I am 48 years old, they say, old age suits me.

And I suddenly remembered – I was placed in the hospital when I was only 6 years old, I did not go to school at the time...

August month, summer... on Saturday my mom came to visit me.... and here we are just walking on the pine pine... around quietly... no one... and I am so happy - so happy - that I just go with my mom!!! to

This is the happiness that...

(Now here - my mother has not been six years old - and in those times, when I was only six years old, - I was ashamed of my mother with the boys - then the most offensive nickname was - "Mommy's son" - DOBLE BLA!!!@ by

How stupid we were when we were children, we didn’t like our own happiness!

We will not embrace my mother, we will not kiss her. The boys will not understand!

Since childhood, society has been so disturbing.

and further...

Xxx: The guy took the towel out of the box.

I: Oh, the last as I am in your life.

He: silently gets two others, who were lying on the bottom of the box.



She: Oh you are a cowboy. Who are these prostitutes?

Xxx: Bolshinctsvom golookov belocnežkya and ceмь gnoomov ppogolookvali za cexc, ppy oднom golookie ppotiv.

I’ve noticed where you need to go, at this moment you’re usually not needed by anyone. You don’t need anybody. This is just where you need a puddle.

has long been. and Spain. The Command. I decided to have dinner with a colleague. We sit in a bar on the shore. They ate, and then a colleague remembers that he learned how to "girl" in Spanish. I went to the bartender and said:

Friends, help us, we need muchachos.

Mmm, are you sure of that?

Of course...

The bartender started calling someone’s number.

And then, of course, we learned that muchachos are boys and muchachas are girls. Only one letter can change lives.

A man sent his wife with children to the village. Drinking beer and breakfast. Just sat down, relaxed, ringing at the door. At the doorstep is a beautiful young woman.

I am your new neighbor, just moved. Here, I wanted to celebrate, bump and fuck. Are you free tonight?

by Daaa!

Do you sit with the child?

It is good to rest before work. Have a good rest after work. But the sweetest rest is to rest instead of work.

A blonde goes into a building store, long confused looking at the stands with nails and tails.
The consultant decided to come to help:
Girl, do you have something to say?
The Blonde:
Please tell me, do you have a dough?
The seller walked and found:
- Yes, there are two (shows on colleagues), I can bring three from the neighboring department. Will you all watch?
The Blonde:
Oh no, I’m sorry, Dybala!

Soviet Workers' Delegation in America.
Whose factory is this?
and Ford.
Whose cars are these?
of workers.

American Workers' Delegation to the USSR.
Whose is this factory?
It belongs to the workers.
Whose car is it worth?
Director of the factory.

I sat in the kitchen, cooking. The daughter approaches and says:

“Mommy, when I’m going to work, I’ll buy you food and pay for the service.

I was blinded.

She is 29 years old.

To die for the Motherland and to die for the Fatherland, as they say in Odessa, are two big differences.

Nina walked through her country on the third day..When she looked at, translated, touched endless little things dear to the heart - old read books, photographs in homemade frames, clothes in the closet, simple dishes in the servette.
“Yes,” Nina understood, “son is right, she has no reason to stay here. It barked something. have to sell. Jurkish money is needed in this Germany.
She has not seen her son for seven years. As I left then with my wife... only calls when something is needed. Now the money was needed. It requires. And Nina has only one in Khrushchev in Izmajlovo, and this...
Previously, they lived as a large family in a spacious three-bedroom apartment in Sokolniki. Ninina’s parents were still alive, a beloved husband was alive. When Jurka grew up and married, and Nina was widowed, the son insisted on the exchange of an apartment. Nina humbly moved to a single house in a strange area. Then Jurk and his wife moved to Germany and sold their home.
Nina was alone. 6 months a year she spent in the country, where she spent her childhood, where a small apple tree and straw garden bloomed in the spring, smelled sirene and jasmine.
Selling the house was the end of Nina's life. But a son is a son. There was no exit. Nina accepted it.
To buy this piece of land with a tiny old house instantly agreed neighbor Nina Kolka. The forty-year-old good neighbor, Jyrki's mate, with whom his son grew up here, was playing, riding a bicycle.
formed the documents. Nina immediately transferred the money to her son. She cleaned the house and the plot and clicked through the fence of Kolku to give the keys.
“Aunt Nin,” asked Kolka, “That’s so! I signed the paper. Live a hundred years, it is yours. You cannot sell it anymore. For me, this money does not play a special role, and Yurek will have enough of you to do it! They are insatiable with their wife.

by Olga Malceva

There have been so many incredible and unthinkable wilds this year that I’t be surprised if I stopped crawling.

The richer the female inner world, the more sophisticated the hysterics.

Waiting for the MFC, cnyala paltto. Handcuffed at the coft by the elbow, seen the tattoo of Pushkin.
In the midst of the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes, the lion's eyes.
Issue of Issue:
The guy of you? Going to Tata.
I would eat, I say. I love the ego.
How are they called?
and cash.
What is it, broccoli?
and dying. They killed.
A long time?
of old.
Is the man Chechnya?
My husband is.
And what? Reacted to?
Beethoven at least.
Are you something?
I molts.
Wow, a very nice little. You will be killed, you will be killed, you will be killed.
Yes, and the ctixie can write.
A pizzard?
of offices.
That’s all that!
And then he said, “Happy.”
Close to c AC at this moment was almost a chance. I love this tattoo, I love it. She squeezes the mesdick in the cough of realnocti.

Only the cableman will ask the wife if it is possible to sit with friends. A real man knows that he cannot.

Girls, don’t envy seaweed, they can’t stretch their legs.

Funny little, but still.
An employee, living about 1.5 hours drive from the capital (in a car), on Friday took home important docks - to subdue, time pushed. On Sunday, he called his boss with the news that he had pulled out his leg, broken his ligaments and would lie for a few days.
The boss grabs his head - the originals are needed, the scan does not roll, and there is nothing to scan the poor. On Monday morning, a colleague is charged with a car: go to the village and bring a docks. At the same time, our sick man has his favorite fists plus the sympathy of the department (it needs to be him, yes).
In the words of our courier:
"Ele found this wreckage village. The navigator led to some village, eat-eat - hail, hail! Asked the Aborigines, it turns out that the bridge has long collapsed, now you have to go back on the highway, drive another two kilometers, turn where the gun is on the stand and go on the other side. The Yandex cards! I went where they said, oh, this is the center of the world. I ask the street Spalopropitočná, there are no signs anywhere, they said how to get there, they say - and which house? The third, I say. Aaaah, it’s not you with Propivkovna, but out of that courtyard of the left of the Khrushchev you have to go. Okay, I walked out of the yard and stumbled into his house. My dear mother, I’m kidding. A natural two-storey bar. In any case, I went in from the side of the street and... there is no street in general. There is a roof of grass with holes, where you will leave the wheel. Behind this type of street is a promzone that smells of creosot. It smells like iron. There is really a spat factory. He still smokes, his mother. At the end - a bunker with garbage and everything around is overwhelmed. And the smell, of course.
Okay, I went back to the yard, I hear shit from somewhere. Imagine a bucket. And at the entrance of the grandmother in trainers and coffins on the bench seeds click. As in childhood gold got, only in our courtyard apples smelled and there were no such scary hoops.
Hi to you. I say.
And to me in response:
Paint it up! Do I need? I didn’t let Mishka go, Ninka strictly told me not to bite.
I am in the fourth, to Dmitry Sergeevich. I am from his work.
This type of container turns and rolls, like a sirene, into the right window:
by Dimkaaa!
He went out on the window and said:
Baby, it’s about me.
Aaaah, then come in.
I am at the door - there is no homephone, so it opens. Although with such a border there is a homeopath. Wild somehow. To get into the entrance and just a wooden door on the spring...brr.
At the entrance... tears flowed. Fuck - I think - innovation is somehow promoting... you would have repaired the channel first, fucking. And even better people have moved out of this rot. A wooden house! The staircase to the second wooden, dark, boards under your feet play. In the corridor on the walls of the pelvis hang, a whole room is great. The Dark!
Dmitry has opened the door, oh, the beam of light in the dark kingdom.
Well I went in, and this smell of shit just chases me, although in the apartment it's lighter. The threshold at the entrance is unbiased. Sanctuary forty. The door to the floor.
I gave him wishes, wishes, wishes. I take the file and ask:
– Smoke, what is your DEZ or who can’t repair your channel? What Affairs? It is impossible to live.
The channel is working. We just have a burial hole in the basement. I have a window under the window, there the barrel enters and pumps out once every two weeks. It was cold, it wasn’t so cool. Everyone will have a salary, let’s get off and call the barrel.
What? → Are you paying yourself?! to
Well who? The money ended in the nineties. Under Soviet rule, it was exported for free, and now that is the case.
How can we live here?! to
As I lived forty years, so I live. The floors here Daddy started to strengthen, I still laid the floor and hydroisole made. You see, I do not pull.
The fuck doesn’t pull!
Or rotting the floors. The smoke continues. The neighbor died, fell through the floor and drowned. She was a good aunt.
Do you know where my aunt drowned? Fuck her mother!
I was driving from there, I couldn’t get in. Shame on the Spanish people! We are rubbed in our ears about innovation, about digitalization, about robots, about... space, fucking! And an hour and a half passed and here you have a barracks over a dirt pit in which people have lived for decades. Fuck those robots! You are going to get people out of the shit!”

Three reasons for rising food prices in Russia:
Reason No. 1: The price of the ruble falls
Reason No. 2: The rate of the ruble is rising
Reason #3: The ruble is stable

The glass gives birth to the vocal.