Thanks to the self-isolation mode, I finally had time to do repairs in the bathroom, disassemble the mud in the wardrobe and read Dostoevsky. I haven’t done anything yet, but the time has come.
I visited a friend in another city. And here, one late evening, when I was sitting in the kitchen for a compost, he comes in so worried and begins to search the kitchen. I ask, what are you looking for? “I can’t find the mirror. I put it in a pack with the charging and the lens and there is no package.”
We searched together. without a result.
You know, I probably dropped this package with garbage yesterday! The garbage was dumped and seized. Let’s go to wash. We look there!
We dress up and go. The boxes near the house are full. I looked up, but where was it... It became clear that if there was a package somewhere, inside these tanks. What to do?
I have an idea! Let’s find a bombardment, pay him money and let him in this tank and find that damn package!
We call a taxi. The night. The taxi driver: “Where are we going?”
We need to find a bomb. Here we picked up the cloth, laying on the seat. Go to market. I know, there was one place for them.
We come to the market, empty, closed. We walked around, fig there. The Taxi:
It’s too late, they’re probably already sleeping.
Where can they be?
It can still be at the station.
Go to the station. Empty too. We travelled around the city for training and returned.
Well, you’ll have to see, you’ll have to go there yourself. Is it worth it?
Yes it stands. Wait here, I am now.
Comes dressed up. The clothes are clean, just old.
And he starts taking out the bag and transferring it to the neighbor.
Are you sure this is the bag?
Yes, of course! I dropped to the left.
He cries, I light up the phone. At the bottom he finds his suitcase of garbage.
Here is my package! Uff!
And the camera?
The time...
Draw the tank to the end. There is no second camera. We go home.
We go to the village on the weekend. There his friends, relatives... A friend comes, brings a bag with a camera.
You came to the shelters a week ago. I forgot the package.
A conversation between two men, 50 years old. Listened in line, with observance of mass mode and distance.
- You, fucking, these fools from GAI for nothing took the son's rights.
And what happened?
At the parking lot near the store, he grabbed the mirror of the neighboring car and left. Imagine for some mirror and deprived of rights.
So he was not deprived of the mirror, but for leaving the place of the accident. He would call the commissioners, pay a thousand for the registration and leave quietly.
He couldn’t stay, he was a little drunk.
This happened when I was 15 weeks pregnant. One night I woke up from the fact that the baby first started pushing. I was very happy and wanted to share this with my husband. But he, unfortunately, was asleep, and it was a pity to wake a working man. I didn’t think of anything better than taking his hand and putting it on my stomach in the hope that he would feel the movement through his sleep. And here, I take his hand, I try to squeeze into my pyjamas, and suddenly... the husband (sleeping) sharply tears out his hand, pushes me off, swings off his hands, wraps in the blanket, turns away from me and sleeps on. I am very upset and confused trying to fall asleep too. And I am offended, on the one hand, and on the other - what demand from a sleeping person.
My husband wakes up in the morning and tells me. You know, I said, I had such a wild dream. I stand in a line, and suddenly the man standing in front of me turns, takes my hand and swims in his pants.
Do not sneeze in the sleeve. They smell!
Compliance and psychological installation
Before my Iljuha was going to enter the institute, we had an agreement with him: you go to the budget - we rent you an apartment; you get paid - all the money goes to study, you live in a household. Well, to promote, told a couple with a beloved wife, how it is disgusting in communities, inflicted a sense of horror. Even the sister, who lived in the Lviv community for 5 years, added.
In that university, at which Iljuha decided to stop, he did not pass on the budget, so we, as we talked about, took him to the dormitory, met with the commander, and went back. Companion and Companion. As all...
Half a year later, the commander tells me that my boy and his neighbor are about to be expelled. Because they do, shit what.
My shit is doing what? I was surprised and began to understand.
I found out. They placed a child in a room with a crazy four-year-old. Crazy in the literal sense. The walls, cabinets, ceiling and all the free surfaces he painted with absolutely delirious pictures in dark tones.
Periodically, this comrade uses all kinds of unknown substances, as a result of which he suddenly begins to roar and run around the room, then moves the cabinets, then speaks music in the middle of the night at full volume, then at 4 am he gets enough hammer and begins to sneeze in the wall.
My Ilucha living space - a bed and a table with a laptop, on everything else - an extremely creative mess of "colleagues". A comrade lives in a room with a girl, periodically giving up to love comforts and brightly giving up to student fun. They live in full.
Neighbors wrote statements and jabees a hundred times.
And since Iljuha is silent and does not complain about anything, then, in the opinion of the commander, either he himself is involved in this, or he is all-suited.
When I learned all the details of such an existence, I raised the gray hair everywhere and asked the child a reasonable question.
Why did you keep silent all this time?! to
I got a reasonable answer.
– Well, you said it would be fucking...I thought, here’s it!
Moscow has acquired Russia’s largest masks manufacturer.
This means only one thing: the mass regime will be extended in Moscow for at least a year!!! to
There are already first cases of the disease among members of the government.
People, having shut their breath, await the first fatal outcomes.
Byl (actually in case of self-isolation)
We lost our radio. When he lost, he left himself. He gathered all the video cassettes on the steamboat into a large plastic box and went to exchange films for the neighboring forest car. There, a radio agent found his friend - a one-handed man in Makarovka. They celebrated their meeting with drunkenness, and in the early morning the forest truck finished loading and went out into the sea, bringing our radio operator and a box with cassettes. Overall: on one steamboat there were two radiists - and on the other no one.
Fortunately, the twenty-first century has already come and the lost radiist carried a ritual function on the steamboat, fulfilling the requirements of international conventions. Today, a radiant on a ship is a profession that has almost gone into history, such as a goldsmith with a deputy or a forerunner with a lighthouse. Indeed, why carry and feed a specialist with a salary, a stock of products and a personal seat in the rescue boat, if every sailor has a mobile phone and a pair of satellite phones on the bridge. Plus the internet.
Once upon a time, we had the first captain’s assistant with a massive “Ukraine” cinematic apparatus, film drums and a ship library. Zampolit disappeared along with the Soviet Union, “Ukraine” and books. The library was equipped with a gym, and the cinema apparatus was replaced with a video magnetophone. The ship's doctor was cut down a little later, after the next financial crisis, and on the deck was drawn a circle with the letter "N" in the middle and, in emergencies, advised to call a helicopter.
The captain did not report the loss of a crew member in sailing (we did not have a radio). Therefore, the next two months we caught the insidious forestry across all of Europe’s ports to return the “lost lamb” and restore the “status quo”.
Suddenly it was discovered that there was only one cassette left on the steamboat, which the radiist forgot in the video magnetophone. It was the movie “Kin-za-za!”, which countless times reviewed the entire crew and, of course, disassembled in quotes. Everyone on the ship, unnoticed by themselves, spoke a mixture of "Chatlan-Patsak language" with marine Russian spoken. The phrase: "Chattlanin told the Ecyloope to send the puppy to the gravitaceous tank to spin" could, depending on the context, mean: "the master ordered the Bothman to send a sailor to check the performance of the brachpile" or "the starmeh instructed the watch mechanic to assign a motorist to clean the filter of the nasal ballast pump."
Finally, two months later, an untouchable forest truck, a drunk radio driver and a box of cassettes were caught in the port of Malmö. The master, as a knowledgeable of marine traditions, expressed "to this lamb" many familiar and unfamiliar, for the radiest of words and expressions, reinforcing his monologue with active gestures. And the next day the trembling radiist understood: "something is wrong!" that is, he clearly captured with his trained ear individual sounds, and sometimes even entire words of his native language, but the meaning of what was said constantly escaped from his understanding. For example: on the offer of a botzman to borrow that "chat" the radiist did not know what to borrow. The announcement of the watchdog assailant on the general court broadcast: "Attention, on board the yellow pants, all twice ku!" brought the poor radio player into sacred horror. And when the cock in the smoking room asked for "kz", the frightened radioist for some reason decided that he would now become a victim of the "energy vampire".
Recalling the phrase from the children's cartoon that "they go crazy alone, it's just the flu they all get sick together" the radiist concluded logically: "everything! “I drove a cockpit, and I couldn’t get all the crew mad at the same time.” The team also began to notice that the returned colleague behaves somehow inadequately, does not always understand simple questions, asks obvious things and gets confused in words. And when he went to surrender to the master, acknowledging his disturbance, it turned out that the crew and the radiist's opinions about the mental state of the latter were entirely the same. There was only one thing needed - to clarify the diagnosis.
They gathered a consilium of the ship from the captain, the commander and the radio operator. For a long time, we decided exactly where the roof went. There were two possible options, however, as is appropriate with every decent consilium. The master, referring to his own experience, assumed a slight temporary dementia against the background of unwavering drunkenness and said that nothing terrible, and with this people live, and walk in the sea, and even become captains. Starpom, who was proud that he was the only person on board who not only watched but also read “Master and Margarita,” assured: “It’s schizophrenia, as it was said.” The radiologist frightenedly agreed to both diagnoses. He then demanded that the helicopter be immediately called and delivered to the shore for a full medical examination. The master replied, “You won’t have a Cinderella, we are now in anti-temptation. In two days we will go to the cat for the rainbow. There we will give you to the local ethylopes, and while you isolate yourself in the ethic, you are suddenly contagious." “Or ‘you’ll get worried’ – supported the captain with a start. At the end of the consilium, the radio operator was locked in the cabin and reclaimed all his alcoholic beverages.
Without alcohol, the isolated became very sad. He decided to see a movie and found only one film he had not seen yet.
After an hour and a half, the radio operator called the starp and, squeezing from excitement, said: "I can be quarantined, I am now learning the Chattlan-Patsak language." “The worsening has begun and the patient is getting anxious,” the starter understood. Having taken with him a botzman, a wire wheel and a straw, Starpom decided to strengthen measures of self-isolation until the complete fixation of the patient.
After opening the cabin, they saw that the radio operator put a video magnetophone in a pause and feverishly rewrites the "chattlano-patsak language dictionary" from the TV screen to himself in a notebook. Starpom looked at the screen and shockedly asked, "How have you managed in so many years so never to see this movie?“!”
The inhabitants of Saratov ask the Navka to give them the clock of Peskov.
From the sale of the clocks the city will be able to reach until autumn.
In the distant 2003 year, at a lesson of land studies, we were asked to write a short story about how our city will look like in the 21st century. Almost all classmates in paintings described a prosperous city of the future. I, being impressed by the newly released third Terminator, wrote a story in a post-apocalyptic spirit, where poverty and destruction reigned in the city.
In the end, I was called to a school psychologist and told that I shouldn’t think so.
Oh, I remember 15 years ago I came somehow to the glorious city of Kharkiv from afar, for the Olympiad. Winter, no acquaintances, the phone is sitting, the button, the batteries then still easily offset. I need to charge my phone, how? Ask for a rooster? Shameful, long and dangerous. Therefore, I decide to buy finger batteries, an isolant, a piece of wire, you can all up to a voltage of 4.5v and attach it directly to the phone’s battery. And since in the courtyard is winter, cold, where is it best to do it? is right! In the metro! It is not cold there! And since there is no subway in my hometown, this idea doesn’t seem stupid to me. The HD. So imagine a teenager sitting on a subway station in a mobile phone, wire, wrapping all this with an isolant (blue, of course). Oh Oh! Generally speaking, it’s almost over, as comrades in the pursuit approach and ask, what are you doing here? I answered honestly. They say, go with us. And so quietly...I imagine what would be now... As a result, they looked over, hinted that from the side it looks mildly strange, punished so not to do it anymore and released, even without hand.
A few years ago, several families went to a holiday home outside the city for a weekend. There was a husband, wife and two children among us. The room cost 3,600, the price included breakfast for two, for an additional 300 rubles you can order another breakfast. So this guy with the mouth foam on the reception proved that once breakfast 300, then for the room you can pay 3000, refusing two included breakfasts))) Did not run, paid 3600.But all the weekend oral on the children and wife for the damaged mood!
P.S. In the room there was a bed and two non-slip chairs. Additionally, it was possible to rent 2 children's rackets for 300 rubles each. And what do you think? The kids slept on their chairs!
And yes, for the rental of a mangal site with sea views, he promised to transfer his part to the map. I think you understood.)
In the 2000s, when I was 18, I persuaded my mother to let me go to my family in Dnipropetrovsk (Ukraine). We went every year, but this time it didn’t work.
Only 3 days on the train and I was in Moscow) there I had to sit in the waiting room at 6 a.m. and move onto another train to Dnipro.
In the train, I met my family: my mother and two graduate sons were going to Peter to enroll. And here we sit with them in the waiting room, Mom went out to buy something. They are waiting for their train, I am my own. by Boltaem. And here are 3 bulls, I saw such necks for the first time (do not hold hands) and begin to calmly press us so. Give them all the money or we’ll break your legs right away. A lot of people around us, but all at one time stuck in newspapers, magazines. Even the grandmothers fell asleep. To say that it was scary is to say nothing. My mom put my money in the underwear on the way and I already imagined how to get the money from there in the middle of the station. When they caught one of the guys, his mother appeared far away and she cried. It’s not just apologizing for what’s happening. Namely, a wild scream on the whole station and here immediately the police, who looked at us peacefully began to confuse and reassure her. The chiefs left quietly. It was a great experience for me to behave unstandardly in difficult situations and not hope for a large crowd of people.
xxx: By the way, who can say, I sometimes call numbers from Germany, the Netherlands, as I raise the phone immediately thrown down. Google is not broken. What a fist?
You are a “sleeping agent.” For general safety, you were removed from your memory and replaced with false memories that you were an ordinary family member and a worker. But the world is in danger again, so the Federal Intelligence Service of Germany is trying to activate you by calling and by phone transmitting an infrasound code that should awaken real memories. Unfortunately, you have lived in Russia for too long, your brain is too softened by alcohol and reading social networks and does not respond to the signals to action.
The world on the brink of collapse...
Many years ago I worked as a seller in a store selling discs (DVD, mp3 and all this wild). The work was quite steep, I saw all kinds of representatives of the straight, but now it's not about that.
We worked alternately for 2 people, we were 3rd, two girls and me.
And then one day before lunch one of the girls complained that her boyfriend put a wallpaper on the phone with naked grandmothers. We discussed this topic and a brilliant idea came to our mind - to put her naked men in the phone.
There was no internet at work, but my home, where I had a PC with network access, was literally across the road. I decided to go home for lunch and find pictures of naked men.
He came home, turned on the music by the habit of louder (something al-la infant annihilator), he warmed up to eat and sat down to look.
He lived without his parents, but his father always had the keys and free access to the apartment.
I sit looking, eat my lunch and here the track is quiet, before switching to the next and behind my back I hear the voice of my father: "You are on***, what p***c?“”
For a long time I proved that it was not what he thought, the good of the partner didn’t get stuck and immediately confirmed my words. ))
The terms for the Presidential decrees have expired: working days, non-working days, weekends, weekend workers, weekends non-working workers, holiday workers, holiday weekends, working non-working workers and non-working self-isolating workers.
One of the conditions to go to work with pleasure is to love your job.
But is it hard to love your job and bring people a good mood?
Or is it involuntary to make others admire their work, not creative at all?
From my life in Moscow, I remembered two such people.
1st She worked at the metro station Octoberskaya, where the transition from the ring to the radial is a small escalator in length and depth. The officer’s budka looked “with the face” at the descendants.
During those years, she seemed to me old) with a faint face, always in a red cap, and always with lively eyes and a smile on her face.
She was unrepeatable and irresistible) She addressed almost everyone who descended on "her" escalator, with a smile, who had time - said some kind words, somehow joked, looking at her, the mood was always up.
When we saw her, we always smiled, she was like a single whole with the station of Octoberskaya)Without a cap, we could no longer imagine this transition. It was evident that the work was pleasing to her.
Work on an escalator with the maximum length of 30 meters
Oh my cap! This is how we called her between us. Subconsciously expecting that every time we move to the radial, we will see it, saddened when there was no change. There was no ordinary ritual. There was no reason to smile. Something good and usual was missing.
And then she disappeared. She was replaced by duty officers with a dull downward glance and an indifferent face.
Looking into the monitor? She also looked into the monitor. But her service raised everyone’s mood.
2nd The end of the 90s - the beginning of the 2000s. I am at the beginning of the highway. Communal services are paid only in Sberbank - or then still Sberkassa? I don’t remember, in my area this process could take half a day, and I couldn’t afford such a luxury. In front of the work, in Mogajka, right at the stop, there is also a sberbank, but it was even worse than in my five-storey Cheremuškki with houses that were sprinkled like mushrooms after a good rain.
On the other side of the neighborhood, where there was an office, was, and now I think is, the Red Star Street, and in one of the corner houses on the nine-story was Sberbank and the post office.
The area here was also inhabited and the neighborhood was dormant, but on the other side of the Red Stars were railways and the number of potential visitors to these vital objects at the time was narrowed to the inhabitants of the neighborhood, houses inhabited in the 60-70s. The neighborhood was also in ruins.
And I used to spend lunch time paying the communal in this sberkass.
The window was, if I am not mistaken, not less than 3, the line was also, but in one window the line was always almost lightning. So by the empirical method I began to pay only in this window.
A professional worked there. No, not the professional. The highest class. No one ever stood by her window. She only had to look at the receipt and tell me where the numbers were wrong—if there was a mistake—I had the impression that she knew all of those numerous account numbers, consisting of 20 digits. In turn, if it arose due to a technical interruption, it was dissolved immediately. All the comments on the receipts she had were clear and short, excluding a repeat question. Because it was clear)
I went to this sberkassa, rather to this operationalist, for several years. I told my colleagues about it, they didn't believe me) we went to make sure. Everyone was, say, very surprised.
I told her about her at home. I was not believed either.
I went specifically to check, now my households were surprised.
Once again, I went to pay for this scrap.
The officer stood at the entrance and smoked. She looked somewhere, thinking about something, at least her face was not smiling. I went into the room and then thought and went out. When there will be such a chance.
“I would like to tell you that you are a real professional... You work this way, you always help everyone in these intricate numbers and, most importantly, quickly. Do not stay in line for a long time. Thanks to you!
thank you! The operator was surprised and somehow delighted. “You’re the only one who said good words to me,” she smiled bitterly. I have complaints to my boss. I work too fast. I have hated the Soviet times. The local grandmothers don’t like it. They want to stand in line...
I don’t remember if Sberbank employees had badges at that time, but there was a sign with the employee’s name and surname on the bench.
Svetlana Odoevskaya, thank you again!
Sechin asked Putin for state support for Rosneft. “We need the help of the state,” he said.
He has to allocate a one-off payment of 10,000 rubles, as mothers with children.
I rested with my mother in the sanatorium and she enrolled me for a reception. For free, it is included in the price of the trip. The psychologist got a bunch of leaves and signed what to draw on each. There were “the house”, “I”, “my family”, “the non-existent animal” and I don’t remember what else. She gave them to me in the room as a homework. I only had a pencil ball with me. No pencil, flommasters and so on. An unusual tool for a child)) In short, the house was painted with stripes so that the line of the walls was smoother. Because I painted on the bed, putting an A4 sheet on a book that was about the size of A5. It was not possible to make the line immediately. And in the self-portrait, in order not to draw my fingers, which I always managed only to try the tenth (and there is no pencil with a washing machine), I painted my hands in my pockets. By the way, family members also did not hold their hands, because she did not know how to draw the folded fingers with one attempt. In short, on the basis of these facts (the lines of the walls and the hands in my pockets) the doctor made my psychological portrait. Nothing good came out there) And uncertainty, and closure, and lack of unity in the family... I tried to explain the lack of a pencil, but no one listened to me. I hated psychologists.