, with difficulty restrained, said the following. When I first came to them and started pushing coffee, they almost decided to send me. There were many such walks, and I was the fourth to offer them something that day. But they were caught up with German coffee, which, as they knew, does not grow in Germany. But I gave the details of growing, say, geographically unique coffee, and they were a little doubtful about their knowledge. I decided to try and figure out what sort of one this is. After I left, they called Armene (here it turned out that he was the store manager) and told him about the offer. The Armenians laughed at them from the heart (German coffee!), but they told him about the shores of the Elbe of the southern exhibition... They sent someone to the neighboring store for a package of Chibo exclusive, cooked, tried. I liked it, but how could it be from Germany? In short, almost until the morning they first tried to find some information about Chibo on the Internet (and he was very slow and did not work ahti), called friends from other shops, at two nights came to some base to the Koreans, where they were told where he was brought and where he was packed, what was in his composition, etc. During this time, they drank two bottles of cognac and fell asleep in the morning at the office.
No coffee grows anywhere in Germany and has never grown there. Your Chibo is made from Arabica and Robusta that grow in South America, Africa and Asia! In Russia it appeared two years ago (in 1995), and only so few people know about it and you were able to swallow our brains!
They told me a long time about coffee, about its varieties, how and where it grows, where it is made... It feels like they have grown significantly as coffee specialists over that night. And I learned more about coffee during that lecture than before and after... Armene remembered that night, too. He probably hasn’t been involved in such an intellectual drive for a long time to find out what a passing student is trying to do to them... In any case, we broke up very well, and I left with a big order for a new coffee.
I worked in the coffee company for six months, I appeared in "Ezhik" about once a week, and every time my aunt at the box shouted "Nicolas, Vasya, he came!" - and we, waiting for Armene, went to the cabinet to drink, who coffee, who brandy, who coffee with cognac. It was then that I tried coffee, although I became addicted to it later, 2 years later, under different conditions. After I defended my diploma and left the company, for two years I occasionally appeared when I ran past them, but then the store closed and it seemed that the system of gastronomists "Ezhik" disappeared. At least I did not meet them again. Unfortunately, they had the most delicious German coffee from the slopes of the southern exhibition from the valley of the Elbe!

The evil tongues claim that the casino in Monaco has an advertisement in Russian:
Heroes of Labor of Russia are served in general order.

Five years ago, I visited Disneyland with my family. By night, when it was dark, we ran to the toilet. The male was relatively free, but the female formed a decent line. I am standing on the side, waiting for my husband. Suddenly I noticed that there was a man in the line to the women’s toilet. After standing quietly for five minutes, he suddenly began to look around somewhat faintly and finally asked the ladies who stood with him something. I did not hear the question, but I heard a friendly laugh, after which the guy quickly left the line. Later, the wife, laughing, told me that the guy asked, “Which attraction is this line?”

He was with me in Leroy. It’s summer, it’s hot, we’re in line to cut off the board. As always, there are no specialists, the turn of 10 people, we have been waiting for an hour. And here enters the grandmother with the windsurf and says, "Let it go without a turn! » I’m not a ham, but I asked, “Are we here for a joke? Stand in line, like everyone else, and wait.”

And here it came:

You and Ham, young man! I am a sick man, I am sick. Miss it!

With all my respect, but if you’re not well, what hell are you standing behind the boards? A woman with a child has been standing for an hour.

How are you...! Yes I...! You are...!

Those kinds of people