After the wedding, on all my birthday, my aunt constantly gave me that set of kitchen utensils, the tea service for six people. All this she gave me with the words:
“Well, you need a young family, if you don’t like it, give it to your wife.”
I won’t say it annoyed me so much, but I decided to mock her a bit in response, and gave her a set of screws for her anniversary with the words:
“If you don’t like a gift, give it.”
The rays of hatred from my aunt’s eyes almost burned me through. Since then, she has stopped giving any kitchen utensils.

The man who promised not to raise taxes for small, not to change the Constitution, not to raise the retirement age, the people promised lifelong security guarantees and the seat of a senator.

I had one tourist who was always late and the whole bus was waiting for her. Once again I found her, I drive her to the bus and I say, you understand how the whole bus is angry with you? What she answered:

I am a lonely woman, for me negative attention is also attention!

Xxx: You stand, you do, you smoke, you look at the night sky and you think: the space above you is so huge that you are in the background of it - a bacterium simply. Moreover, this space is filled with billions of fireballs around which sometimes rotates stone or gas balls. They are mostly empty and there is no life on them. There may be somewhere, but it is such a shit rarity that nihua is not a pattern, but rather a statistical anomaly.



All this incredible machina is constantly changing, moving, and you in it are just a coincidence. The mouth of moisture. It’s funny, but yes, it’s from humidity. You and your entire human civilization are a mistake of nature. And your planet, too, because there are very few such planets. And the systems that are there.



99 whole and you know how many hundred percent of the space of the universe is not adapted for you. You will die there without delay. There is a vacuum, there is no ambient temperature, there is gamma-alpha-beta radiation. There are blue supergiants that emit so much energy that you can shake it out by just imagining it. There are black holes inside which singularity, which is generally a mathematical abstraction. There are distances at which the question "how far?" The question is “how long ago?” This is not all for you. This is the most hostile environment to your weak body.



You will also die. Zhvanetsky has recently died, Jigarhanyan has died and you will die. And soon that there are still years 50-60 in the best case. This is a moment for the universe. Don’t wait for it, it was cancelled. Of course, there is no God. And this world does not exist for you – otherwise it would not have been so arranged. And there is no meaning either – the universe does not understand the word “meaning.” She is not able to understand at all. You could have died ten years ago. I could never be born. That would not change anything.



Someone is creating art. It drives science. It enters its name into history in other available ways. Whoever is unable to do so (and most of them) simply gives birth to children and says that this is the main meaning of life. To appear, to exist for a moment, to “appear” the next one, that he too would exist for a moment. And all this carousel without meaning, purpose and any other high and noble vector.



And you start clinging to all kinds of religions, theories, ideas. Because in the form in which it all seems to be without them, it is heroic somehow. So much to get out of the balcony. The heights should be enough. Does it make sense to pull? To pull, to suffer, to grieve, to worry about all the shit.



And you say to yourself that it is not possible that the very existence of reason is accidental. Or maybe it was just for that? Well, how does a chemist mix large amounts of reagents to get a small sediment – so does the universe? It is such a big cage, and we are the same precipice? Well, not myself, of course, but life in general. A unique hernia. And then you kill the fly and you understand - but for her, it's just over. and? What would be the meaning of her, flies, life? No in anything.



And we too. We build, we develop, we fight, we heroize, we experience emotions, we write, we draw, etc., and then a few hundred years have passed. Oh, it turns out about us in a history textbook - one small page and then 80% shit. Oh, again, and a couple of thousand years have passed – that is, we are now an extinct civilization?! What about our values? What about our unique culture? In the sense of a beer bank and a fantasy from the Gondon in the museum - all that remains?!! Oh, again, and the sun is already shining. Or a meteorite. And there is nothing left. As if it did not exist.

The girl with the light bullets didn’t touch me at five, seven, nine, as did the brutal fairy tales of the makeup brothers.

But the encyclopedia about the space of the years at seven on the unfortunate brain of such a shock suggested that I was hysterical in the blanket, and the whole family reassured me.

Yyy: The existential crisis, how small are we in the universe?

Xxx: It all started with the fact that the sun will one day burn, swell, and then crumble into a dwarf. I was extremely upset, and then my aunt, trying to encourage me, said that by this moment we will all die for many thousands of years.

Well, then it came to pass that the land was a kajak, and we were a kajak, and we were flying, the hell knows where, like a bunch of dust and it became scary.

My mother was a well-deserved donor of our country. Her blood was quite rare - 4 groups. Once, I remember, she was even sent by helicopter at night to some small town to rescue a child.

Parents always joked about the topic that my mom has the fourth blood group, and my dad has the first.

So here.

At a biology class at 7 a biologist offered to donate a drop of blood in order to determine the group. I was not scared, and it turned out that I had 4 groups, like my mom. It was also revealed (from the table) that parents with 1 and 4 blood groups cannot have a child with 4 blood groups.

I went home and began to torture my parents about who my real dad and mom are.

The parents were in shock, there was a small scandal. DNA testing was not as available then as it is now.

My father was sent to donate blood.

He has two blood types.

Everyone breathed out with relief.

And who only appoints these rogue governors?

Simple and genius.

Approximately once a week a friend recruits a team of young guys to unload/load cars in the warehouse. He is given a certain amount, he recruits three from the category of 25-30 years and five 16-17, because among them there are more willing (and they are willing to work for a smaller amount). Also sometimes among them appears a young girl, looking like the same 16 years old. Not to say that she has a strong body, but tries to work equally with everyone, except that she is usually left with lighter objects. I once after loading asked her what motivated her to go here, because the girls are not especially in the loads. It turned out that the organizer himself offered it to her, and also paid up as the senior age category. I did not ask a friend about this, but a few weeks later I noticed one pattern, and then I got to it.

In general, in those days when this girl comes out, the performance of teenagers increases almost twice, and the team takes 40 minutes less time to work. Great, and most importantly, everyone is happy.

I’m embarrassed to ask... After Miller and Sechin extremely effectively drove Gazprom and Rosneft to huge losses, the world’s oil and gas outlets will craving these two titans a little less? Can they cut their salary?

The year 1998. I serve in the ranks of the Russian Federation. Despite the title of ordinary, I go to the guard as a breeder, because of the excellent knowledge of the statutes (including the charter of the guard service). In the night from 8 to 9 May we enter the guard.With us, the beggar, which has the main commandment for the hourly nihuy, to fool, not to do without my knowledge. All emergency situations are to the guard, I decide and give the teams." Whoever in his previous years of service in another part of somebody there was fucking wrong, we did not get into it. At our facility at the 3rd post, most of it is not covered with a fence, but simply hangars with substance content and tanks with GSM on the bank of the river. At 22 a.m., a call to the guard "comrade senior officer, civilians burn a fire near the GSM, what to do? In the GHS they shouted, “Go away, they don’t leave, the faces show.” Nakhar told me to take a wake-up change and run away from these fools.

We take, we run. There is already a fairly drunk company of a few girls and young guys.  I explain to them that there are no fires to burn here. “Forgive us” is the softest thing I’ve heard. I begin to explain in their language. And then one of the guys starts rolling out a machine at me. Some of his friends are starting to crack around us. My guards are behind, I can’t see them. I try to knock my visavi several times with my boots in my knees, in my mouth, judging by the yield, I hit a couple of times and the grip weakens. I pull out the machine and, overturning the closet, I shoot into the sky. Those who were around me shake away, and one of those who remained sitting, pulls out of my sinuses a trunk and shoots me several times. At the same time, I open a large brick-selling holding, and, turning toward it, I squeeze the rope. He spreads his head like a rotten cockroach. The prisons lie behind and my guards put the company on the ground, and I throw the machine, I sit next to it and smoke without stopping one by one until they come to me from the garrison. As it turned out, his trunk was gas, in the evening air, but on the nerve you can't figure out. What he expected is unclear. I dreamed of him many years later. I can say it alive and have not seen it, but with a deformed head, I will not forget it. When my father died, I stopped dreaming. Today I dreamed again. And I want to say to him, go fuck, fool.

To tell an idiot that he is wrong is like telling a macac about the benefits of speaking apart.

Women decide everything. A private school, a kindergarten, a preparatory group. A conversation between two girls: Masha (from a good medical family) and Leila (from a good businessman-Muslim family).
Layla: Masha, I’ll grow up and get married to Sasha, I like him!
Masha: No, I will marry him, we have agreed a long time ago. We’ve been friends with him since birth, and our mothers too.
“Masha, it’s not a problem, you’ll be the first wife and I’ll be the second.
Masha thinks, in her head clearly goes fermentation on the subject: and what, so can? Then he says, yes, I agree so much!
I intervene in the conversation: girls, and you asked Sasha, what does he think?
Masha and Leila choir: No! And then surprised: why?! to

Players of the Russian national football team decided to express their support for Zhoube and shake the whole match in full.

James Veron left his home in Gaston, North Carolina, on June 9, 2011 and did what many think was brilliant.



He went to a nearby bank and handed the clerk a note saying:

This is a bank robbery. Please give me a dollar.”

After giving the note, James sat on a chair and waited for the police.



Earlier, he sent a letter to the local newspaper, telling him that he would very soon attempt to commit the robbery, and that he was "a reasonable man, but not healthy."



Later, already in the Gaston County Prison, where he was placed on charges of theft, as one dollar was too small for the prosecutor to be charged with bank robbery, he gave interviews to journalists.



In an interview, James said he worked as a courier at Coca-Cola for 20 years, but was fired and lost his health insurance.



Veron suffered from a tumor in the chest, arthritis and foot pain and decided that the only way to make his life better was to get treatment at the expense of the state in the prison healthcare system.



He may not be the smartest criminal in history, but James Veron is undoubtedly an ingenious and sensible man.

For some, this has long been an obvious truth. I recently discovered an interesting lifehack.

Approximately once a week a friend recruits a team of young guys to unload/load cars in the warehouse. He is given a certain amount, he recruits three from the category of 25-30 years and five 16-17, because among them there are more willing (and they are willing to work for a smaller amount). Also sometimes among them appears a young girl, looking like the same 16 years old. Not to say that she has a strong body, but tries to work equally with everyone, except that she is usually left with lighter objects. I once after loading asked her what motivated her to go here, because the girls are not especially in the loads. It turned out that the organizer himself offered it to her, and also paid up as the senior age category. I did not ask a friend about this, but a few weeks later I noticed one pattern, and then I got to it.

In general, in those days when this girl comes out, the performance of teenagers increases almost twice, and the team takes 40 minutes less time to work. Great, and most importantly, everyone is happy.

He went to the doctor with the girl Natasha. I’m in a crowd of people, I don’t know anyone. When asked where Natalia was, they answered in the store. While we wait for the housewife, I meet my friends, I find a guitar and it fell there... One song, another. One drink, another one. Close the windows to the fifth floor.

About an hour later, the people begin to congratulate Natasha on her birthday and then it turns out that Natasha is not the same person.



In general, I came to Natasha, but much later and not alone. The two drunkards joined together.



The houses are the same, the entrance is the same, the planning of the apartment is the same. And even Natasha was born one day. They even went to the same school, though with a difference of five years.

This is the irony of fate.

I’m in the car along the road with my wife and children. The younger is tired, wants to sleep and therefore bats. They are accepted so. We try to distract him - not even the cartoons help. His favorite music too.

The last attempt to reassure him is to sing his favourite "challenge" - Eat Meat of Men.

The son is silent and by the end of the song falls asleep.

The wife rounded her eyes: “So, did he feed his wife to the guests? What a nightmare!” He sang for her “The Forest”. Again the insight. That is, all the years that we were together, she listened and did not get into the lyrics of songs at all.

Moscow Mayor S.S.Sobyanin from 28.09.20 again introduced the regime of compulsory domestic self-isolation for the Moscowis who have reached the age of 65.The President of Russia Vladimir Putin, as a law-obedient Moskvich who has reached the specified age, fulfilled this order.

I don’t want to swim! - declares my little grandson, and adds for complete clarity:
I do not like to wash!

Well, this, let’s say, is not true. In a few minutes, he will have fun playing in the bathroom with his little brother, making his beard and skins of foam and chasing rubber sluts and ships. He is very busy right now. A man in three years has a lot of things to do.

“I’m very sorry for you,” I told him, helping to collect toys, “when I was a little girl, I didn’t like to shower.

My grandson doesn’t believe me. First of all, all mothers and grandmothers for some reason love to wash. Secondly, grandmothers are not little girls. They just appear in the world - right away grandmothers.

What? How old am I? Well... I still remember the invitation “Come and watch TV.” Here you count.
........................................................................................

We lived in a communal. There was no hot water there. No wonder, many people lived like that. There was no bathroom either. There was cold water in the kitchen. And that was a great good. In the morning, the neighbors ran in a row to this crane - each had a towel on his shoulder, and in his hands - soap, toothbrush and a box with tooth powder. Where did the tooth powder go? He took, and disappeared - at some point, everyone went on toothpaste.)
Water was brought into the house shortly before I was born - before that, I had to walk with a barrel to the column on the neighboring street.

I still remember those street columns. Residents of small wooden private houses in the district still used them. In winter, the column was covered with ice, this ice looked very seductive, and sometimes very stupid children tried to lick it. Or get someone to lick. The tongue immediately crumbled, and the friends of the victim went to the nearest house shouting: "Aunt Stephan! The tongue is frozen!” Aunt Stéphane with a whirlwind carried out a cupcake with warm water, heated on a fork, and released the unhappy man. One time is usually enough. Repeat this number, as a rule, nobody tried.

When I was a kid, swimming was like this. Near the stove (ah yes, I forgot, because there was still a stove, it was melted with coal and wood) a bath was placed on two chairs. Remember those galvanized baths? I saw it recently in Ikea. I did not feel any nostalgia.) The water was heated in a large pot on the plate, and then carried into the room, trying not to splash. The water was very hot - it was poured into a bath and diluted cold. Then it became a little hot, and the adults began to argue: "Cold the child!" “Nothing, let it go!”

Then they washed (the soap must get into the eyes), then washed out of the pot (the water was either too hot or too cold). If you turn to the oven with your back - cold stomach, and if the stomach - cold back.

In short, the pleasure was weak. It is clear that the children did not like this procedure. The little ones cried and resisted, and those who were a little older cried and cried as much as they could.
“What is this bath?” - Mother said sadly, "only dirt smelting, and all..." And the bathtub gradually became small.

So it’s time to actually wash. That is, to go to the bathroom.
........................................................................................

I went to the bathroom with my grandmother. I don’t like those journeys. Something must go wrong. In the dressing room, we are given a number with a hole on which the numbers are printed. The hole has sharp edges with spots - as if not to cut! (I will definitely cut off.) My grandmother gave me the number with the strictest order not to lose. (I am always losing everything.) I clamp it in my fist and think that if I were a kangaroo... it would be much more comfortable. This is the truth, where to put it?

The floor in the bath is soap and slippery. Adults scream at children all the time: "Don't stand here - they will be pushed!“Don’t go there – you’ll slip!“Don’t leave, stay next to me!” “Do not get confused under your feet!” (I don’t know how to combine it all) “Look under your feet!” “Look around, don’t scream!” “Don’t dare to sit on the bench! Few people were sitting there. You can get infected!” (Why put this bench here if you can’t sit on it?) Where is the number? I dropped him down, I think... Oh, here’s he. And indeed he fell. I looked at the scandal.

What a scandal? Always the same thing. A mother brought her little son. What is this, I ask? Little boys go to the bathroom with their mothers. (And in the summer on the beach, small children and all naked run - and it doesn't bother anyone.) But the women think that this little boy is already too big. I wonder how do they know?
“The insane!One of them said, “Let such a big guy go to a women’s bathroom.” “It is right!” Supports the other. “Let him go with my father!” “Nothing will be done to him!” I wonder if the boy’s mother is offended. “He will not defile you!” This, of course, is followed by a general outrage, whether actual or supposed, simply for order.

I sympathize with the “big guy” from the heart, and he, the poor man, tries to justify himself: “I can’t see anything, my mother washed my eyes!”

After all this, I don’t even notice when my grandmother tricks me to wash. We go out to the dressing room, and with relief I give my grandmother a wet room - not cut and not lost, fine! The F-Fuh! We dress - everything as usual: a dress, a coat, a coat, a towel, a hat ("so that the ears don't get cold") - well, finally! We go home.

In front of us, the mother leads the hand of the “big boy” who whispers, “Never again... only with daddy... everyone is fighting... I don’t want...”

But then... I, honestly, I’m not guilty that something happens after the bath. Not very lucky! For example, this is this:

My grandmother and I walk past the house, where some uncles just climb the roof - whether to repair this very roof, or remove it. From the roof suddenly rises a huge cluster of pigeons - apparently, the workers scared them. The noise of the wings, the wind, the dust, something drops on us... Grandma laughingly cries with her hands and cries, “Kish!“But the pigeons don’t listen to her.

I look at my grandmother. On her light coat the flowers are somewhat black-and-white, and on my black coat - white-and-grey...How did it happen?

Finally we come home, the grandmother somehow cleans my unhappy coat, and I relieved to run to play in the courtyard, listening to the mandatory instructions before this "do not stumble." At least until my mom comes back from work. "May she at least once see a clean child!" (It’s true, we both understand that it’s unlikely to work out, but the ritual is a ritual.)

The game is very interesting - in the courtyard are low wooden stalls, and someone comes to mind a brilliant idea to run on the roofs. It is easy to get there - near the barrel there is a barrel on which wood is rolled, and a reversed barrel.
One or two and we are on the roof. The view from there really opens up something quite different - and our courtyard, and the neighboring, and the street - but... unfortunately - the sharkers are old. Of course, as the lucky one, I fail inside. Fall not very high - the barrel is full of coal brought for the winter, and the coal is rolled almost to the top.

I hardly get upset and I don’t even have time to be scared. But when I get out through the hole in the roof, all the kids start laughing loudly. I wonder why...? Well, the coat is fine - it is black, nothing is visible on it. Here are my hands... yes, my hands are dirty... And something tells me that my grandmother won’t like my appearance. Even after all my friends, having finished laughing, friendlyly try to cut me off and clean up.

Mother will not see a clean child again.
........................................................................................

To my great joy, these journeys did not last long - only a couple of years. After some time, Mommy's friends moved to a new cooperative apartment, where - a miracle of miracles! There was a bathroom, and hot water flowed straight from the crane.

And a new epic called "Come to us to swim."
But it is a completely different story. For another time.

My grandchildren have already bathed. It is time for them to sleep.

How is the condition of Putin’s daughter after the vaccination?
I think everything is fine, as usual, it has grown!