I was called from a charity and told that they were collecting money to help children with disabilities. I said that I still help kids with specialties and give them a job. My colleagues have heard this and are now offended :(

On the road behind the city stopped at a gasoline station. When I was about to leave, I was approached by a very young, but very bearded and very sensitive guy of a very Caucasian appearance. He had a ten-litre canister in his hands.

Can you take 5 miles? I finished gasoline, came here, and back with the canister is hard.

Having examined all possible divorce options and the possibility of robbery/attacks/abductions, I did not find the strength to refuse the guy. We put the canister in the trunk and went. A few kilometers later, on the sidelines, “in a clean field” really stood a lonely “law”. I stopped and gave the canister.

thank you! Do you accidentally have a wreck? Asked the guy.

“No... But here’s a bottle of plastic jamurjuka, almost empty. Cut and there will be a wreath.

“I don’t have a knife,” the man complained. "Fuck, a Caucasian without a knife, I will tell who - they won't believe," I thought.

Is there a fireplace? Burn and float. It burns normally. There was an altruist in me.



At the moment when the guy burned the first hole at the bottom of the bottle, a police car slowed down next to us and a loud voice came from it: "Do you help, addicts?"

Following the voice appeared an uncle who squeezed the clavier of the lost machine.

It would be good to help, but why are drug addicts? I was aware.

- And you can give me some other version, why do you need a bottle with a hole and a lighter? I asked the roadguard.

- Making a wreath, to pour fuel from a canister into a tank - is this option suitable?

Why not cut?

There is no knife.

- Fuck, two Caucasians without a knife, I'll tell who - they won't believe! “And after cutting the knife, the police officer quickly broke the bottle, made sure that the fuel was poured into the tank and headed to his car. I said goodbye to everyone and shouted to the police officer: “I’m not a Caucasian, I didn’t shave for three weeks on a business trip,” blown up on my seat and sinking into the burning sunset. And what shouted the bearded guy in the rear-view mirror with his hand remains unknown to everyone...

I drive my business in my car, my cell phone. I don’t like driving, I decided to slow down. I stopped at the outskirts (in a quiet area of the city), took my cell phone, answered the message. The passenger door opens, the grandfather sits. Silent, sitting and clinging, he sits. I said, “Hello, what do you do?” He named the address. Well, I took it, it was nearby, he gave 100r. He accidentally took an order from a taxi driver. Autumn 2016 in Perm.

One person took a portrait photo. He looked at him and said to the photographer:

A great photo! I want him on my grave!

The photographer replied slightly confused:

and mmh. Such a compliment for my work has never been said to me.

The case was almost 30 years ago. I was about six years old, we rested with our parents in Theodosius, rented a house on the outskirts. One late evening, walking around the city centre, they stumbled upon a cinema, or more precisely, the House of Culture, in which films were shown. There were no posters, displays, etc., so my mom asked at the box office 5 times, is it possible for a evening session with the child? The good aunt of the ticketmaker replied – Yes, yes, we can go with children, we show normal movies.



We sit and wait, the room is filled. At some point, a TV was taken to the stage and connected to it. After that, the ticketing aunt put a cassette and left, turning off the lights.



I don't remember what it was for the movie, what it was called, but the first few minutes went well, and then the porn began. Not erotic, but such a particular posture with two men and a aunt who had huge breasts and well very thick vegetation between the legs (it was fashionable in the 90s apparently). They rotated her birthplace along and across, all of this, of course, was accompanied by stones and replicas of "fak mi", "oh e, bi, kamon" and the like.



The parents were sitting in a stupor, there was a grave silence in the hall, maybe all of them, or maybe the opposite, were intrigued by the plot. My mother first noticed, took my hand and said that we would go for a soda.



In the hall, we found no one, even the ticketmaker disappeared. But my mom probably liked the movie very much, and she dreamed of watching it, so we started looking for someone. And in the cellar at the very exit of the DC found a guard - an old grandfather. My mom asked him to sit with me until the end of the movie. I remember that my grandfather and I were playing bats, eating roses from the bush in the yard, drinking soda from the machine, reading a newspaper, and I asked everyone – how is it to live next to the sea?



Then the movie ended and the parents rushed home. I was allowed to sleep on the veranda that day as a bonus (the veranda is, of course, loudly said, rather a large doorway with a couch). I remember, I asked about this from the first day of rest, but I always received a rejection, and then they themselves grabbed me on this veranda.

I sit here for days, I don’t touch anyone, I watch YouTube on TV, I work in the background. And then the telecast tells me: Honor3 wants to connect with you. to permit?



Oh, I think the news! I have honors at home and have never driven. Press the rejection.

After 10 seconds, the request is repeated. Rejected again. and repeat again. And once seven.

I am already tired. I don’t allow this honor to see normal youtuber, I’m angry already.



Okay, let’s get connected. Let’s see who you are there, the chimkin’s hacker of television. I approve. And then my telephone becomes a screen translator of someone else’s smartphone. and there!



No, unfortunately, no strawberries and nothing like that (I was even upset). Only photos of children, repairs and toilets. Apparently the man is doing repairs. And a happy father. He is in panic now. Because sitting at home on his couch, I can see him panically laying pictures somewhere in someone else’s apartment. They are not shown on the telecast. It reaches the peak of a panic attack and turns off.



Thank God, I can finally relax.

But not. He again suddenly penetrates into my TV (no request, I allowed it). He started showing me his daughter again. Then my toilet. Thank you for not being in the toilet. Then he gets tired of looking at the pictures (and me, of course, too). And he starts just feverishly running all the apps on the phone. So I got a portrait of a user: a man older than 35, his name is Paul, he is driving on the damage and so on.



I write to the chat at home, say, some Paul, stop raping my TV. But on the screen, actually, of the TV, I see that he does not receive this message, which means he is not in the chat at home. I was upset because I was tired of staring at his screen, and I never found a way to turn it off. But Paul was tired too and he joined himself. I turned off the unconditional authorization for honor and set up YouTube again. But the stubborn neighbor continued to break into my content.



In the end, I became psychotic, went to the settings and renamed the TV device to "Pasha, this is not your telephone! “”



And then I imagined, there is a guy sitting with a new telephone (like my), trying to connect to it, but nothing works. And then a tired telephone writes to him, “Pasha, I’m not yours.”

I would probably sit.

I go through honey. Committee at the Institute. I passed almost all the doctors, I will go to the last and main to put the last stamps. The doctor is a young woman of her age, reading the results of the tests in my card and not raising her eyes: "Oh, here are you, I was waiting for you!"



My heart went to the heels, a bunch of thoughts went through my head - what is there: diabetes, leukemia or, worse, syphilis? When is? From whom? I used condoms. What about the unfortunate 1%?

Place flowers on my closet while I decorate. Very high lately.

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to go to a bar with friends for a weekend. They sat down, ate, listened to music and went out to smoke. And we have to say that the jackets we handed over to the closet, which is in the tambour, where the guards are standing.

Well, in fact, while I stood in the line, comes out of the bar madam in a state of moderate alcoholic intoxication. He walks toward me, bends to my ear and says:



- Young man, there, that is, in the toilet blurred



I thought at first that it was a claim to me, like I was blasting the whole gallon with the roots, and I answered something of the class, I am not me and the hut is not mine. However, she needed me to clean it myself or call a cleaner.

Only then did I catch that I was dressed in a simple black shirt and jeans, like all the guards nearby. After my phrase that I am not working here, she, in my opinion, even turned red.



And it would be nothing if, after I told this story to my friends, I didn’t start to be notified about the state of all the sortings in the district, such as: “Friend, I’m calling you from the McDonald’s toilet, here everything is normal, it’s not blurred” or “Base, it’s Third, the point in the Zodiac Center is not removed.”

Clowns are not chosen, they are appointed.

I am standing on a spring night stop, waiting for a road trip.

The place is crowded, the center of the city, a lot of people, routes of all kinds too. People stand unorganized, who where, you do not know where.

Here my route approaches, but it stops, passing from me quite so forward. I chase her, and then from all sides to her and pulled an empty people, pretending to just wander in the streets.

As a result, while I drove to the road, there was already such a crowd of people. And all this crowd with me stands right in front of the car door.

I tried to move a little to the side to free the passage for the outgoing, but stood right in the puziko of the tall and thin uncle who had just arrived. I froze in place.

It was a disposition, a set, as they say now. So here is action.

The door opens and out of it comes a tall, beautiful young man of thirty years. He gives his hand to a charming young man in a leather mini jersey, with thin legs forever long and roughly the same red rose in his hand.

The girl carefully relying on the knight's hand (the spikes opened the curtain over the secret length of her legs), goes out, the knight turns to the car with his back to continue along the route.

And then he leaned his left side on me, confused in the bubble of a fat man standing next to me and trying to free the passage to an elegant and very beautiful couple.

“Yes, you’re here, you’re not here because of you, you’re here because of you. - commented a young man familiar with the rules of good tone, my location on the globe of his life.

With these words he calmly walked around me, for it is clear that I could not hide the entire horizon of such a beautiful man.

“How polite you are,” I told him. And she gave her hand and did not hurt me with a good word.

You got me, you got me, you got me! There was a pretty gentle man who was ready to hit me with his fists.

You are talking to your wife! I said, and quickly jumped into the road from sin away, confusing the words "Virgo" and "Woman" from fear.

So are you married? - I heard a shocked cry in the open door of the bus while another lady with the cats entered.

The door of the router was blocked, and I was able to see in the cabriolet's viewing window how an angry girl dropped a beautiful red rose on the educated face of the secret lover of the Adjutler from all the extent of her charming pen.

I didn’t want to, honestly.

If you are insulted, humiliated, beat the offender with a spade on the mouth!
Well Dad! I am a girl!
You can take a pink.

My son 4 years. We play chess with him. He’s playing pretty hard, but I’m losing. It is psychotic about that. Yesterday, the psychoanalyst said he would not play anymore.

“Let me walk with my left hand?” I was pleased. – I am pleased. I agreed. The naive fool.

He began to get serious. It is still in the clothes, but will soon be delivered a chair.

Last night was difficult for one forum. Where the supporters of the assignment to the female professions of various feminists sit tirelessly.
One of them said, as a veterinarian, I will never be. I love animals like my mother. I’m going to be a veterinarian. Or the zoology. Only so.
I became curious. I ask, what is the difference?
In many ways, he answers, but if you don’t understand the idea of complete equality, then you’re either a sexist with a prejudiced mindset, or you’re just stupid like a puppy.
Then I write to her, express yourself correctly.
I don’t understand, he responds.
Well, since you are for total equality, why offend someone in this way? It would be fair to give all living beings gender-appropriate names.
Let it be a corner. Cucumber and Cucumber too. And also touch, bed, turtles and turtles. Drunk again. Ullit, white, laurel, butterfly, pandas, zebras and panther.
And again, I apologize, the flies, the frogs and the antilopagus.
Here, the future zoologist for some reason, switching to a language more suitable for public services workers than representatives of her noble profession. Moreover, insulting, she called me exclusively feminists - a pascua, a creature and a fall.
On the paddle, I was already offended and, disconnected, went to cry in the pillow.

by robertyumen

Putin looks at Misha Galustyan with suspicion.

I am an orphan. My mother died when I was nine, my father when I was twelve. My whole childhood was offended to tears when my friends told me they were going to parks with my parents, spending time together, and I was sitting at home in the meantime under the care of an indifferent grandmother who said I wasn’t at home and she just needed help. I am 23 and got married. After the wedding they went to the husband's parents, and from the threshold she heard the joyful cry of the mother-in-law: "Misha, the daughter has come!" And hugged strongly. I cried, I was home.

It seems that freedom of speech in Russian is an opportunity to discuss, criticize and ironicly blaspheme the presidential elections in neighbouring states on a daily basis.

© Dmitry Sviridov

“My friends, I want to ask you this question. There is a family with minors living on the same street. There is no gas or light in the house. The children walk hungry, cold, and watch their parents not work and drink awkwardly. Where to seek help? The guardianship agency? Children are very sorry... Anonymous.”

I read this post and remembered my childhood. We also had such a family on the street, the mother was alcoholic, the father was lost somewhere, and the boy - Olegka, suffered because of this. On a physical and moral level. He was three years younger than I was, intelligent, energetic, played great chess, often with me winning, which brought me into a marked nervous state. He was raised by the entire neighborhood, each of the neighbors considered his duty to invite him home, to feed him, to sew if something broke, and sometimes to buy something new. And if his mother had a company for the evening, then someone must have gone and taken Olegka to sleep with him. No one has ever even thought about determining him somewhere in childhood, although I cannot say this 100%, I was still a boy.
In 1981, a storm washed away part of our village, many people died. A three-metre water shaft, intertwined with trees and stones, struck the village at night, when everyone was asleep, and our side of the street was severely affected. Of the fifteen houses on the spot, only two remained, the rest simply broke, broke and washed. Oleg died that year. I was not a witness to the element, was in the departure, but when I returned from the conversations, I realized that Oleg was trying to save his neighbors to the last, and as the survivors told him in several cases it succeeded, until he himself crushed the barrel. He was fifteen at the time and I think he considered everyone his family. What his fate would be in the childhood home, I do not want to guess.

What is the point of developing the Russian economy when it is possible to introduce criminal punishment for denying its greatness?

Here's what happens when your girlfriend leaves for a week: I found a delightful huge glass I've never seen; and I drank from it all week. When Carrie came home, I asked why we never used it; she replied, “It’s a flower vase.”