Coffee in the squad, the Moscovites drink Chinese green teas with mysterious names, something like "The Emperor's Ears in the Autumn Tea." The taste is so subtle that we can hardly feel it. Even more progressive to drink mate. In taste resembles fresh seed with menthol, but miraculously revitalizes and is very useful.

under the criterion "hard to stand" perfectly suited and buoy in the shield man 40 years,

I remember the rules of public transportation (hanging in all buses, trolley buses and trams)
There was a section "Passengers are forbidden" (just so, to see in the printing mistake in the set), which meant that the passenger was forbidden to be in the tarnsport in a drunk state.
A drunk man is thrown out of the car.

by Don Corleone:

Yes, you gave me a seat in the tram, but you gave it without respect.

I got a few gastrointestinal sores, and they gave a very sharp and severe weight loss... Visits to the doctor and treatment are attached by default, the trick is that I can eat a very limited number of products. And it is not about the prohibitions of the doctor, although they are, but in the reactions of the body. In short, there was a great feast "all dance": he, this organism, agreed to take in the manna meal and not to be nomadic. I stand and boil. Mother stumbles into the kitchen and begins: - This is a morning meal with a bunch of calories! You will become fat. “Mom, I wasn’t fat when I was born, you have to remember! “No, you’ll be fat and you’ll eat cabbage in the morning! and Mom! By my unusual habits the structure of the skeleton can be studied! I have one diagnosis – dystrophy! (The mantra of the morning and the girtreast is repeated many times).
Do you know what is saddest? According to this dialogue and some other signs, the mother begins dementia.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh Here is an interesting story.
Karoch, you know, in Japan, cool businessmen have such a joke. They eat sushi with the naked grandmother. Well, she is all on the table, like a frog prepared, and on it - sushi, rolls, all the huniya is broken down.
HHH: So is it.
I have a magazine, Maxim. I use it as a decoupage board and pull out pages from it to put sandwiches on them, there, all kinds of shit.
HHH: So is it. Yesterday I ate butter with mayonnaise from the tits of Tatiana Kotova.
The budget option.

If a girl is trusted by you to carry out a can of garbage, she is not yet a wife, but no longer a mistress.

Russia has tightened the rules for wearing the Georgian tape.

From this year, the symbol is allowed to wear only on the blanket of the jacket.
The tape can not be attached to bags, wheelchairs, cars, below the belt, as well as on the head or in a damaged form.

I have two questions to the authors:

1st If I have a lace from an old paddle, can I fix the Georgian tape on it and already hang this design on a bag, wheelchair, car, etc.? to
2nd Is it true that from next year on the "Immortal Regiment" campaign will be allowed only biometric photographs taken not later than six months?

When will you stop holding people for idiots?

The psychiatrist ticks me a sheet of paper:
What do you see?
A sad, lonely person who is tired of communicating with idiots, boring work and other life injustice.
The doctor cried out:
And in the picture?
I wanted to embrace him.

Dear Homophobes!
Don’t be happy that gay people are being persecuted. Anyone can call you gay, and then you will be persecuted. Not a rocker, anybody. Your true orientation and actual sexual behavior will not bother anyone.

In the capital it is customary to behave as if you can buy anything, but very selective. Therefore, looking at the new Aston Martin, the right moscovite will criticize the design, doubt as ball supports and, having concluded on the feasibility of the purchase, go to the nearest subway to consume the shaurma.

The question on an English-language website for teenagers: “If I let my boyfriend lick my nipples, will my breasts get bigger?” And I think: a good attempt, man! and ;))

Pilkunnussija - "Pedant" In Finnish, it literally means "The Thief of the Heels. Very rough, but very accurate word.

While I was pregnant, I was given the place of a woman in the transport, the men pretended that all the disabled people from childhood and only move on coals. But they were all swallowed by one bump, which ticked my finger into my stomach, like I put a pillow there.

You probably don’t know why you were born. And I know exactly.
The case was so. My father left the village after the army to Peter, met my mother and married her. They first gave birth to my older brother. I was not in a hurry to give birth. I have not been in a hurry for seven years. But here from the village came to enter the institute the younger brother of my father, the beloved son of my grandmother. And sent from her from the village letters asking him to help him materially. To buy clothes, to buy books, to give money. The father did everything, but at some point he said, “Yes, I’m better off with my child than with this child!” and gave birth. Since then, requests from the village have ceased, as I have served a good ransom.

I once always thought that in the subway nobody is obliged to think for me, if I am so bad that I can not stand, you have to polite ask. It always worked, failed once. I was told that I - I quote - don't look bad enough to give in. I hope this person doesn’t work in the admissions committee of the theatre institute, because I was very pregnant and ten minutes after that story I fainted. Thanks for the compliment!

Your exciting story about how the roses are salted in your Cargopol can scare and upset the Moscovite. He is so secretly convinced that the inhabitants of the strange and dangerous country surrounding Moscow live in cages, eat raw ice cream and worship the Mother of the Eagles. Do not injure him with rubies, do not remind him once more about his alienity.

A series of concessions

I was 12. I was driving in the tram from the city center home to the outskirts. At one of the stops in the middle of the road came a bubble. I left without reminders. So she did all the way that I had an unhappy expression of the face and "Anta Pioneer's completely outraged"
I heard something similar later from my mom with the kids.

You didn’t fool people, right? You have quietly ceded your place, without reminders and requests, and you are also unhappy that this has happened without discharge.

I have in the profile of the dating site somehow was written "212-85-06 - this is my number". Many wrote that they could not call and what code.

At the age of 13, I was a rarely ugly child: a very thin acne worm with a large head and curved teeth. My mother embarrassed me and all the puberty period tried to keep me away from family and acquaintances, for the whole summer she sent me to the pioneer camp. The pioneer camp consisted of barracks with children, an administration building and four toilets. Toilets consisted of a brick bucket, a hole that closed this hole of wooden ceiling with holes and shit with chlorine. Dirt with chlorine smelled, so toilets were carefully built away from residential premises and placed with bushes.



Girls thought I was a boy for a long time. They were not friends with me. That fateful night, midnight diarrhea became my only companion.



The whole camp was swept: the green fruits, the unwashed hands of the cook, and all the shit that the pioneers ate with hunger, did their job. The holes in the toilet were filled with the troubled stomachs of four hundred people and the girls went to the toilet in pairs: one is stunned, the other is lit with a lamp, so that the first does not fall into the breakdown products of the predecessors. No one wanted to light a lamp on me, so that night I swept out a saltwater in proud solitude; in the dim light of the lamp only the contours were visible, and, sitting over the hole, I accepted that I had already fallen into someone's slippery shit. Suddenly, some shadow struck me, I stumbled, shook sharply with an unstable body, my legs walked through someone’s diarrhea, and I got into the spot like a well-smashed gillette. The fucking! A flying mouse has driven me through the belt into a bunch of shit, a point is blurred over my head, if someone comes to hurt now, my situation will worsen. Must go out!



Half an hour later, whispering and whispering at the mat, I reached the point with my hands: it was, fucking, difficult... all the hard supports were slippery like ice! Taking hold of the edges of the hole, I stretched and pushed my head: my head turned from the fresh air, and I held on the conquered positions only with the will to freedom. Stretched further and leaned on the elbows: you need to grasp something so as not to slip. Everything around it was slippery, you could only get stuck behind the crossed wooden balcony half a meter from me, I tried to get to it with restlessness, whispering from tension:



Well! Go here the shit! Let me reach you! ... →



Suddenly I was blinded by a flash of light, then some wrong breath, no stone, and a deaf knock... I was frightened and fell back. Half an hour later, I’m over the eye again. Yes is. We stretch? There is! I grabbed the curtain and climbed onto the concrete floor, barely breathing from happiness. After resting, I decided to go to the river to wash. At five meters from the toilet, the director was lying, a broken lamp was rolling next to him... he died, what? I went to the river, washed as I could, and then called people: maybe, and not dead yet, you can save.



In the morning we were told that the director had a stroke, he returned to the camp only at the end of the shift. He could not speak, he was sitting on the veranda all day and he liked when the children went to him. I visited him often, he loved me especially... because it was then that I invited people to him.



The following year, we learned that the director had recovered for a short time before his death. He said that night he was walking around the territory, accidentally heard a strange whisper in the toilet and opened the door. On him from the ill-smelled hole came a hellish lumpy-eyed worm, pulled a thumb to him and cried:



“Wow... go here...wow... I’ve gotten to you! ... →



It is offensive, of course.

When I was 12, I was very similar to a boy. With a short funny haircut and no visible bulges in certain places.



My mother took me on vacation to a tourist base in Kabardino-Balkaria. I was so happy as if I was traveling abroad. And the conditions, it must be said, there were wanderings, a common toilet, in the form of a standing house behind the houses. So there were holes in the floor and there were absolutely no doors in the cabins. And once again, when I ran in need to this institution, there, rushing, a grandmother was standing. When she saw me, she stumbled and cried in her throat:



Oh you stumbled! He came to look at me! ? to



Naturally, I had to explain that I am also a woman and I have a full right to be here. And I had one thing in my head at that moment: did she really think that watching her would be the highest aesthetic pleasure? ... →