Instead of living in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia like in France, people come to France to live in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia. It is strange. It is even more strange to force the French to live, like in Algeria, Morocco and Tunisia.

I used to sit in the bus next to a beautiful girl, and now – next to the one who is in a mask.

Middle of the 90s. The Surgeon. It was.
My friends are a wonderful family couple of Andrew and Lenko. She is an intelligent beauty, teaching children in a music school to play the accordion. Andryucha (Goblin) is a true strawper, breaker and braznik. They met in the ensemble, where she was a soloist, and he was knocking on drums.
Lenka in the spring graduated from car school, forced her husband to buy a used mosquito 2141 for practice and here her dreams failed, as Andrew liked driving himself.
On this bad day, we three went to a new field for mushrooms. The places were wild, but they laid a concrete of three plates 2 meters wide and it was comfortable to drive. They came, picked up mushrooms and sat down to eat before the way back. Relaxed and forgotten that there is no limit to female cowardice. Lennočka covered the lawn: sandwiches-salads, cucumbers-tomates and drinks did not forget to pour out of the bottle. The good guys rejoiced, rolled around and remembered! Unfortunately it was late! “And I took the right!” we accepted, drank a drink, sat down on the back seat and went. Surprisingly, although Kraza and Kamaza flew to meet, Lenka drove the car very decently, confidently. There are still 200 meters to the asphalt, the road is empty, only in front of the track some lighthouse turned to us.
Lenka strained and slowed. “What are you, Len?”
“Silence, there’s a grandmother driving!”
“How did you see so far?”
“I don’t know, I hear her. Who knows what to expect from her! I am afraid!”
He swung his right wheels to the side. The next car did the same. And Andrewha and I watched as they (there really is a lady behind the wheel), with a dead grip stuck in the wheel, quietly travel with a gap between the sides of more than 2 meters. After leaving, Lenka returned to the road and joyfully sang something moving on. I was in front of the crabs, but it wasn’t scary.

Retirement is understandable. The most important thing is not to be deceived with heaven.

In Russian, the numbers are quite enough.

How about 20?

and twenty

20 – twenty, 30 – thirty, 40 – forty

No, forty

What is 40? Why is?

Yes, I’m XZ, just 40

Okay, then 50 – 50

No, we start adding “five” at the end, fifty.

Strange, but okay, 60 – sixty, 70 – seventy, 80 – eighty, 90 – ninety

No, ninety

What for? Why is there a hundred?

A hundred is 100

Is the ninety going before the hundred? Is it at all how? 100 to 100, how about 200?

Two hundred

- two turned into two and added "three", well, it is Russian language, three does not turn into some "three"? 300 - three hundred

No, three hundred

300 – three hundred, 400 – four hundred, 500 – five hundred

No, five hundred

And go to...

I have a friend, Dim. He always loved to eat, but lately has generally released the chiefs, rotating a bowl of fried pork with potatoes almost every day. And on the weekend, he and his family generally have a hard day: swimsuits, swimsuits, baths.



I didn’t see him for a few months, and they literally met yesterday. All in updates - jeans, jacket, sweater. At first I didn't even recognize him - so fat, his face round like the moon. “Good health,” I say. You bought a coat last year and got a new one.

“Yes,” he replies, “today all the clothes are fucking, the jacket is seated, it doesn’t find.”



Well, as long as I am alive, I have never heard that the upper clothes were put on. Jeans and sweaters were also there.

Whoever does not work with folders, works with mommies. (Prophetic of System Admins)

Some cases that occurred in life, seeming insignificant, after years are realized.Through a series of painful dejaws and illuminations - so this is what it was or who it was!!! And some immediately seem surprising, but continue to surprise much later again and again, as if a bubble is swallowing out of the information and knowledge obtained later.
In the 1970s, working in a student building unit, I was forced to rush home after the announcement of a big trouble. How then I found a message - a separate story, because then in the deaf non-Black Earth, not that there was no mail, telegraph and telephone - sometimes there was no electricity. The trouble began when he wounded his hand, he found only 10 rubles of money, only the shape remained clean, and the cedar asked for a bowl. Most importantly, I am late. Running to the station, I saw only the tail of the train, the last... the prospect of sitting overnight on the semi-station and more.
As he climbed up, he helped some grandfather with a stick. He looked like he said "old-regime" - a kosovorotka, a chromed boots jacket, a kind of armor on his head. But the jacket was really pre-revolutionary... I was not in the spirit, and I felt, the head was turning. Therefore, when the old man asked where I was going, he answered not very friendly. And the old man, looking at the astonishment of the blue-eyed with clear eyes, proposed: what about you, sweet servant, you will sit here at night, sit on the Moscow train, it is going in an hour, and in the capital you will just sit straight to the house! I was surprised by the knowledge of the routes, but I agreed – it would be even faster.
The next thing happened like in the fog...I helped the old woman to get up in the car, the driver, looking at my grandfather, suddenly led us in an empty couch and didn’t even take the stretched cherry...I was shaken and shaken. Grandfather suddenly touched my forehead, pulse, looked at somewhat wrapped, swollen brush and immediately said you have a flegmon and the infection of the blood begins. If I don’t clean it, I can die in a few hours. I said something - we say in the train, to the station to go, to the ambulance, to the hospital, I can not be late home and so on... But the old man and says - you can not get there, but he can clean up here, he is a doctor, but there is no time to think and doubt! He’s not Luca, but that’s his specialty.
And I immediately believed – the old man took out a box with tools, bandages, some bottles, spread a medical cloth. Immediately I said - I anesthetized only half a glass of vodka, which I caught... the next thing is remembered even more vaguely - the pain from the cut, something is flowing, some forging, something poured into the wound - but the pain was released very quickly, I, pressing my hand like a baby, suddenly relaxed and pulled me to sleep... But my grandfather gave me a thermometer, checking it every half an hour, and forbade me to fall asleep, inhibiting and forcing me to answer questions. I asked about him myself, he said something that he studied with some Luca in Pereyaslav, when he was still working in the earth hospital in the Vladimir province. At the surprise question – and how old my grandfather was, I got the shocking answer: hundred!!! to
And then he told that he was born in a family of priests in the Yaroslavl province, he himself graduated from the seminary and received the rank in the 19th century. but he was not attracted by his church profession - at the beginning of the twentieth century he enrolled in the Moscow University, the medical faculty. Grandfather remembered the outstanding scientists he studied with, celebrities – but I don’t remember who exactly... Then he worked in a small town in Yaroslavl, studied with an outstanding surgeon, who was also a priest – Luke.
And then there was the Imperialist, work in hospitals, then the revolution... Civil, White Army... And then the Soviet power was deprived of houses, jobs and imprisoned. But another trouble came - before the very Patriotic War, they created a fish reservoir and a hydroelectric power plant, and the town and the village simply drowned... Already then this physician-priest was an elderly and he did not have a home. He went to Russia and became a wandering pope. He came to Kiev just when the war began – withdrew with refugees, but the Germans overcame – fell into occupation. He walked through the villages, performed rites, treated in a quiet manner - the Germans repeatedly threatened to spy... He fell into a guerrilla detachment, treated, sang, and the partisans almost spied - they thought he was a spy. The commander, whose hand he saved... But after liberation by the Red Army, the officers were still struggling to find out. And they persecuted him in the camps until the fifty-sixth year. While I was sitting, I worked more and more in hospitals and I met Luke again! They let go, and there is nowhere to go, even if the passport was given. On Kolym, he worked in a hospital, with her, he lived in a cabin, but went back to walk in Russia - he reached Vladivostok and walked to the First Presbyterian! And then he walked around Vladimir and many places and quietly baptized and sang for food.
And then he said that he goes to Zagorsk, to the Lavra, to ask for the atonement of sins and shelter - there is no way to wander.
When I woke up in the morning, my grandfather, running and looking, said that I was okay, advised the doctor to go, pulled something in my hand and melted in the crowd of people going out. And in his hand was an aluminum cross curved.
Already in the late nineties, on a business trip, we talked in UAZIK on the road, and I remembered this story and showed that curved cross... The driver stopped so that I barely tried the windscreen on my forehead..The driver got the same cross and said that it belonged to his father, a former partisan, who had been looking for some pop that saved his life.

I bought a chocolate cake today. It turns out, the cake can be bought, even if there is no celebration! They don’t even check!

I was 3-4 years old. My father took me to the bathroom, and after washing, he bought a glass of beer in the buffet. I watched him drink and thought it was probably even more delicious than lemonade. When I noticed my interest, my father gave me a blow... For 15 years, I still didn’t take this ugliness into my mouth. And this is exactly the same situation happened to me and my son, at the same age. Waiting for his reaction, I pulled him a glass. He drinks it completely, stretches me and says, “More!”

Like many kids, I dreamed of a dog. And here I was gifted a puppy, a small and awkward daughter of a proud customs shepherd and a flying cockroach :) We lived at the time with our parents in the shelter (who doesn't know, room 17 square meters / m, common kitchen and bathroom), of course, my puppy's place there was unusual. And in the early summer I went to the village, with my best friend, Chapa! Thro the summer we were untouched by water, and into the forest and to the lake and on the great, everywhere together. It was a wonderful dog, smarter and more affectionate I had never met. But now it was August and by the end of the month I had to go back to town, school time. Every weekend I asked my parents to come to the village because Chapa was waiting for me there. A few months later, when I came to the village, I was not met by my hairy miracle. My grandfather said, “I have died. I was crying for two days, when it was time to go to the city, I also whispered my nose. My friend, my Chapa is dead. It was the end of everything. ...

A year has passed, summer has arrived. The pain was forgotten, removed.

On a bad day, I walked around the courtyard. On the trail, I noticed a dog getting worse, in the shrubs. And with a terrible crushing feeling in my chest, I recognized my Chapa in this dog. She ran to me with a gallop, I hugged her in tears, and she licked my tears.

I couldn’t believe in the reality of this occurrence, as it was all...

It turned out, like Chapa was a fox, during the rush, cows ran to her and my relatives gave her to some alkasha, to a distant huthor. She was put on a chain. Here is all that.

Do you think I was allowed to leave her?

No is.

My Chapa was returned to that Alkasha, and I went there every day to see her. Alkas was tired of it and he just struck my Chapa with pollen in my eyes.

A few years later, he snatched the tail of his companion and left for life, before this knife struck his father.



The pets, the boys. I write tears in my eyes again. Scuco.

I will tell you my story too. He was a boy and spent the summer as many children of that time (end 1980) in the village. And in the village we had a sarai, a sarai with various interesting things. Among them was a motorcycle from Minsk.

The motorcycle has been there for many years. I bought it to my uncle long before I was born. He drove on it until he simply stopped driving. And since the uncle's hand is out of his ass, he just put him in the bag. Grandfather did not need it, and this miracle stood in the dust for almost 15 years.

In the summer, at my 14 years old, my uncle during a family dinner handed me the keys to the motorcycle and said, "Take, understand, do, do what you want, it is now yours."

All of his relatives bowed him with loves. He was a star that night. And I, that I... I already in a hundred seconds scratched my motorcycle from under the barrel!

Of course, this summer was amazing, I bought a new chain for the money collected from the debris, made friends with the older boys from the yard and with their help took the carburetor, changed the cameras in the wheels. In one word, he spent almost 3 months on a iron horse.

Here is the day X. With friends found gasoline, diluted with oil. And I took a motorcycle! It was an untransmitted feeling, before my childhood gaze all the epic twists that were waiting for me.

The relatives came out of the house and looked at me and my horse with astonishment.

Uncle then ran, immediately jumped on the motorcycle and went to walk, I watched all the action just with pride for myself.

But, here the uncle returned and simply bursting well, drove the mozzicle into the shell and not very explaining with the key went home.

On my questions and protests, the households said they will give tomorrow.

And for tomorrow, Mosic from the morning was stolen where it was sold.

I didn’t get money from my uncle.

There was a response to the protests. That I did not understand it and nobody gave it to me. I’m 40 and I still hate it.

On anekdot.ru it is very easy to separate anecdotes from news:
If it’s funny to tears, it’s a joke.
If it’s funny through tears, it’s news.

By the way, about mushrooms.
When I was young, I was not taken to the forest. The older sisters were released.
And here they gathered together once in a company, a man can be five or six, with neighboring girlfriends, and ask the father.
“Daddy, can we take Burana with us?
The Buran was named a puppy, a very small puppy, whom his father brought only a few days ago. Not a dog, but a toy.
The father thought and said:
Well take it. Do not lose.
The puppy, though tiny, but intelligent, was running behind someone's heels all the time, so it was unlikely to get lost.
It is not close to the forest, five or six kilometers, but according to rural standards is normal. The puppy where with his feet, where on his arms, and in the woods all the time looked at him to be close. They picked up mushrooms, went out on the roof, sat down to rest, here on a collective farm truck passes by Uncle Sasha.
What, girls, have you picked up mushrooms? So sit down, I’ll go.
They, joyful, jumped into the body, he brought them to the village and brought them.
Back home, where is Buran? But not Burana. I forgot in the forest. When the joyful ones in the car loaded.
Oh, what started here. Tears and sweat. They ran back and where. My father just shrugged his hand. I was upset, of course, but I did not insult anyone, I allowed it, it was my fault. They burned for a day or two and forgot. The father said, don't cheer, I'll bring a new, the puppies in the wreath are still left.

Buran arrived in a week. All dirty, in repins, but very joyful. It is unclear how he found the way back. The cat would be lost.
Here it started again, - tears, tears, whispers, joy-filled pants. The father asks:
God, how did you survive?
And the puppy only knows the tail whipped and licked everyone.

How many years later I will not say, but Buran was already an adult, and I grew up, we went on mushrooms. And here he runs through the forest there and here, and at some point, and disappeared. I scream :
Buran to Buran!
And the silence.
I go, and he lies under the tree, and the white mushroom eats. Such a good mushroom, young, strong. I say :
What fucking do you do that? Go out of the jersey!
And he borovik doel, the root spit out, and then joyfully jumped.
He was in the woods and survived.
How many dogs I never met then, Buran was the only dog that ate mushrooms and berries. The mushrooms are exclusively white, and the berries are only berries.

(The replica "You don't want to live so fast" wanted to leave commentators, but did not. They will)

At a meeting with the head of VTB Kostin, the president said: "We have difficult times now." Kostin did not understand why he was having difficult times now, but in politeness agreed.

The essence of Russian business is exhausted by the only Pushkin phrase: "I need an employee, a cook, a horse and a carpenter. Where would I find such a worker not too expensive?”

The Jewish Scheme
“Their circle is narrow, they are terribly far from the people.”

In Peter, next to the shelter where I lived, was fashionable in the cabbage area. In the evening, local bandits came to him on the nine to spend their billions earned in the morning.
For the most part, it was dangerous for a normal person to even walk near that cabbage and its inhabitants. The times were harsh, and the morals unstoppable. Beginning of the nineties. Little, you go past and you will be asked, “What do you look like this? Audacious?” or “What do you look in the eyes of people, you are not behind?” The second or third question will already sound like this: “We went to re-design the apartment. Who is written in it besides you?”

If you think I exaggerated, you are just lucky not to live in those times.

In this same cabbage, a day later, in the evenings, my comrade, an astute Jew named Trub (once he studied at the Division of Spiritual Instruments, and then dropped, and the nickname remained).
Naturally, the Tubes had clashes with the bandits every day. Regular visitors knew him, of course, and respectfully greeted him with both hands, but with strangers, there were problems almost daily. Someone the Trubus did not let into the cabbage, the brothers were bullshit, grabbed the Trubus for the chest, were going to break his nose, and the Trubus had a very elaborate scheme for this case. After a moment, he said in a calm and convincing voice:

and stop! You are seven, and I am alone. If you are the right people and have the desire to deal with it, then I am ready with any of you to come out right now and right here one-on-one and resolve our conflict. If you do not want it yourself, please put any other of your fighters against me. I’m here until morning so you have time to go for it.

Usually, in nine out of ten cases, the boys from such a frank scheme somewhat cooled, "gave back" and "fused" And if someone, still accepted the challenge (which did not happen often), then the Tube cut off the opponent as quickly and prominently as possible, trying not to break anything to him. He was mostly “on the livery” as he called it.
In general, it is not a great merit, of course, if you are a master of the sport of the international class in boxing, and also acting.
I once asked him:

- Tub, you have a great scheme, of course, but it can also fail. Are you not afraid that suddenly another gang will bring a boxer who will still be able to cut you off? What then?
Do you want to talk to a Jew? ha ha! Those who can cut me off, I am not afraid.
Why this?
That’s why, one day, it happened as you say. I had a snack with some Armenians, they accepted my challenge and said that now they will bring the fighter, prepare, say, to death. In the morning with them really came a huge Ara, came out of the car, approached me... we hugged, he sat back in the car and immediately left.
At that time, Arya and I traveled around the world for youth championships.
I know everyone who can beat me from childhood, they’re fifteen and they’re my best friends.

In the middle of the day, a robber broke into the apartment. He bound the woman and, threatening with a gun, demanded from the man all the valuables in the house.
“Brother,” the man begged with tears in his eyes, “take what you want, but I beg you: loose it and let it go.
Do you love your wife so much? The thief asked.
My neighbor’s wife is coming soon.

They send a microscopic drawing (something like 240x320 points) to the printing room and say that you need to make a 3x4 meter poster from it. They answered, "It is impossible to make a poster from this drawing - more permission is needed." The answer comes, and there is a scanned document with a text of the type "I give permission. Director Ivanov I.I.

Previously, I was always surprised how my mom found the things I was looking for, but I couldn’t find.

My husband is out of the bathroom:

Where is the towel?

There it is

There is not!

It hangs there!

and Neeta

I come, take off the coat from the hook, underneath it a towel...

My daughter, 4 years:

Where is the brown little?

In your pen.

Further on the same scheme, I come, I find her in the penalty 2 brown pins.

I didn’t even notice how I acquired this superpower.