Lifhack for the government.
Pension reform should be developed by an ordinary employee with a white employee in 25 years, who will be retired in three years.

I went to the dentist at a private clinic today.

After carefully studying everything, the tooth fairy made a verdict: the structure of the teeth is good - you will die with your teeth.

Everyone wants to be happy, but many people want to be happy.

In our micro-district, the new building saw the same picture for a couple of years. Everywhere the trees are untreated, grown with grass, the bushes beaten, there are no flowers... except one house. There weeds are removed, trees are excavated, bushes are cut and flowers grow.
Every year a new drawing. On the question of whose hands is the matter, he received the answer "what kind of choked grandfather, like a former agronom or about that." I saw him, yeah, grandfather, he barely walks, works very slowly, but educatively. And he always worked only on the trees of his house, even more precisely his half of the house. It is about 17 floors, so it is not a weak part of the land.
But last autumn, he did everything he could and surprisingly went to our yard. 16 trees, cut out the grass in autumn, circles around the trees, a small shell or something there exploded and fertilized. I thought about what a good grandfather. And he also worked slowly and for a long time, half a day under the same tree. The fertilizer from the package, apparently purchased at his own expense.
Spring has come, snow has come down...and grandfather has never appeared. He probably died in the winter. There are circles around the trees in the yard. The grass does not grow as if it was done yesterday. Every time I look at him, I remember him.
There is no man, but the fruits of his labor are these, they live their lives.

Today, I finally admitted to my colleagues that they are gay.

In one yard near the entrance hanged a list of residents. The name Akashkin was sharply highlighted in it. Before the first letter were visible traces of many years and painful struggle.

My sister and I took pictures of a room in Peter, near the metro of Jelizarovskaya. In the neighboring room lived a man who loved to drink, once a month he had a stable week of drinking, and then "dry law."

Someone he was calm, not bullish, so his drinks, we were not very stressed, we were stressed by frequent visits, his friends. Here she bleached every day, sober we never saw her, but here in varying degrees of intoxication, every day, from slightly stumbling, to rolling the corpse in the hallway.

Often, her mother came to her mother to take her drunken daughter.

Once upon a time, this lazy woman, sitting in the kitchen, sat on my ears while I was boiling the tea, told me about her difficult life, how she gave birth at 17, how her beautiful daughter died at 15 years of age on her arms, since then she has poured the pain with vodka, so she is easier to cope with the severity of the loss. She sits, says all this to me, and the tears flow, straight crocodile, honestly, I was very sorry for her, I could have tried to calm her, but I did not succeed, in the end I shamefully surrendered to my room, leaving a drunk woman crying in the kitchen.

A couple of days later, the mother of Alkasha, again came for her daughter, they engaged in a dispute, the mother orets:

You have eaten my whole soul, I am ashamed to look people in the eyes, what have you done?

She answers her:

“Mommy, go home, that you’re always following me? ! to I’m grown up, go fuck me!

Then there was a loud knock on the door to the neighboring room, and then they knocked on us. This mother knocked at us to ask if we had validol, or if she was sick. We invited the woman to ourselves, sat on a chair, the sister ran to the kitchen, dive into the pharmacy box. My wife and I talked, she said:

Why do I have such a daughter? And where it came from, her father was a worker, not a drunkard, I only drink a couple of garlics of wine for the celebration, and she, well, breaks with cabbage!

I am :

She says that the pain is flooding, and her daughter is dead in her arms.

Did she tell you why her daughter died?

and no.

At this point, the sister returned, the validola did not appear, but there was a carvalol, we dug a woman carvalol, and then she told us her story.

The daughter brought her in the basement, from whom the baby was squeezed by the mother, and herself drank and walked, not coming home for weeks. When the girl grew up, the alchemist, eating the waters, stumbled on the daughter with the reproach that she is an ungrateful creature, she loves the grandmother, and the mother cheers, the mother who endured and gave birth to her. Forced the girl to go for a walk with her, like a mother and daughter on a walk. It was winter, and the girl laid off. She had meningitis. Long treatment, a bunch of money spent, the grandmother went into debt, and the mother of the girl, both cuddled and cuddled on. The girl died in the hospital. When there was a funeral, the mother of the girl went to the store, and appeared only a few days later, at the time of the funeral she was not there, at the feast days too. She did not go to the hospital with her daughter. As it turned out, when she came to the store, there met her friends Alkasha, they invited her with her, and she went with them. Between her daughter’s funerals and a drunkard with her friends, she chose the second, not bothering everyone.

After telling us all this, the mother of Alksha added:

And after all this, she tells people how unhappy she is, and how she lost her daughter, the daughter she changed for vodka!

This is maternal love.

In the framework of social responsibility, Burger King has assigned a reward to girls who become pregnant from world football stars. Each will receive 3 million rubles and a lifetime stock of vops. The girls who will be able to get the best football genes will put the success of the Russian national team several generations ahead. to forward! We believe in you!



XXX: Deleted now

YYY: Has it already been removed? Where are my whores? Have you showered? What should I do now?

Dream differs from plan by the chaotic design.

How I violated the thief's honor
Again, I would like to tell a story from the practice in which I touched the AUE culture common among teenagers. You may have heard this abbreviation, it means most often arrest-urkagan unity. Adolescents are attracted to culture by some, as they think, code of honour, brotherhood. These kids are missing today. The holy place is not empty. We didn’t have a pioneer, and here came this devil in its place.
In general, it was in 2011. There was a natural wave of juvenile crime. It is like a little thing - here something is stolen from the bag, there the guy will stop and the pockets will be cleaned. Finding the criminals was difficult. Teenagers, and that is all. After all, how the majority of crimes are revealed: ordinary citizens do not commit them, you look primarily in the criminal environment, drag one, another, until you finally find the real scammer. How to search? They went to schools in the Leningrad district, looked at schools and technical schools, talked to the boys, but nowhere and nothing. And suddenly they caught - a large theft was committed from the warehouse of paint products of one of our local network of shops of the type "all for repair". They dropped several boxes of paint in bottles, three or four electrodes, some other devices - for a total of one hundred and seventy thousand rubles. I picked up the video and there were three guys on it. Someone identified the shirt by the son of the deputy chief of the warehouse. He was a 14-year-old boy, a student. We called the police with the parents, we questioned, and he is silent like a guerrilla in the Gestapo. Nevertheless, they finally established his friends-sharing and one of the three broke - said, we are all - for the culture of AUE. It turned out that the boys organized like a gang - a fellow they had there, in which they carried pocket money, swore to each other that they were brothers forever, and so on. There were a total of 25 students from their high school classes. The case was entrusted to me, because I once headed the children's room of the police for some time and it was thought that I had more or less found a common language with the teenagers. I took the job. I took personal affairs, good magazines. I read and am surprised. What a fuck! All these terrible criminals who robbed on the street, from good families. One mother is a geography teacher, the other father is an engineer, a serious man, and the mother is a factory accountant. Everyone learns well, not duplicates. Somehow this story broke my pattern. I burned up, I sat down every night, thinking how it happened that decent guys from normal families suddenly went on this slippery path. After all, the teenager himself does not know in what vulnerable position he is. Especially dangerous theft world for the boys from well-off families, who have not had time to bread trouble. He thinks that just as his parents love him and forgive him, everyone will forgive him. Well, okay, that time I ran for the victim, convinced to take a claim. And another time there will not be such conspicuous people, and the boy will fly first to the young, and from there a white swan to the adult zone. And the fate went under way. Instead of the university - basement seats, give God not with a needle, instead of a normal, honest life - a thief's raspberries, instead of a family - an undercover drunkard and syphilis at the age of 18... And here I sit somehow, I take things over, and one of the names, Glotkovo, as I now remember, seemed familiar to me. From where, I think, I remember... I call the city and friend, Tolik Litvinenko, reports that there is such a thief-recidivist, who has been sitting for a total of 12 years, now on freedom under the UDO. I call the Criminal Office where he should be registered. We picked up infu and bingo! He has a brother who is studying at school. It was here that I understood where all the ugly infection on children came from. I came to the cause of this comrade - hatred-hatred - attempts to rape, theft, threats, robbery, episodes of one sitting on the other and the third chasing. I decided to check the version, went to schoolchildren in this way - allegedly, to collect the supplementary evidence. I took a girl from the finishing area, Masha, a cute one, I think, maybe my childhood scares the kids, and with the girl they will relax somehow. To the first came a schoolgirl, Vanya was called. Lovely such a boy, the whole room, I remember, the shipwrecks are fitted with various homemade, instead of a lustre, even a sea shuttle. Probably a sea guy. His father, by the way, was a sailor. How he pulled him into the penalty - I will not mind. He approached the matter carefully - he started with Jules Verne and Sabbatini, and was interesting to talk to him, but as Glotkovsky said, he was like water in his mouth. Again, this partisan tactic turns its eyes away. Clearly I got to the point, and I can’t talk at all. I went to the other, the third, and the same.
Then I walked a horse. I went to school and agreed to a deal. The children of three senior classes were removed from the classes and gathered in the spacious office of OBŽ. I chose it intentionally – they had a projector there. I went to the classroom with a laptop and watched the kids. The class is spacious, and the schoolchildren - an eighty-year-old was probably, and are tight - three people are sitting on the bench, the walls are supported, someone in the passages even stands. And only on the second party from me is free - two boys are sitting, and around them, like around the flu in a trolleybus at the peak hour - emptiness. One learned immediately - Sanya Glotkovo, apparently, their brigadier and the main authority. She sits, smiles curved - not to give or take - Lenka Panteleev, only the cigarettes in her teeth and the cap is missing.
I greeted, told in general about the AUE culture, how bad it is, what happens if a person follows theft principles in ordinary life, and so on. They look, of course, arrogantly - the mint is bad and't have caught them. Here I connect the note to their projector and get the case of this Glotkov from the portfolio. I started reading the episodes, and I see how everyone got stressed. What was there? He beat a woman, took a bag, and beat an 82-year-old man. Walked by apartments, exchanged old women money for tickets of the "comfortable bank" (seek on the Internet, the affair was known in those years). The girl struck, in the entrance, threatening with a knife, insulted. At first, the people despised to turn away. It feels like the criminal freezing to them so well crossed the road. Particularly the newly appeared Lenka Panteleev sneaks, and launches jokes. Moreover, as he releases - he sits on the first party, not turning, speaks half-voiced, but you can see that every word is caught. And suddenly the first flew: he told me about how Glotkov's mobile phones were pulled out of the pockets of citizens, and one girl said quite loudly: and my phone was also stolen. I went to her: tell me how it was. She told me uncertainly - so and so, went to swim with a friend, left the phone on the beach, and there were guys sitting next to me, Moldavians, and raped me.
My mother may have cheated, I ask.
It was crazy, said the girl. I immediately looked at the younger boy. The first ever bad look. He tried to get rid of the giraffe.
He didn’t lose, he said, but about LA!
He laughed, but no one was so sure anymore. I followed the rest of the episodes - small and large thefts, beating, attempted rape. Every time I ask you, has this happened to you? At first more uncertain, then more often, more often, began to remember. In whom from the dressing room at the stadium the jacket was pulled off, in whom the father's clock was removed in the basement, in whom the car was stolen... Of course, the rape of the girl was not told, but here I noticed that the one or the other stumbled, apparently, remembering something. Glatkovy is trying to get rid of everything, but the atmosphere around him is clearly thickening. At some point, when he was telling exactly how the old lady of his beloved brother-in-law robbed the tickets of the bank to the naive retirees, he exclaimed arrogantly, "Lohhi, Cho." And suddenly from the back party, a young, but rather confident Basque: "Yes, you don't dare." And then the noise, the screams, the screams. The newly-appointed Lenka Panteleev has already swallowed his head in his shoulders, I see, the guy next to him, apparently his counselor, is quite uncomfortable - rushes on his chair, there is nowhere to go.
Are you uncomfortable? I address him. Move if you are uncomfortable.
As the cancer turned red, he swallowed his hand, but nevertheless he did not leave.
Well, then there was the culmination for which I brought the laptop. At the time, the camera was beaten by an 82-year-old man, near the universe "Crossover". The episode in the case remained, I included the children. The scene is awful, of course - a huge dild pushes the miserable into his chest, and he holds his hillful bracelets for his ass. The child rolls the pensioner on the ground and - with his feet, feet, on his face, in his stomach. He took it away, looked into the avoska, saw that there was nothing valuable and drowned it with his feet.
I then read the list of stolen and destroyed: a wallet with 2500 rubles, two bags of kefir, a dozen eggs, pasta. I comment: kefir is this, the testicles are the cheapest, the old man wanted to delight himself with the sale. And the old man was unusual - he was never a son of the regiment. He remained orphan at the beginning of the war, went to the army and came to Berlin with the regiment. It turned out, by the way, there were many such kids at the time, we even had a whole city association of regiment sons.
Katie, have you read it? That was grandfather.
Well, this is a storm, and I say at the peak: do you think this shit, the other heroes? 90% of fraudsters choose the weak victims. Well, I scratched that the typical story is when just a thunder of a weak girl takes a bag, etc., I don't remember the details.
I will not boast and say that I directed everyone to the true path then - for this one conversation is not enough, and the times we have now are such that there are no moral authorities, no one to equal. Here you will expose a thief to a teenager, and you need to offer another idol, otherwise how? Who is this new cousin? Only heroes of the past, and now there are no such wonderful people in the ear at least. But the Aue-Tusovka in that school really broke up and then did not have time to gather. Since then, there has been no child robbery.
Here, the younger only Glotovo disappeared, unfortunately, went, as an adult, on his brother's path, and fell down - he stood somewhere on the road while the shareholders of the merchant were killing, and went with everyone, the tenth, it seems, got...

The Russians! Pensioners, teachers and doctors!
The boy Igor Sechin from Moscow needs your help.
Igor has a serious illness - he has a crack of harry. An urgent operation is needed to sew harry.
Doctors in Israel take it for it, but they need money. Let’s get rid of them, let’s help Igor!

I once thought about health.

Why do we have so many vegetables in the refrigerator?

I thought we should eat healthier food. And vitamins and for the figure are more useful. I’ll make a vegetable tomorrow.

and yes? Why are there two sausages?

This is for sandwiches.

Oh yeah...

How are you going to eat vegetables?

People are called people who live at their expense.

Read in the journal of the Israeli Society of Disabled Soldiers.
--------
War of the Judgment Day. Israeli hospitals are overrun by wounded. Those who are accepted by the flow, do everything they can to save lives and forget, as there is a flow of heavy wounded.
In one hospital in neighboring chambers, two soldiers find themselves on neighboring beds across the wall. Squeezed from feet to head. Both are heavily injured. They only have hands.
Both shout of pain and wake each other through the wall. The wall is thin and no insulation.
At the same time, the phases of sleep in them do not coincide, and when one screams, the other knocks on the wall so that it stops... Slowly the pain goes away, but they are already accustomed to knocking on the wall and continue to knock, inventing the code in the course of the matter. Type “How is it?” And “Is it okay?“”
Then they decide to meet. Crying through the wall. The rest of the wounded in the chambers are in such a state that they do not notice.
It turns out to be a soldier and a soldier. The soldier was seriously wounded on the battlefield, and the soldier was in a serious accident.
It quickly turns out that without a friend they cannot, and interfere with the sick with their conversations.
And here in the hospital comes Raphael - the same member of whose party... seeing these patients, he orders to put them a phone...
They quickly explain to the doctors that they want to see each other. It is “not done!”
At night, the nurses take their beds to the corridor, where the soldier, according to the logic of the story, begins the meeting with the words "Are you willing to marry me?And of course, “Yes!”
In six months, both are released from the hospital. After removing the plaster, it turned out that the soldier's legs were in such a state that he could never walk.
A difficult family life begins.
They are having a child. Both work to maintain a family, on a gas station, where you do not have to go far.
And then the father decides to learn to walk with his son. He falls out of the wheelchair and slips with the child, then becomes on four. Copying his movements. And falling a little more often than the child... When the child went, he went with the child. The shock was everybody.
And when the child ran, he ran too...Al slowly...
When the child sat on a bicycle, he bought a bicycle.
A couple of years later, they were called to change the wheelchair for a new model, and were surprised that the wheelchair was no longer needed.
Doctors have written an article about the until now unknown method of rehabilitation.
They are now retired. Four children, ten grandchildren. He still walks alone. In fact, at a small distance...

Men want sex every day.
Until you meet a woman who wants sex every day.

Men want sex every day.

Until you meet a woman who wants sex every day.

I spoke with one of the leaders yesterday. The manager was a little drunk and amused.

Do you have my phone number? He asked me.

and no. I answered.

It is great! If there are any problems call me. I will decide! He said goodbye to me.

The white salary? To pay other people’s pensions all your life and die before you get your own?

You are a stranger on the whole head.

Dr. Masulis is a surgeon. Old and experienced. Very strict and pedantic. He never smiles. The teacher is good, speaks clearly, explains without excessive difficulties, does not get stuck in the details, to observe his lectures is a pleasure.

But we, the twenty-five-year-old inyaza, have long been tired of Dr. Masulis, of his lectures on surgery, and in general of four years of military department. According to the idea, foreign students are a direct path to military translators. And who invented it to cook out of us “the nurse GO?” And who can prepare when so many subjects, so little time and not even textbooks? We were already tortured with anatomy, we were drowned with pharmacology, we were drawn out with structural preparation, we were knocked out with civil defense... so, and now the main subject is "hospital surgery". It is understandable – what should such a nonsense nurse be able to do? Make a bandage. Assist a surgeon in very primitive operations. At least Dr. Masulis thinks so. He chases us in the tail and in the tail.

I go to Dr. Masulis in favourites. For some reason, I do not faint either in the operating room, where it is appropriate to stand several operations (silently, quietly, in the corner, but to stand), or in the bandage. I am not afraid of blood. My classmates envy me - many are badly done from one look at surgical instruments. I probably have a iron stomach. They have a better imagination. For some reason, the tallest and largest fall into fainting, and within me it is only about one-and-a-half meters, and the smallest classmate I can hardly get to the shoulder. Lithuanians are grown people.

(I still have one phobia – I can’t learn to inject. Well, I cannot smash a living man with a needle! I can not. But we are many, we manage to hide behind the backs of the more brave, and the account I safely pass on a mannequin with a rubber plate.)

I still remember the terms and names well. Dr. Masulis takes this for an interest in the subject, and I just love the words – philologist! And the words here are beautiful: cornhang, troakar, spatel... And I also like that in the names of the instruments are preserved the names of the inventors - such a historical succession, belonging to the old order: Liu-er, Ko-her, Bill-rot, Hall-Sted, Lan-gen-back... "Langenbeck" me confuses - "long clove".

Well, and of course, it affects the domestic Jewish education: they teach you - learn, the hell would take you! Learn to! There is no excess knowledge!

It, of course, is not superfluous, but we have two months to study, we have the protection of the diploma and the state exams on our nose, we have no time to rest. And I have another trouble: the account of Marxism-Leninism is too short. It needs to be “disassembled”. That is, just a written common notebook - no one will read it. Without this, they will not be allowed to take the exam. I find a way out – I take the “Christomatia of the Classics of Marxism-Leninism” from the library and rewrite everything in a row until the required volume is obtained.

The idea is good, but this should not be done at the lectures of Dr. Masulis. Because surgeons are very observing people, and to be distracted from his subject, Dr. Masulis will not tolerate this. I feel like a first-class girl with a book on her knees. The doctor is just angry. Do you know what Lithuanian rage looks like? It does not look. But somehow everything is understandable.
I have not yet estimated the extent of the disaster. Dr. Masulis stops over me and says very slowly, almost as he says, "The last practice in the hospital doesn't count on you. You will work again.”

This is already a catastrophe. Twenty-five hours later, I would have found them. Unwritten graduate work. The state exams! A diploma can only be obtained together with a military ticket. So I will have to work at night.
The classmates laugh - it is necessary to succeed in suffering for Marxism-Leninism! I bite slightly. They are right. Really a special luck.

In the evening after the longest day of school, I drag to the hospital and report. I am not sent to surgery (where, indeed, no sugar at night - the wounds hurt at night), but to the pulmonary department. There is a sick nurse, and any pair of hands will be pleased. Even with hands like mine.

is normal. 60 people sick. Two or three nurses. What should I do? Of course the injections. In enormous quantity. But I do not know! “You will learn.”

A very long evening begins. In fact, I am not doing so badly. Everything as taught. And I open the sterilizer correctly - a lid to myself so that the steam does not burn, and I collect the syringes, observing sterility... and, in short, pull the time as I can. But that moment still comes. Sister Wanda gathers everything I need for me in an enamelled bench, unfolds me behind my shoulders and sends me to the chamber with instructions to whom. My hands are trembling, everything is trembling in the table. I encourage myself by the fact that the sick are even worse - then I get ashamed...

And there is amazing luck. The first patient I need to inject is a retired former nurse. She assesses the situation instantly - and begins to encourage me in half a voice: "Look, okay, you do everything right, so, the air released, hold the syringe at such an angle, now smoothly... smart, you see, and I don't even hurt at all." (It doesn’t hurt her. There is no living place in it, and there is such a curvy failure...) The whole chamber is watching us with curiosity, and suddenly the other women are also turned on: "...collet, sister, do not be afraid, you have a light hand..." "...not the gods are burning the pots..." "...you are smart, daughter, you are a student, heaven..." Everyone, like one, convinces me that they are not hurt at all. I understand that they just reassure me, I want to cry, but after the fifth injection, things are going more fun. Crying in public is completely excluded. (I will cry later when the change is over, from the fear experienced, from the tension - and from the relief.)

The practice takes place at four nights. I learned to inject. Phobia is defeated. I bring to Dr. Masulis a signed paper from the hospital. Now there is an exam. The doctor doesn’t look at the paper. He quietly takes my check-in and - the machine! Give me a fifth on my subject. and unexpectedly. And honestly, unheard of it! But very Lithuanian: punished - forgiven - everything is forgotten.

I have two memories of this story. A sick woman is a whole house. - who want to encourage a timid unskilled girl. And how beautiful and slowly the sun rises when you go home from the night shift, and all the fears are behind.

Children play in the sandbox. One says:
Let’s play the president.
And how?
I’ll take your toys and you’ll thank me.