The Star in Peter. From the country I was driving past, a couple of years ago, dirty, tired of the forest, the trunk of mushrooms, I am in a sweater old. I went to buy a pair of shirts. A dialogue with my grandmother:

What about T-shirts?

So much so much.

Is it so expensive?

- so good shirts, from Turkey, everyone takes no one complains. How many years ago did you buy this? You still wear it.

And I remember that I bought this coff in 2000 here on the star...

I have a companion who has been subjected to a strong educational influence from his parents throughout his life. Since childhood, he has been on a short leash and under sensitive supervision, hence hyperresponsibility, light infantilism and consequently problems with the opposite sex.



With the girls, a friend builds a relationship strictly remotely, sitting on a chair, with tea in his hands and a plate of pasta. In general, a real guru of dating sites.



Once, everything went so far that the lady agreed to a date.

Naturally, I was terribly curious about how they went, and the next day, after that date, I couldn’t stand and called.



To my surprise, he started his story without interest.

We met at the other end of the city. We go, we talk, we laugh. The weather is good, warm. She is a nice and kind girl, I wasn’t even ashamed. It was 20 minutes and my phone ringed.



The father almost screams at the phone: “Come home quickly! »

I naturally break up. I tell the girl that something happened and I need to go urgently. I say goodbye, I catch a taxi and go home, praying all gods that “nothing terrible.” Without waiting for the elevator, I run to the ninth floor, open the door and see my father. He has a trash bag in his hand. He tells me, “Why don’t you throw away your rubbish? »

Sometimes I envy people who can tell something wild, but at the same time in detail and still interesting.

I was driving with a man from the guard, he tells me.

I am a simple swindler. Once worked on the ISS (International Space Station), they call it, you need to make a crack. In terms of money, of course, it closed very well.

I live in a closed city, there is a secret object. At the entrance, military passes are checked, cars are inspected. In the city, in every house, the door with a secret code is checked by voice. If you do not live in this house, everyone will not let go.

Everyone is sitting and listening like small children with their mouths open, and the man tells them about the home phone.

The world is not without good people.

In the kitchen near the house some time ago began to sell cakes not entirely, but in pieces, in the eye - 1/6-1/8 of the whole cake.

And I decided I just had to try all the cakes in the range! And they, cockroaches, cakes make very delicious and the range is very large. There is not much left until evening, but if you go for lunch, your eyes run out.

In short, a couple of months I bought from them cakes by piece and, in the end, noticed that the jeans started to fit badly on me. By the way, are there lawyers to judge the cooker for getting fat? Only not those who work for money, but normal people, who will go to court without money? I think we need to judge for this case a million moral damages, then we will drink half.

So I realized it was time to go on a diet again.

I went to the same cooking today, already for dietary food - oatmeal, pearl and chicken. They also have a delicious snack! He has also been on her lately.

He went in, approached the window with the baking and the internal struggle began. I want a delicious cake, but so soon I will return to 106 kg again. It is not the matter! before the cakes.

Probably the look was so hungry that the woman next to me said:

Take a cake and I’ll pay.

I had a colleague who got everyone with different bikes. One of them was something like "to break a human skull, it takes a force of 24 kg per cm²". The wording is not accurate, but the essence is that in the process of discussion he settled and it turned out to be "24 cm". So came the nickname “Vlad 24cm”. That’s how it was recorded on my phone. I have changed my job, I sit in the kitchen, I eat lunch with new colleagues, the phone is in front of me and here this Vlad calls me. The faces of people who had time to see the name of the contact should have seen.)

When the country begins to be defended by ideologists, and the ideologists are appointed by debils and debils, then the country is definitely a shit.

My father fought no more than a year. I studied machine gun. He went into reconnaissance. I got the “courage.” One day, when he returned from the German rear, he was caught in a row. He survived but was disabled. My father spoke very little about the war. Probably trying to forget. I never went to any kind of celebrations, only meetings with fellow soldiers. Then it was time to listen to him.

One day in the early spring, a part of them, on another tired march on the snow, stood up in the basement. It was a suburb near the forest, on which the snow almost came down, and even flowers appeared. After eating, the soldiers were angry. The wind poem. The sun was so hell that everyone dropped the shines, and some - even gymnastes. Who lay right on the grass, who trembled, sitting in a circle, a few guys beat behind the snowmen. Everyone was relaxed and almost happy.

And suddenly the commander suddenly and frighteningly shouted, “Rota! No one move! This is order! They froze! Do not hold! They are all frozen!” He cried it for a long time until it reached everyone. They all fossilized.

Then he ordered everyone, without leaving the place, to look around, and look for the wires coming out of the ground. And then the father actually saw a small torch near him. From various sides it was, “I see! I see here!” Everyone knew that they were jumping mines. Slowly and carefully, one by one, step by step, the whole company went out to a safe place.

To whom I did not tell this, they were surprised how a hundred soldiers could unhinderedly settle on the mine field. After all, it was worth at least one "frog" to crush, as if they were all thrown to the ground, and the rest would explode. One of the incredible cases of fairy fortune, which many had in the war...

For some reason, I got a detail. The soldiers, who had plotted with heavy luggage a few hours before, went to collect flowers on their rest. They were really just boys. Young and careless. Yesterday’s schoolchildren, who went to battle, barricades, attacks, and bombings. to their wounds and deaths.

The court of officer's honor over lieutenant Rzhevsky, the mother of one of the girlfriends of the lieutenant:
“He’s my daughter there first, here’s Edak, and then there’s Razedak, that’s unacceptable!
Officers with friendly choir:
How is it right?

In the early 1990s, he taught martial arts to teenagers. It was very intentional, because it was relevant at the time. Once, during the training, a boy, probably 25-26, looked at us in the hall. A little thick, smiling, you can say I'll look at it, and I can do it. He stood in the room next to the students. He did not anything, it was such a character from Russian fairy tales, slightly formless and simple. No stretch or physics. Well, we came to the Sparrings. This guy stood uncertain, as if he was going to fall, seemed to be messy from the side, but then somehow strangely won. Then the elbow moves, then the leg and somehow uncomfortable, but his opponent fell. The strong guys fell. Okay well. Let me try it. Well, he got up uncomfortable again, with every blow I almost frightened off, pressing his head, and then the grandmother, to me comes an unhealthy such a stroke. Then again and again.

I ask, “How do you do this?"He said, 'I don't know myself, somehow I normalize, adjust and beat.'

After training, they met and later became friends. The guy never did anything, not even on his job, but he was an opera and the circle that day did - with his colleagues, he was looking for some bandit. And then he heard from his friends that one day he stood against three bandits, one of which had a gun, and with bare hands attacked all three.



And then I had the same feeling when you found out that the person you looked at from above was several times more perfect than you.



Definitely this is some sort of genetic memory from ancestors, the ability to fight even without any technique, at the level of the sixth sense. It is simply incomprehensible to me.

I watch a TV movie "Big Change", a 15-year-old son comes in, looks at 10 seconds and asks:

Was this film shot in the last century?

After the stunt, I was able to answer:

Yes, son, in the last century.

And funny situation, and sad, fucking

I remembered how they were sent to the military committee for analysis.

A young nurse before taking blood from a vein 15 times asked if I was not afraid of injections.

And then, the infection, the whole hand blew out, trying to get into the vein (a thick self). As a result, the classic "BabManya" reached three me and took the analysis from the first attempt.

It was not scary.

But when I caught pneumonia and I was given the usual most intra-pocket injections - the nurse also decided to stamp without sentiment in a vertical position. and hit. I got nervous, the redis is not good. His eyes darkened, shaken, but he did not fall. For the next five minutes, my throat could only make a “Y” sound. For the next three days I tried to curl away only when I saw her red hair in the hallway and demanded a curl exclusively in my shoulder. I was never afraid of injections, but the memory of that nurse still causes a nervous tremors.

Xxx: In the Volga region, we have a national chestnut, Russian, Tatar, Mordov and Chuvas villages stand in random order. Well, they went from our Tatar village to the Russian village to fight, some of them were offended there. But they were there waiting, prepared, attacked and marked. Our fast on the motorcycles and the hole... And one motorcycle did not turn, sadly to give up, and scary - father's. Here the persecutors came and said, “Have you hit, Tatarchon!” Again they fainted. They were graciously allowed to leave. He would be happy, yes, he says, My Ural does not start, Daddy will kill if he knows where he was going. The locals advised, sent one for their culibin, the other for a race. Then the whole night they repaired the moth, drank the self-driving, and poured it into the victim: “Song, Mama!” Then they pushed the motorcycle and finally started. The guy is still, twenty years old, in the shrinkage of the mysterious Russian soul - and dismissed, says, and drunk and the motorcycle repaired.

Yyy: South of Bashkiria, the vineyard of nationalities. We sent the Russians with the Tatars to the village of Chuvas, where they had to fuck. And there they are already baffled by the bafflers, well, we are baffled with the shout of our beats, we started baffling with the bafflers, and then we went and baffled all together - the Tatars, the bafflers, the Russians and the Chuvashis. And all because we are brothers, we will struggle to reconcile. We fought because there was no fun.

Take care of yourself, remember! You have one, you have no other.

I have a great-grandmother who worked as a teacher at school all his life. At the time of the described event, she was 92 years old (And now she is alive and fully fit! Always tight, careful, with a manicure. Beyond her face...

I was recently in the theatre. In the entrance, an old lady approaches me - gray, without teeth, with a barrel - and says: "Hello, Polina Abramovna! How pleased to see you!” I could not figure out who it was. It was my student, you know? ! to

There was a family party recently, we talked about everything. We talked, as is the case, about young people. Moth now young people drink as not to themselves, not even rotting, but in our time...

What grandfather skeptically removed his glasses and reminded his father how he came home in the first class in the new year and under the fight of curants began to pour vodka into a cup of tea. The overwhelmed grandfather had stretched out his hand to pick up the bottle, and his father struck it.

People are divided into two categories: some are able to survive, others are able to live!

Kenyan runner Abel Mutai was just a few feet from the finish, but confused the finish with the signs and stopped thinking he had finished the race.

The Spanish runner, Ivan Fernandez, stood behind him and, realizing what was going on, began screaming at the Kenyan to keep running. Mutai did not know Spanish and did not understand it. Understanding what was happening, Fernandez pushed Mutai to victory.

The journalist asked Ivan:

Elman Pashaev offered the authorities of Armenia for 11 million rubles to settle the conflict in Nagorno-Karabakh.

XXX is reminded. Afternoon call (right after lunch), the bomb in the collector went to a different world. They came, they were awful, wearing anti-gases, descended, the young employee somehow sharply increased anti-gas, and pasta appeared in the windows, it was a shit.

Why the anti-gas? They do not protect them.

Zzz: So that the macarons do not run far.

I met a single girl at work. That, the fifth, the tenth, came from the village, 20 km from the city. He lives in the city and goes to the village for a weekend with his parents.

Somewhere for a month "talk" and she invites to her village at a disco for the weekend. The night was decided by her friend.

I had a floating weekend and a non-normalized working day did not coincide with her schedule.

I got rid of all the worries closer to the night my phone to this was stuck with missed calls and text messages from the girl.

When I call you, I’ll call a taxi and go overnight.

Somewhere after half an hour arriving at the place, the taxi driver brought him straight to the club, called the girl again. A few minutes later, she painted before entering the club with her friends. It's a little sluggish, it's not acceptable to go to the club sober.

There was a small group of local people at the entrance. Looking at us with interest.

While I was talking to a friend, the group went out together somewhere at night. Here it would be to think about, but as they say hormones, youth, sometimes in general)

I went to the club and it didn’t take 5 minutes as my friend someone called and she went out.

In a few minutes, he comes in a quick step to me.

"We need to go away urgently, my former half-city has gathered, they will beat you."

Already on the street, I saw a crowd moving towards the club visually increasing as it approached. The lights stood on the way to the club on all the pillars, which is rare.

Someone from the crowd shouted, “Here he is, catch him!” The trousers were filled with bricks.

The only thing a girlfriend could offer was to run to the track and catch up on some sidewalk.

And I broke.

By feeling, I passed all school norms on running and confidently went to the master of sports.

Now, after time, it looks funny to me) But then I wasn’t laughing.

I was rescued by a taxi driver. He landed somebody and I just ran ahead of him at that moment.

The taxi driver, seeing me carrying with shaken eyes and the crowd behind me, instantly opened the door of the car and immediately sat down for the wheel.

When I got into the car, in a fraction of a second, I locked all the doors and shouted to the taxi driver, “Hunt you!

Two times it did not have to repeat, the taxi driver drowned from the place.

There were screams, threats and threats behind us.

I did not go to the village with her anymore.