Yesterday on a friend’s birthday, the guests shared their stories of dating their wives. A bunch of options, from the banals studied together or served together (yes, in the Israeli army it happens:) to...
I’m a modest guy, I just can’t approach a girl like that. My friends told me to go to Tinder. I wrote to several girls and agreed to meet one of them. Only she is on the photo without a face, while the figure is a fire. And the photo with the face to send refused - like I am so beautiful you will immediately recognize me and if you do not recognize then you do not understand the beauty and all that. I was caught - her pictures on horses are beautiful, I think she is doing horse sports - well cool! Immediately offered to sit in the bar of a very expensive hotel - but you need to start with something. I dressed beautifully and went. I come, a girl is sitting behind the stand, in a dress on the floor, all of myself, I immediately came to her, greeted her, introduced myself and began to talk about horse sports - I was preparing, studied! Only she somehow responded reluctantly, but then seemed to get involved. We drank a cocktail and found a lot in common. And only half an hour later on my question about Tinder she made astonished eyes and looked at me as an unusual. Because in no Tinder she is lost, and she has not agreed to meet with anyone. And in the hotel, she lives as herself from the region by travelling to New York for work. The name just coincided.
As a result, the second child is now waiting :)

Judging by how hard the authorities are building the churches, we have only to pray.

Behind the forest of temples it is increasingly difficult to see the Holy Spirit.

She is your mother, or How to Love

My history teacher at school was Mikhail Rybakov. You can find it on Wikipedia.

To say that he was a Jew is to say nothing.

He was neither a Jew nor a Jew, but a Jew. As in the images of the Goebbels News, with the size of the nose, a gray-plugged and carded sho French musketeer. The warts are where they are. The lesson was called “History”.

Then he left the classroom, wearing a crazy suit and a hat, in the sight of which he wanted to sing "seven or forty." There were no pearls in it. Thank God there were no smartphones and no Instagram.

He led our class by the hand to the place where Askold and Deer were killed. It was a five-minute walk from school. He showed us where they were killed and told us why, then we went to the tomb, then we went to see the Golden Gate and the underground museum. There under the glass lay the rusted weapons of our Aryan ancestors.

The place where the friends of the deceased conung Rurik jumped out of the drakkars on the Dnieper sand, and Oleg the Witcher brought out the young Ingvar, the future husband of Helga the Holy, the father of Svyatoslav the Brave and the grandfather of Vladimir the Red Sunnychko, wrapped in the prince's coat.

This is the place! A Jew cried and cried. It was all here! Why don’t you want to know this?

We were fucking.

Then we went to Illinois, the place of the very first church of Russia. We were bored, the girls went to smoke around the corner, and he ticked his finger into the building and said, “You don’t see! Two martyrs were killed here. Not mine, but yours! Peggy Russian Pgavoslav Hystyans!”

We were all fucking.

He brought to the lessons some rare foilings of the history of Ukraine, grims in a cover of the skin of virgins, and was angry when we didn’t want to teach our history. He called us “Phidugi” and “Degenegadi”. We were only looking for naked women.

Our people survived because they remembered their history. Why don’t you want to know yours?

He sat on a chair and something exploded underneath him. A simple system of head of light bulbs and scissors.

We are rugged. We were fucking.

Of course, it was sent by kebenimathers from all schools. Because it was impossible to teach Ukrainian history so clearly in the USSR. The latter, it seems, was a school in Rusanovka, where a Jew who was stunned by the history of Ukraine was killed.

Here is.

I was taught the history of my country by a funny and ridiculous Jew. A district laugh. A clown in a wet coat and a covered hat. But now I know – how the warriors were planted, how the Golden and Lyd Gate were standing, why the Lutezh and Bukrinsk plateau, I know the history of Magdeburg law and where the tomb of Ilya Muromz.

Three colonels came out of my class, one of the General Staff. Children's famous illustrator, European swimming champion, and I, not the god of the sho, but I also try.

You understand why I, a Ukrainian, consider any anti-Semitic as a personal enemy.

And I remember, Mikhail Alexandrovich, by the nickname “Gus”, as you sadly said with your hose burned on your ass, looking out the class window.

Ukraine is your mother. You don’t love your mother at all?

Behind the window was rain, the corner of 310 cabinets, the third floor of school No. 30. We were fucking. We were all Komsomolers.

Your people have walked in the wilderness for forty years. We only travel thirty.

I will not forget, Mikhail Alexandrovich, how a Jew taught me to love Ukraine. I would like to say thank you and honestly whisper for all the bad - but... you will not hear me anymore.

Judging by the incomes of deputies, world drug trafficking passes through the State Duma, and judging by the laws adopted, it ends there.

I was 4 years old and when I sat down to eat I drove my mom out. I will not eat from this plate, give it another. My mother translated. And I’m telling my mother again and I’m not going to go from this one, let’s go from another. Then, the same thing with the glass, I will not drink from this, so my mom spilled and transferred 5-10 times there. I also changed skirts and skirts.



A grandmother comes and sees this picture. He said, “Give it to me for a few days.

My mom gave it.



I tried to do the same with my grandmother at lunch. I will not eat from this plate.

The Grandmother:

You will not? Well, okay, the cat will and toss out my cat’s food. The next meal is after dinner. Yes, I didn’t cry for a long time, because I quickly realized that it was useless. Children know who can be manipulated and who can not.

I tried for the next meal, again to check my caprices, but I was quickly out of training 2-3 days was enough.



My grandmother was not a sadist. My grandmother died in 1998 when I was 17. I loved and respected her and visited her frequently, almost every weekend, until her death.

And by the way, she never beat (their parents were beaten with a belt sometimes) and never shouted at us and our brother, but was an authority for us and we obeyed her.

She adhered to a simple rule – “I said – do,” it works very powerful.

When I was 14 or 15 years old, I had a diary. In it, I wrote about my teenage experiences, about my first love, made plans and “offended” my parents and my younger sister. And it was mine, personal, that nobody should ever have read! But one day my mom found it and read it (I understood it when she accidentally spoke about what she shouldn’t know). And then I burned it... in the oven... one leaf of it, and I burned it. And my mother in the next room pretended to be asleep, and she cried quietly in her pillow...I heard this, but then I was very upset that someone invaded my personal space without permission.



Of course, I understood why she did this, but much, much later, when she became a mother.



One day, while browsing the school table during the summer holidays, I got a notepad of my second-grade daughter, cut out of a notebook (I did it before). It didn’t look like a diary, and I decided to look at it. The paintings are mainly... On one page of a child’s handwriting was written:



“Today my mom tossed me again. I can’t tolerate cows!”



I felt terribly uncomfortable about invading somebody’s private, even my little daughter... But since then I haven’t wrapped her a single bit until she asked for it. It was in 9th grade!



by Zy. My personal space has been invaded many times... But worse than this was not me, but those who did it!



Thank you for reading!) This is personal, of course, but you can! ? All are good!

Time can cure everyone, but not everyone.

The mayor of Yekaterinburg agreed to conduct an independent survey on the construction of the temple in the square, according to the results of the survey won daughter Alsu.

Before going to the store for food, it is desirable to eat tightly.

I live in Dacia. and yesterday. In the morning, I drink coffee on the veranda. They knock, let go - gastarbayters, cultural, polite:
"Lord, let's cut the lawn for you, only 5,000, we won't take it expensive.
I answered:
God, I came with my grass-cutting machine, thank you, I don’t have to.
They smile and refuse:
I’m sorry master))
and today. The car was stolen)))

The temple built in the place of the square is a wicked temple.

I waited today at the children’s clinic until the child’s X-rays were taken. Mother and son were sitting next door. The boy is not to be stuck, but his eyes are confused, like the eyes of a bad cat. His mother taught him before swimming competitions. At first, he spoke quietly. About the fact that it is not necessary to lay out on the heating, it is better to repeat the turn from the back to the brace.

And then suddenly:

“Who is your main enemy? and!! Who is? Answer, who is your main enemy?

The boy blows, “Who, who is my chief...”

Mother: I am afraid! Fear is your biggest enemy! What do you need to overcome fear?”

The boy: “It’s necessary...”

Mother: You have to be confident in yourself. Are you sure of yourself? Tell me, are you confident in yourself?”

Here the radiologist came out and called me to the office, so I did not hear the answer. I think my pants were wet.

For the last 30 years, my dad has cut a few branches of sirene and flies every spring.

He squeezes them into a bucket. And no matter what in the world they are or in a quarrel - it must give to my mother.

“Look what a bucket of cabbage I gave you. He always speaks when he gives it.

Dad is an irreparable romantic.

There is nothing more stupid than the confidence in tomorrow.

At nine in the morning, I went to the shower, bound my hair with cowards, so as not to get wet. At three o’clock in the afternoon, after two meetings, we walked through half the city. I forgot to remove it from my head.

If the sanctified satellite did not go into orbit, it means that it is sinful and has nothing to do in heaven.
Explanatory note from Roscosmos.

It was 15-17 years ago. I, a young and without a tower, walked on a walk, stayed with the girl. In the morning, a little confused by what was happening, I noticed that the girl was very confused by something. Or worried about. He looks away, and smiles somehow through force. Well, I decided that the snoring entertained her all night, nothing terrible, and comfortably said goodbye, went to the service. After staff troubles, when I got back for lunch, I began to remember something...I felt like I woke up at night because of the noise. And said something. And the fact is that I lived at the time in a dormitory where a lot of mice lived. All together, all together, they were poisoned and destroyed by traps, but every year in the spring (when the water is poured into the coves) and in the autumn (when it becomes cold to live in the field) mice stormed our community. I fired them during the day with a pneumatic ISH-53M pistol, and at night these bastards shattered on the floor, sometimes preventing me from sleeping. And I powerlessly watered them with a selective mat... Feeling sinful, in the evening I come to a friend, and I begin to tell her about the mice, the gun and the communion. Gradually my girlfriend’s face becomes more fun. Then she told me what happened last night. She got up in the middle of the night to drink water. And when I returned, it was a little rumored, which I, accepting the noise of a friend for the noise of mice, lifting my head from the pillow and looking into the wall, said loudly and clearly, "STILL! I will shoot Nader!”

I ride a bicycle through the forest. I see a woman walking with a big dog. Without a rope and a rope, it is worn around her. This is the forest, so it is possible. But terrible.

To resolve the situation, I address a woman:

Will your dog eat me?

This this? No, this will not eat.

And here I hear behind my back a crack of branches. The woman continues:

This may be...

I found a group of Israeli tourists at a restaurant in India. One of them, a 65-year-old man, quietly served a cigarette (the wife forbade him to smoke). The man was from Melitopol, in Israel since the late 1980s. I stood in front of the restaurant and smoked. His wife goes out to the balcony:

Quit the cigarette immediately! What is this bearded pot around you?

He is a Jew from Moscow.

Does he know Hebrew?

and no.

“Put him in the ass, throw out the puddle and go up to the restaurant right away!

A man for me:

Have you heard? I went.

Why did you both speak Russian?

If we were to speak in Hebrew in your presence, which you do not understand, it would be untouchable to you.