St. Petersburg made and installed border pillars in the forest in the Leningrad region. For his services on crossing the "border" with Finland, he took from migrants from South Asia 10 thousand euros.
This is by the press service of the FSB border administration.
by ******

Nabiullina named the reasons for the strengthening of the ruble. “I’m sorry, I was on vacation,” the head of the Central Bank commented.

One day I drove to the south. At the break between Bataysk and Rostov I realized that I needed to sleep and rest. Winter, the night and the wind. The steep tourist shoes purchased yesterday wiped their legs in blood. Heavy backpack on his shoulders. I decide to go to Bataysk, because ten kilometers before it, and to Rostov 18.

On the outskirts of Bataysk I see an old five-story building, one of the entrances is closed to the code castle. I approach, guess the code on the deleted buttons, climb up to the upper floor. There is no light on the staircase. I sit on the stairs, my backpack under my head, trying to fall asleep.

The door knocks down and the stairs hurry. He stands up and stops in front of me. “Why are you lying here, right?” I answer that I am driving by car, tired, I need to sleep a couple of hours. “You can’t sleep here! Here people walk, any woman will go, will stumble at you in the darkness, will be scared!” I decide not to argue, I am going to leave. “Where have you gathered? Come to my house!“”

I enter the apartment. In the hall there is a woman and two young children (a boy and a girl aged five to seven). The woman does not ask a single question. I dress up and go to the shower. I get a clean towel. Then they sit at the table and we and the Armenian eat a tight dinner, drink a bunch of vodka. While we were eating, the woman laid me on the floor. I lay down, awakened by the alarm: the master's time to work. They quietly got up, ate breakfast, went out. Five minutes went together, he told me that he had a vegetable cane. Then I said goodbye and went back to the road. Soon he was already sitting in a cozy fur and drove to the sea. This is the Caucasian hospitality.

Literally a couple of minutes ago, I was called from an unknown number, I picked up the phone and usually spoke.

(I am I; C is the interlocutor)

I – Listen

C - Somebody there Rinat, can I tell you about our company?

I – Listen

I can tell you, can I?

I am listening, right?

Talk about the company, right?

I listen, I listen

Thirty seconds of silence.

After the interlocutor dropped the phone.

I don’t know what it was, probably some sort of divorce; I didn’t say “yes” just by chance...

I am sitting at work, a call from the Russian Post, a small package came to your name. On my question: one or several, the operator said that he would call everyone. I was called 8 times in 20 minutes.

It is optimization!

My parents live on the third floor. On the 1st floor below is the bank. The first and second floors are a meter wider than the others. Under the balcony of my parents is the shifter roof of the balcony of the 2nd floor.

Summer night, heat, the balcony door is open, only the frame with mosquito grid is closed. The parents are sleeping. Suddenly the father wakes up and sees a man stealing from the balcony through the room. The father waited for the man to go out into the hallway, took the scissors from the table, quietly followed the man into the hallway (the man has already gone to the entrance door and is trying to open it) and quickly closed the room door until the mother woke up.

The man turns around, and the father recognizes the neighbor by the staircase cage. The dialogue is whispering. The neighbor:

“Oh my, Valery, I’m sorry, I wanted to go here.

Are you fooled? ! to Why is? ? to

- Yeah, I went to the store in the evening, met the root, it all, they drank, one sat down. Then I look at two o’clock at night. He went home, and lost the keys of the tambour somewhere. I'm afraid to call: my whole night will bite me, and I'm tired. So I walked onto the bottom roof, looking at your balcony is open. I think the stitch quietly through your apartment into the tambour, you will not wake up. Sorry if you...

That same summer, parents finally enclosed the balcony.

It was in 2003. I was 12 years old.

The May holidays in the working Ural town were always celebrated with bitterness and these were no exception. My father invited me to go with him and his chickens on a spring fishing trip to the Pacific Bay of a beautiful Tajik river. How could I refuse?

Taiga has just taken off its winter chains and blossomed under the hot May sun. It was very warm and good. We walked the path, the men joked, told each other something, and I went and listened.

By the way, such a company we went fishing very often and nothing predicted trouble. When we arrived, the fishing began. I was given a whip and I went to catch the oak. I will not be describing the events in the middle of the day. By the time I came to the fire, my father and the men were already in shape. I knew with my childhood brain that the way back would take a long time and told my father that it was time for us to go home. To my surprise, he agreed and we left. But not the path that came, but decided to throw the "direction".

The "direction" was long and painful. The whole taiga was swollen by the melting snow and in some places cold streams had to be forced by spring water. We managed this and went out to the edge of the forest, where apparently the Batty forces left. He said he would rest a little. He lay down on the grass, put his backpack under his head and... fell asleep!

I turned around him like a whale trying to awaken a relative. But it was all in vain. The mind is obscured by the sameon, and the head is burnt with the May sun. He slept sweet.

Since I, like any probably boy, had a fist in the ass since birth, I just couldn’t sit next to my sleeping father. I had to go home. I pulled out of the valve of my backpack a piece of berry wrapped in a pipe and scratched it with a knife: “Dad, I’ve gone home.”  I put it in his hand. Having moved a little on the spot, I still decided to go home oriented towards the river, because I knew that my house was below the river.

In May, the river naturally poured all the shores, it had to go holding to the edge of the floodwater. A couple of times in my way flooded groves arose, one of them I successfully bypassed, and the other - the largest forced in short rubber boots. Naturally, I was all dirty and dirty. At seven o’clock in the evening, I finally got home. He opened the apartment, cooked peelings and sat down to dinner.

At 8 p.m. my mother came from work and asked where my father was. I had to tell her everything from the beginning. She arrived in a light shore (sorry for the mat, but I can't describe it differently) and said that when he came, he was over. At twelve o’clock the father came, sober and in a fierce shock. When he saw me, he said, “Yes, you’re home! I’m in the garage to live” and without waiting for my mom’s rugi went into the garage. He lived there for about a week.

This is a true family folklore. We often remember and laugh. And my father is very proud that I guessed to leave a note on the barrel.

We went on a taxi on 31.12.2018 in the evening to visit, we go with our wife talking, and upon arrival to the place decided to make a taxi driver a gift. And then he turns around with the words, “Yes, thank you, I’ve already drank,” and sets us out at sunset!! to

I remembered how on my five-year-old we went to the "Children's World" for a gift, my parents wished that I would choose what the soul would like.

Dad proudly led me to the shelf with the dolls and began to praise the doll-in-law, then the doll-stewardess in turn: apparently then began conversations with me about career orientation, about life choices and interests.

I chose a huge insured macaca with a long brown tail and a wooden head, saying:

This is Shurik! He will live with us!



Dad knew it would happen someday, but he hoped there would be 15 years left! He breathed and agreed to Shurika.

Because of the laziness, a person does his job quickly and qualitatively, so as not to rework.

Vladimir Bortko told me.
The movie “The Dog’s Heart” was finished. Preobražensky, of course, was Evstygneev. The beard asked me to let go, it’s not makeup. The money is allocated, the actors are at a low start. But there is no shark! All the files were broken, even Kolya Karatenov asked. Not that.
I say to the assistants, “Do what you want, but I need a dog!”
I went to the studio in the morning. I have the girls: “They came from Alma-Ata! The Tolokonnikov name. A local actress, of course, but look at it at least.”
I open the door to the office and immediately close it. There is a dog in a jacket sitting on the chair.

Jehovah’s Witnesses arrived. The dialogue.
Good day.
Hi to you! We are Jehovah’s Witnesses. God sent us today with good news to you.
Yes, I know, I’ve been waiting for you since morning.
They are looking forward to the continuation with interest.
He sent me a SMS this morning. They will come to you, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and say that it is from me. Tell them, this was a contact check, let them go back.

Uncovered laughter is often overwhelmed irony.

My mother told.

When you and my brother were young, leaving the house, I pulled out the seals from the TV and hid it until you could see. He tried to save each time in a new place. And here somehow I come back in the evening, tired, I want to rest at the telephone, and, even if you kill, I don't remember where I hid the safeguards. I walk around the apartment with a worried face and look for it. You are watching me with interest.

Finally, you, Masha, can’t stand it:
Mom, what are you looking for?
The guards.
Are these small glass tubes? Here they are, you open the servette and get them out of the sugar bar.
And you, angry, how do you know?! to
We need to watch TV somehow.

The announcement that the tax on electric cars in the Tambov region has been abolished suggests the only idea: the governor’s son has bought Tesla.

I remember a few years ago leaving me and the marketing director from partners. Both beloved, I have a fifth of projects hanging on it as a child's chest, on it the department and all communication.

Tired, dragging through the tc to the parking lot behind the car.



Around the immense Ashan uncle with a calm smile rides on a machine washing the floor with brushes. There will pass, here, brushes scratch on the floor, leaving behind cleanliness.



We stopped, driving the machine with our eyes.

He: You want to go there now too, isn’t that all?

I am UGU...



We looked at the happy uncle for a moment and went to the office.

Remembering the films “The Dark City”, “13th Floor”, well, and, of course, “The Matrix”...

The usual Soviet street thermometer was placed on the brick wall of the place for smoking in our department. It was installed for a long time and now - during smartphones and other gadgets, it was virtually useless. But yet, going out to smoke, every second time approached him and looked at the scale. Just by habit. Just nothing to do.

It was an ordinary day at the end of November, when my colleague and I went to smoke after lunch. I almost immediately "by tradition" did not rush to the thermometer, Kolyan supported the tradition. and further dialogue. (I am kneeling and I am kneeling)

K: Well what does he say?

I am minus twelve. And in terms of feelings, the whole “twentieth.”

Q: I need to make it warmer.

After these words, Kolyan with the expression of the maniac's face got the lighter, brought it under the thermometer and lit it. The red fluid instantly revived and popped up the scale. Literally two seconds later, when the jet crossed the "0" line, the entire wall together with the thermometer suddenly poured out of sunlight. The cloud went away and the sun shone somehow unusually brightly for the end of November. For a moment it seemed like it was hot on the street. The knee removed the lighter, the liquid already lazyly reached the mark "+40", after which, gaining acceleration, headed back - down the scale. And when it crossed the "0" mark and began to fall "below zero", the sun was again hidden by another cloud. The seemingly banal coincidence caused some contradictory emotions and awakened the child’s turbulent fantasy. His voice suddenly interrupted my thinking process.

K: Unfortunately, in real life, no scripts can’t be used.

I: Who said it? Maybe we just don’t know the right programming language? Or is it even easier – we just don’t have enough access rights?

Let me forgive the RPC, but that day this thought did not leave me until the evening.

P.S Health Warns: Smoking Harms Your Wallet!

Money is usually missing where it comes from.

I talked to a friend from Moscow.
And this morning, the neighbor came in to share the joy. This neighbor has a new position in the state structure.

- I will work for three years, - the neighbor shares his joy, - then I will sit for three years - they will not give it anymore - and for the rest of his life is secured.

What positions are you in today! Not only do you know in advance how much you will "earn" on it, but also how much you will have to sit down - you also know in advance!

These days, the lines "Here my dear has left, will not return, left only his card" sound not so sad.