No matter how many times you have fallen. It matters to what level you have been able to get up.

So, imagine a semi-empty route slowly plotting through the streets of the city. At the stop comes a pretty, in my opinion, thirty-year-old woman. I will not describe her in detail, I will say briefly - everything with her. And after her, a man of about the same age jumps up with a large and, apparently, heavy bag. The route crashed sharply, and by inertia this man went forward to the same woman and stood on her foot. “Well, you’re like an elephant,” she said, “can’t you be more careful?” The man looked at her with guilty eyes and apologized. But she didn’t say, “I had to keep up.”
And then this man said the words in which he tried to put the maximum of pain and sorrow: "Woman, but you saw that I was not intentionally, especially that I apologized to you, well, what else should I do to make you calm?“”
I personally expected any response from her at that moment, but even me, with my innate cynicism and soldier’s rudeness, could not come to mind what a female mind is capable of. So are you ready?
What, get married to me.
The driver stopped the bus, and there was a grave silence in the cabin. Even the five-year-old girl who sat behind me and whispered something all the way, remained silent. It lasted for a minute or so. (I would like to note that there was not even a hint on the woman’s face at the time.) And now I can’t stand it anymore (well, how without me), I say:
“Listen, man, you answer something, look, the audience is waiting.
He looked at me, then all of us, turned his eyes at the woman and said:
I’m coming next, are you with me?
“Yes,” she answered with a loud voice.
and bravo! I shouted, and the whole route without any team began to applaud.
They really went out at the next stop, and I heard her hand on the exit, she said, “My name is Ludmila.”
The doors closed...

I don’t understand why so many protein organisms around want to have a football team that you can be proud of. Do they not want to be proud of advanced science, world-competitive education, advanced and affordable medicine? After all, it would make our lives much more colorful than football.

xxx: Alpha-PVP (this is the salt) is a hard thing. If you hear from someone this word - run and try to make sure that person does not fall into your field of sight - never. It is the same electrode in the center of pleasure that involves the rats until they die of dehydration and hunger. Heroin addicts with experience say that this is “the road to hell.”



PVP or Sassal?! to



Zzz: Why is it so funny?

The Constitution has been changed, but heaven is not.

I climb up to the roof of a 9-story house to fix the antenna and fall into a stupor - on the very edge of the roof an uncertain suicide guy stands. He notices me, but does not show sight. Okay, I go away, get the phone, turn on the camera, ask:
Because of the grandmother?
Yes, he responds with shame.
“Well, go,” I say, “I’ll take a picture, and she’ll look at your brains.
A minute of confusion, and then with the words, "But fuck her," - the guy tears and proudly departs.
Not my day... This video broke up)))

Three people stand in Paradise and see through the fence the devil of the sinner dragging into hell.
And the sinner rests and says, “Do not dare, I am a hero of labor!”! to
Three come closer and one asks, "Dearest man, why are you dragging this to hell? He is a hero of work, just like us, and we need him to go to heaven.”
The devil is a hero, not that. When and why did you receive your awards?
The first was I in 1944, for evacuating for 16 hours without exit weapons for the front to protect the homeland.
The second - and I in 1950, for what after the Great Motherland was restored.
Third - and I in 1961, for working at the CB together in Kraljev.
That’s why you’re all in heaven. In 2022, he was paid for selling his homeland. In hell, only in hell.

I once sat in a drug clinic to get a certificate of rights. There my aunt was sitting with my son and showing me told about the horrors of drug addiction, but in the future I did not give up and sat down on the pitch)

I once bought a man in a car smell in the form of a fish, and the smell turned out to be just disgusting, sharp chemous. We tortured for a couple of days and her husband hid her in a mess. It smells anyway. Okay, they were thrown out. Since the cultural - thrown houses into the cage. It smells to the whole apartment! The man went in the middle of the night to take a can of garbage into the rubbish pipeline. In the evening on the other day we come back from work, we enter the entrance, looked around and such in one voice: "RHYBKA!.." Three days later, the smell stood on the stairs until the garbage was taken out.

I climb up to the roof of a 9-story house to fix the antenna and fall into a stupor - on the very edge of the roof an uncertain suicide guy stands. He notices me, but does not show sight. Okay, I go away, get the phone, turn on the camera, ask:

Because of the grandmother?

Yes, he responds with shame.

“Well, go,” I say, “I’ll take a picture, and she’ll look at your brains.

A minute of confusion, and then with the words, "But fuck her," - the guy tears and proudly departs.

Not my day... This video broke up)))

As a student, he brought to the class two completely identical round expander, but their similarity in appearance and ended - one was very light, the other - could be compressed by force no more than 10 times.



There was no pre-created insidious plan, it arose on the move, when a classmate (athlete, fighter) offered to compete. Immediately outlined the conditions - who will last longer, repeating one after another the compression of the expander.



The result is obvious, isn’t it? Immediately after my victory followed the exposure of the foundation – it was painful to watch a man who thought he was strong enough to break down.

One day, I go out from the corner of the house, and on the outing of the basement sits a gorgeously beautiful cat - furry, colored, like a siamese, the eyes are blue in half-face... I say to him so from the heart - "Well, what a beautiful you are!" The man who stood next to me smoking, surprised looking at me...Damn, the man I didn’t notice...

I once had a bar. Well, sometimes at the beginning of the shift I stood up for the DJ controller. There is no one yet (at night). I worked with a girl then as an officer, a pipet, all such a devout, right stereotypical nun, you will never hear a matte word from her, shorter than Mother Teresa. Well, here, I sit behind the controller, playing all kinds of music. I play loud. Here she quietly approaches me from the back, bends over her shoulder and pronounces, “Dolb**b.” I, slowly, scaryly, slowly turn my head, simultaneously twisting the volume to zero and so upset: What? and silence. And she repeats with a smile: Who sings?

Pharaoh gave the high priest the title of Hero of slave-owned labor.

Today at the entrance. A little girl comes out of school and calls the cellphone.
Who is there? Respond to a female voice.
Delivery of Five!

It was in the USSR that the title of a hero was given to anyone who got it - workers, collective farms, miners, soldiers, but in present-day Russia - to their own, proven billionaires.

There was a date with a man, he has a way of talking - to object to every sentence and tell how to do everything correctly. It was funny, like he asks, “Do you like coffee?I said, “Yes,” he said, “Why not tea? Here you are wrong, tea will be better, it is more useful.” Or asks, “Do you like the automatic box in the car?“I like to say, he says, “No, the machine is full of hernia, it is impossible to ride on it, you know what you are saying at all.” How is it possible to disagree with the feeling of “likes” or “does not like”?

Sometimes he arranged a combo and began to object, not even listening. Asked what soup I like to cook, I began to answer, only said about chicken, interrupted and began to explain that it is necessary to mix different meats, he knows how to correctly, I need to pay attention to his stories and record.



He finally got it when he asked, “Tell me about your last relationship, why did you break up?” I only had time to say, "In general, everything was good, but...", he sharply interrupted me, said, "A, well, I understand, but here I have...." and started complaining about my ex-wife, who had the greed to be dissatisfied that he came from work every evening.

After that, I was tired of trying to break into this monologue with questions purely so that he could move on to the topic he wanted, and collapsed. The emotional feeling of something heavy was then from this communication, as if after some pressure or aggressive behavior.

So I had such a situation. I buy a cupcake from my grandmother in the market. Money only 5000. I give a bill. He says: No surrender, I will come, I will exchange. She took the money. I stand and wait. 10 minutes. 20 minutes. After half an hour, I realized I was dropped. And on the box there was a gram of 400 cucumbers and a couple of packs of cabbage, rubles for 500. He took what was there and went home. At least it was delicious. But the grandmother of Pidar-si is old.

This story was told to me by my wife’s aunt, who from the late 1980s to the middle of the 2000s worked as a tram driver in Moscow.

From the 1st person.

In the mid-1990s. I go by tram, Saturday, late evening, winter, wild ice. And here I see a truck running across my side from the mountain. Probably couldn’t get in, it turned and pulled.

I hit the brakes, turned on the signal, but I still understand that our trajectories will cross.

The sound of broken glass. The tram goes off the rails and stops.

I go to the salon. There are a couple of frightened landers, no injuries.

I went out on the street. The driver runs out of the truck, runs to me and begins to read.

Thank you, thank you very much! Oh how lucky I was! What would it be if not you.

Why thank you for that? Gai will be full of you now. You will also replace your truck at your own expense. If I had stopped earlier, I might not have struck.

Better in you than there. He showed where he was heading.

And there is a restaurant with a parking lot of 600 graces and all kinds of Grand Cherokee.

OSAGO did not exist then, and ordinary people did not drive such cars. The truck driver was really lucky.

One day, my friend and I quit drinking/smoking to run a marathon in a year. They started to work hard, run, watch food. Results are wasted. After half a year, we ran 30 km through the crossed terrain without any problems. Down there, up there. Well, once our comrade, a drunk alkas, who drank vodka for breakfast, decided to run with us the standard route of 6 km. We laughed, but we took him with us. Corche, this guy ran 6km in 24 minutes, against my best score at 28. Sport is shit.