My Blog: jokes jokes funny stories
There was once a very colorful teacher at the physics and technology department - Gosha B. About him, students composed many legends based on real stories. Here is one of them. Rent student Gaucher. An hour rents, two rents. Gosh has it with might and main (he loved this thing ;-), the student is already blowing steam from his ass and from his ears. In general, he fights for C grade for quite some time. Finally, Gosha decided to put an end to this matter: - On, he says, you will solve the problem - let go of the C grade, you will not solve it - I went for a retake. And he leaves somewhere. Returns in half an hour. Here it should be noted that Gosha's memory was not very good. Yes, and a lot of students, just do not remember. - Well, how? Gosha asks. Well, the student tells him: - Okay, I didn’t solve your problem. Put me four. So the happy student with the quad and left!
After all, there are newspaper ads ... here are some that I especially like: B. / y. Burton Air snowboard, bindings, boots. Please circle this ad to stand out from the crowd. Selling a boat. The text is the same as in the previous issue. Hello! I am a small BMW from Pereberezka. Take me out of here! Or exchange for a diesel car. I will buy a Salora SV 6900 VCR with remote control, or just D.W., my dog thinks it is very tasty. Fiat Rhythmo-88 is on sale, a terrible, disgusting, nightmare of all senior citizens! To get rid of this machine, a headache would pass. Help the person - bring a couple of handkerchiefs, weep together. Inspection passed, etc. etc. ... Price: 3000 or change to 85000 tablets of aspirin. Male chinchilla for sale, 8 months, urgently; the dog believes that this is her snack, I agree to the exchange, offer anything! I sell the JVC tape recorder, half-disassembled, for parts, the whole speakers, the radio generally works, but I can’t hear the sound, the cassette worked until the tape recorder was dismantled.
There was a professor at the MGIMO-Party historian, an old Stalinist, who was probably forced to adhere to the party's current view of its history. Once at a lecture, talking about the Stalinist "excesses" and blaming everything, of course, on Beria, the Stalinist head of the state security organs, he literally issued the following: - Beria wanted to put his organs over the party and the government.
What to do with port?
Was at the birthday party of one girl. Despite being 24, he looks like a pioneer: two ponytails, a thin voice, blue-blue eyes, etc. Before the final dish (biscuit cake, mmmmm ... I was called into the kitchen. Because of the gigantic cookbook, the aforementioned pigtails stick out and you can purr: - So, lemon peel, hmm, powder, egg, mr, PORTVAINE. Port ?! Listen, come down, if I don’t fall into it, huh? .. - Yes! ”“ Who can resist the blue-blue look ?! I put my jacket on, go to the supermarket, buy a bottle, and deliver it to the kitchen with fanfare. !!! The cake is almost ready. - Ta-ak, stir two tablespoons of port wine with ... - and suddenly, lowering the Talmud: - Listen !!! But it’s not written where to put the rest of the port !!! Do you think we have dealt with this problem? ..
He was on a business trip to Barnaul. I liked one store. There are watches (for children) in the form of a hare. The dial on the belly, the hare shakes his head. And where is the counterweight? How where - between the legs: the carrot hangs to the beat! P. S. There were also other animals, each with something of their own between their legs dangling.
Jokes from a notary
The work of a notary assistant has its own funs. The most fun ones are applications with permission to travel a child abroad. Our parents are our pride ... 1. A young couple comes to fill out a statement. I ask: who is the child, son or daughter? At the same time, happy spouses say, father: - Son. Mother: - Daughter A silent scene, the husband slowly turns to his wife, looks at her for a long time, then very surprised: - So you also have a daughter ?! 2. Again, a statement. There is a man. I ask: - What is the year of birth of the child. A man scratches a turnip: - It seems to be 1995. I am sitting and typing. Enters: - Not, perhaps, 1994. Leaves, then reappears: - Wait, can I call my wife? - You are welcome. He calls, he pushes for a long time to the mother what kind of child he actually means, then they decide for another three minutes, what his age is. We decided. In short, leaving, a man plaintively asks: - And if it is still wrong, can it be fixed? 3. The same statement. A woman comes, gives a birth certificate. I print, give her the finished text for verification. Comes: - You printed here the name of the child Almenia, and her name is Elmina. I wonder how everything should be in order, I look at the evidence, it says in Russian: - Almenia. Showing her. She silently looks at him, then at the statement, then again ... After a minute, she finally says: “Yele, and we called her Elmina from childhood.” 4. The most common client error: - Hello, I want to write a power of attorney for a child. - You know, this is called a statement - No, [good uncle] told me that I should entrust the child! - No, this form is called a statement! - No, I need a power of attorney. - [tired, gloomy], well, and to whom do you trust him? - [quite and joyfully] Vasya Pupkin - [maliciously] and do you have a power of attorney with the right to sell or just for use? [silent scene] The contract is a funny thing in its own way, but there are few such curiosities. 5. A grandfather of about five hundred comes, says: - I want to assure the contract! He gives me a copybook leaflet that says something like the following: "I want to flare my apartment where I now live with my grandson Vasya Pupkin, keep my brother-in-law's brother-in-law and run me around." Further, everything is in the same vein. He asks us to just put a seal ... It's sad, but funny.
As you know, adult men like different women. Blondes and brunettes. Chubby donuts and creatures are skinny, like a Russian greyhound.
Beauties and just wow. The variety of male requests is completely covered by the variety of species and subspecies of females of Homo sapiens, but among this variety there is a small flaming island.
I hasten to disappoint you - the creatures living on this island, discovered and described by one great scientist and poetically called the same “nymphoids”, will not be the subject of our conversation.
And everyone who wants to taste the disastrous charm of these immortal demons in the guise of little girls can simply turn to a great book that they probably read or at least watched one of its two terrible adaptations, because personally I can hardly imagine an adult human being at the turn of the last two millennia who would not have heard about who Lolita is. Repeat this name, typesetter, until the page runs out.
We, quiet, law-abiding citizens, who read the criminal code more than anything else, will leave philological biology alone and simply state the fact: young, "barely pubescent" girls of almost any color and configuration have a fantastic ability to deprive adult men of reason, money and peace of mind . We will even leave these girls their unconscious childhood, let them grow up, get a passport, finish school. And maybe even go to college.
And only then - only then! - we turn our biased male attention to them. But even after that, we will always remember that they, in fact, are still children, despite their impudent long legs and defiantly short skirts, vulgar ambition, a stupid desire to be adults (after about ten years they will understand that an adult means , old, but it will be, alas, irretrievably late) and ... And we will not do anything bad to them. Let them grow.
Swan neck, gazelle eyes, pigeon character. Loose hair, not knowing any Parisian dyes, or American curlers. Perhaps even a thick braid to a round butt, but that is if you are already quite lucky. Touchingly confused in her own limbs, she loves “tartlet” cakes and, from too close a glance, slowly fills with spotty fiery paint - from small transparent ears to small, but very promising breasts. Fortunately, she doesn’t realize her real price. Till.
ORDER. Submissively wears semi-childish dresses in the waist, sun-flared skirts and shoes on carnations - in short, everything that her own mother dressed up in nostalgically distant youth. At the same time - in spite of everything - manages to look unbearably sexy. HOBBY. Literature. Music. History. Art.
IDOL. Anna Akhmatova.
HOW TO FOOT. It would seem, by the way, to drop that "Hell" - contrary to the opinion of Updike and Vonnegut - seems to you much more temporal than the "Pale Flame". All attempts by the baby to somehow develop and continue an exciting discussion should be answered with a demonic grin and the phrase: "Here you grow up, then we'll talk."
WHAT TO GIFT. A kitten. You can toy.
WHERE TO DRIVE. To the theatre.
WHAT BOYS DO LIKE HER. Smart and sublime.
SEX. Well, if you consider sex as a secret shaking of sweaty girls’s palms (at the height of the next premiere) and a chaste kiss on a flaming cheek (under the arches of your own porch) ...
But seriously, it’s better not even worry, pal. While you are groaning, sighing and afraid to insult an innocent child with a careless touch, some disheveled youth of the most infamous kind will certainly appear in the arena and without a twinge of conscience will ruin a honey hive over which you shook reverently for so long.
PROBLEMS. Mom forbids her to talk on the phone for a long time and leave the house after the program "Good night, kids." WHAT TO GROW. Blue stocking. Or an amazing bitch of the highest class.
RISK. You can not only fall in love in the most fatal way, but one fine day even rush to the girl home with a bouquet and the most idiotic expression on her face - to get married.
EXIT. Spit on everything and hit on her mother. She, by the way, is also still at least where.
ORDER. An embryonic skirt made of artificial leather, an acid-colored T-shirt and indispensable black tights with an unappetizing darn in the area of charming buttocks.
IDOL. Vovan named Behemoth from a local organized criminal group.
HOW TO FOOT. Treat a cigarette with a filter and ride on a cool car.
WHAT TO GIFT. Five bucks.
WHERE TO DRIVE. In the glass.
WHAT BOYS DO LIKE HER. Cool
SEX. Dangerous. Young entrepreneurial rubbish is quite capable of rewarding you with anything, so do not forget to use condoms. Better two at once.
PROBLEMS. He will bring his Behemoth to you and your company.
WHAT TO GROW. Station Bix.
RISK. It can easily treat you not only with gonorrhea, but also with clonidine.
All the ensuing from here.
EXIT. Never chat with dungeon children.
It’s not very good, but very young right up to spasms in the chest. Touchingly trying to follow the fashion tips of all glossy magazines at once, so she looks a bit like a village idiot, only very pure and fragrant. Primitively uneducated and naive, although if all the efforts she makes to be on the level are directed in the right direction, another Maria Sklodowska-Curie will appear to the world. At the same time, it’s quite practical as an adult, it easily operates in large amounts and is absolutely confident that a man who does not have money is not a person.
STATUS. Fashionable girl.
ORDER. Jacket from Tommy Нilfiger skirt from MoscНino, checkered Wolford tights, Casadei jeans, Le Carains jeans, D&G sweater from DKNY sweater and dress from Emorio Armam. All this is stained one on top of another embroidered with beads, glass beads, bells, rolling, ringing and shimmering. In a word - mortality. And full.
IDOL. Jean-Paul Gaultier.
HOW TO FOOT. Slam the Bentley door, take a look at the Patek PHilirre watch famously click on the Cartier lighter and tastefully drag on the Belomor cigarette
Such crumbs are quite capable of appreciating all the charm of stylish social contrasts.
WHAT TO GIFT. Cartier Watch by Cartier.
WHERE TO DRIVE. To night clubs
WHAT BOYS DO LIKE HER. Wealthy.
SEX. Everything should be slow and beautiful, as in a very bad movie. As a result, voluptuous unzip, picture hugs, lingering kisses and other tweaks and jumps will take you so much time and effort that the process itself will remain about fifteen seconds However, the girl, worried only that she could not make out the brand of your underwear, I’m unlikely to notice that you are embarrassed.
PROBLEMS. You will have to remember all the time which shoes are put on for a tuxedo and which ones for breakfast.
WHAT TO GROW. Faithful spouse and virtuous mother. Oddly enough.
RISK. At one point, you will be horrified to realize that you are turning into the main character of an endless and stupid commercial. EXIT. Do not forget to turn off the TV.
A ruffled bang, a small stubborn jaw, a fifty-sixth-size stretched T-shirt, and ugly baggy pants. He smokes like a yard bully, swears like a second year old, drives on rollers (skateboard, surf, bike, wheelbarrow, etc.) - like a real kid. But under the ugly teenage rags, a narrow waist patiently awaits the natural scientist, a snub-nosed chest and a lovely, all fiery, velvet, sunken girl’s tummy. The main thing is not to confuse the baby with her frostbitten friend.
STATUS. Tear off the head.
ORDER. Stupid. Everything is rough, clumsy, heavy, five sizes larger than necessary, and even sticks out one from under the other, like the leaves of young shaggy cabbage.
IDOL. Schumacher and Anton Komolov with MTV.
HOW TO FOOT. Shake the old days and show the little one how to mint the ball from two legs. A hundred times in a row. Or even a hundred and ten.
WHAT TO GIFT. This mountain bike.
WHERE TO DRIVE. There, where they run, jump and shoot.
WHAT BOYS DO LIKE HER. Sports.
SEX. Perhaps even a group one, because the little beast is used to living a pack life and sharing its joys and problems with other young animals.
PROBLEMS. Given the girl’s strange style of dressing, some conservative acquaintances begin to suspect you of being a secret homosexual.
WHAT TO GROW. Physical education teacher in high school.
RISK. Trying to prove to the nimble little girl that the old horse also knows how to fly on a paraglider and dive for twelve meters without scuba gear, shortly get a heart attack. The real one is the myocardium.
EXIT. Keep track of your heart rate and weight. Just in case.
Doubt what your new friend does not have, not a penis, just a character? And what are his secret addictions? You have to watch him in love games: what does he whisper in your ear, how he touches your chest. Finally, what position does he prefer and how does he behave. He does not suspect that at this moment your attentive gaze reveals its whole essence, as if in an X-ray photograph. “Create a pose for yourself and have the character to withstand it,” said Daniel Harms.
<< Sandwich Maker >>
Favorite position: classic, “missionary”: he is on top, you are on the bottom. Likes to crush you with the whole mass when you are horizontal on your back. In general, it turns out to be a typical “sandwich”, where between his body and the bed you are “filling”. He may not be aware of it himself, but it excites him, because he is from above, and therefore, rules the ball. However, he usually strives to bite your earlobe or with a passionate kiss to dig into the neck. Diagnosis. If he is hustling like a rabbit, he quickly takes pleasure and falls off, which means that he is terribly jealous, greedy and prone to get momentary pleasures and generally a bad lover. He has frequent headaches, a sore lower back, he smokes a lot, is prone to binges, his idols are coach Romantsev with a nipple cigarette and Jim Carrey. If you move slowly, sighs noisily and sweats a lot, but you don’t already know where to go, if only it would be faster, this is a problematic instance, unsure of itself. You can’t get the words that the girls need so much from him, such as: << I feel good with you, mouse >> or cool: << baby, and you're cool >>. He is not capable of feats and experiments.
<< Male >>
Favorite position: << Doggy Style >> or << Roman Horse >>. << Doggy >> or << horse >> it's you, of course. And he is a “male” or “tamer”. You try to saddle him, and he strives to attach himself to the back. Perhaps it whips you on the buttocks and pulls your hair every now and then. Diagnosis. If he “loves” strictly “back and forth”, with power, silently and sternly, like Suvorov, who decided to bomb the enemy by all means, hold on! Before you (or rather behind you) is a dangerous person with a past. The buzz from "victory" is important to this type: the partner is defeated on all fours. But at the same time, he can truly love his “doggy” with all his “dog’s” soul. So loving that living from his love shackles will no longer break out. Another lover of this pose: a romantic who adores variations on the theme of “turn hips”, move them to the right and left, while waving his arms, like wings, singing, say, “Ave Maria”. This may turn out to be a curious character for communication, but a coward trembling at the thought that you need to look into the girl’s eyes if you are face to face with her. He loves to do << it >> very often, with different girls. A sort of collector of female buttocks who are “silent”, unlike the eyes and lips. It's easier. The romantic does not like difficulties, runs away from responsibility. Eats chocolate, drinks strong drinks, plays in a casino.
<< Estet >>
Favorite position. There may be several, but they are all from the field of inconceivable balancing act with a bunch of different related intricacies. That is, everything except traditional preferences. During sexual intercourse, it begins to twist you into “nodes”, strives to put you in a lotus position, stretch it into twine, and arranges existential sexual experiments. Diagnosis. As a rule, this is an esthetician yearning for tantra, listening to alternative music, often not knowing what he wants in life. Yes, perhaps, only one departure from boredom, traditions and soulfulness. Because he is incredibly self-centered, conceited and ambitious. The center of his universe is himself. If you decide to stay with him, do not wait for care and attention and be ready to fulfill his whims, including sexual ones. The only advantage is incredible cleanliness.
<< Trainer >>
Favorite position: << Cat on a tree >>. That is, love <<weight>>: you both stand, you hang on it, wrapping your legs around his waist. He picks you up, “hangs” himself, and begins to move with force. He does it violently, screaming like Tarzan (the real one, and not the one who is the father of the child Natasha Koroleva). Can do it at the big mirror to admire herself. Yes, yes, first of all. And then you, if you are perfectly built. Diagnosis. Crazy daffodil. Most often, these are engaged in bodybuilding, fitness, tennis. And people with complexes go to bodybuilders, being at first dissatisfied with themselves, then too much in love with themselves due to bulging muscles. He is incredibly polygamous, cannot enjoy one or two girls, he definitely needs a dozen or two and certainly beauties. He will make you hang the apartment with his nude photos, tell him a sea of compliments, eat with him his protein food, necessary for bodybuilders. He listens to hard rock, Zemfira, does not drink alcohol and does not smoke. This is perhaps a plus. But from constant loads on the lower back, due to the fact that he prefers the pose “cat”, a friend may have problems with the spine, he may suffer from constipation.
<< Pretzel >>
Favorite position: on the side. He flips you on his side, lies down behind you, snuggles in, and "puts" into the bends of your body. It turns out << pretzels >> or
<< kalachik >> like anyone else. Almost the same can happen if he turns you to face him. He enjoys a slow and deep penetration into you, hugs him tightly, whispers something there. Diagnosis. He got used to warm cakes and soft home slippers, a measured rhythm of life, so that “everything on the shelves”, so that the orgasm came on time, and in sexual contact everything was predictable. Type sissy or boring married man. Tedious, like Karl Marx at the time of work on << Capital >>. If fate brings you, you will be provided with life << by Capital >> hours >> with rare sex on one side.
<< Station wagon >>
Favorite position: That's it! He is unique: cheeky, like a hussar, and courteous, like an aristocrat; rude and gentle; impudent and shy, unpredictable. Diagnosis. Such a man is a universal lover. His main passion is the pleasure of the woman he loves. He will satisfy her and will not forget about himself. What is the position for him the tenth thing. So if he loves, then he will make any sacrifice for you. True, for a long time it is unlikely to be enough: there are so many objects for worship
I’m traveling from Berdsk, home to my native Novosib, I’m smoking, I’m listening to music, they’re stopping on a lousy hill, I don’t care, all the documents are in order, my mood is good, I go out - I tell the policeman:
I'm starting to get documents. Power of attorney, vehicle registration certificate, insurance .... RIGHTS. Stop, where are they? The passage through the pockets, the second passage, more convulsive ... No. The brain is trying to remember, but it does not work. WHERE? Milzoner rejoices, but as always does not show this, sighs, shifts from foot to foot. I pick up my wife, ask if she sees rights on the table, she says no, AND REMEMBERS, a couple of days ago we went to the rink, rented skates, were left as a guarantee - I didn’t take it. Further, as always, a fine parking lot, a fine, let's go, your offers, 200, a protocol in your hands, think a piece of paper, 400, UUUU, nuuuu, 500. OK! In the morning I went to the skating rink, there were no aunts to rent, I had an uncle, I was imbued with a problem, I told him that I skated for 500 rubles, he laughed. We found the keys, searched - no, he calls the aunt from the box office, she says that she didn’t see any rights in her eyes, I ask the key question:
- WHERE do you usually put a deposit, in your desk or in a bag of shoes?
- No, not in a bag, put right in the shoes ...
A second delay ... I take off my right boot. Uncle's eyes are getting so big (he didn’t hear what she told me on the phone). I take out the boot right ... OUT!
Gentlemen, motorists REMEMBER that lost rights need not only to be rummaged in your pockets, they can be in the most interesting places! I’m standing in front of this reptile, he breds me, and his rights are in a boot ...
The husband told. Once he was looking for a certain office, this was necessary for work, and therefore he paid attention to the signs. And now, there is a building, all hung with signs hanging close to each other. There is a wide double door in it, each of the leaves of which apparently led to its own office. Above the left wing in bright letters was written "INTIM." Red on black. Over the right wing modestly flaunted “Lombard”.
The overall impression is Intimate Pawnshop. I wonder what values can be passed there?
Most recently, riding a tram. It was a day after a holiday, I just can’t remember for sure anymore. We go and here, passing a turn, the tram sharply slows down. The conductor opens the first door and then everyone watches as the conductor runs into the cabin of the tram, but with a huge sidewall from the tram. Then all rode barely restraining a smile on his face.
This is not the first year that I have been (with God's help) a freelance computer consultant to the Rostov Diocese. A kind-hearted person, clever and outstanding talent serving the conciliation of L.P. treats his computer with reverent awe and is ready to pray for it.
I taught her how to use it, and it works confidently, but she cannot overcome the panic fear of technology. For any trifle, she calls me and I in a voice full of despair and anxiety, complaining of "catastrophic problems." I always have to answer with the words:
"Dear L.P., let’s calm down and sort it out in order: what happened, what you did and what needs to be done."
Calling today, as usual, L.P. began to complain mournfully. Today, the paper jammed in the printer and it fails to remove it. - Can’t it? I already told you what to do in this case. What did you do?
- I lifted the lid and for more courage I did not have enough.
- What then?
- I called father Alexander, but he also could not take out the paper.
- Sorry. What then?
- I gave a prayer to Nikolai Ugodnik.
“And that didn't help ?!”
- Alas, no, God forgive me.
- Then what.
- Then I decided to bother you ...
My friend, nicknamed Duke, studied at the University of Minsk, he had a fellow Negro. In the first year they became friends, they lived in the neighboring blocks in the hostel.
Once, tormented by a constant feeling of hunger, Duke heard a knock and went to open the door. Behind the door you yourself knew who the notorious Negro was (I don’t remember his name). He said:
- Sasha, I bought this Russian dish - pi ... pilmen. But I do not know how to cook them.
Overwhelmed by friendly compassion and gastric juices, Duke joyfully dragged the black man into the kitchen with a pack of ravioli.
- Look. We take a saucepan, fill it with half water, salt a little and put on fire. As soon as the water boils, we throw the dumplings.
Everything was executed exactly.
- Now that the dumplings are filled up, you need to watch: those dumplings that will float up, catch and drop it on this plate. These are the bad ones. After 10 minutes remaining at the bottom - ready to eat.
The instructions were followed, and a dozen dumplings appeared on the plate. About as much as left in the pan. A black friend made an attempt to classify the spoiled dumplings as garbage, but obsessed with international solidarity and internal hunger, Duke cried out:
- Not! Let me take it - I'm on the way, and you no longer need my supervision.
Erasers Today hired two new Madame accountants.
They may be good as accountants, but as PC users it’s just awful. The bottom line: in the tax gave a diskette with a program.
At the end of the month, accounting should submit all reports on forms from that diskette to the tax one. And erase old files from a floppy disk. I bring the literal text from the help from the tax floppy: "... report files for the last (past) month must be deleted (deleted) from the floppy disk using the Delete key." Imagine my surprise when I saw on the table all the scratched floppy disk and keyboard without the Delete key.
R. s. Tomorrow you will have to go and buy / install the modem there, otherwise they will "erase" something else there; -)
I listen to the radio
This story, they say, took place years ... twenty years ago in a military hospital in the glorious city of Yekaterinburg, where one young lieutenant got either for treatment or for prevention. Well, about how "chic" the wards in our medical institutions are well-equipped (and even in those distant times) - we don’t have to say, you don’t have a TV or radio - boring things ... However, as you know, "the rumor is cunning" - and one fine day, having read all the available printings from cover to cover, and gradually falling into incredible anguish, the young man had nothing to do to find an interesting feature of an ordinary Soviet electric razor - if it is plugged in (I won’t say exactly which one : normal or radio), you can successfully accept transmission mother native radio station "Mayak". It was after this substantive lesson (an electric razor was applied to the ear, an expression of frowning concentration on the face) and the lieutenant was found by the attending physician and, naturally, asked a completely logical question:
- WHAT ARE YOU DOING?
To which I immediately received a no less logical response:
- I'm listening to the radio ...
A silent scene ... Then the young man caught on, catching the physician’s anxiously-guarded glance: - Doctor, you just don’t think what ... Here, take it, listen to it yourself - and pass the razor to the doctor. He puts it to his ear, but, as a sin, in a pause, either before the signals of the exact time, or something else, well, it doesn’t matter ..., in a word - SILENCE ...
- Taaaaaaaak ... Ho-ro-shoooooo ...
- said the doctor, giving the patient a razor ...
And then there was the circus, for a long time the unfortunate lieutenant had to prove that he was not a camel, but, they say, everything ended quite well, only for a long time this bike went around the garrison ...
A joke from the festive evening at my work. I’ll say for clarification. that our company is mainly engaged in the development of accounting software, ... The presentation department shows its presentation. At the end of it a certain lady appears on the stage, depicting a new version of the program. A whisper of programmers is heard behind me:
- God forbid, a program as terrible will come out ...
Hearing this, one of the nearby girls from the dealership department consoles them:
- Nothing, the main thing is that the same sale was ...
Then the drink made itself felt and I lay down ...
Insolent ginger cat
I was once in Moscow on business and my friend and I went to the Vagankovskoye cemetery. We went to Vysotsky, well, and then we walk along the alley. And we observe in the middle of the alley of a huge ginger cat. He lay down, crushed under the spring sun, pleased with life. They began to scratch the cat, well, so he fell away altogether, rolled over onto his back, set up his belly, legs like sea stars stick out to the sides. We talked with him and went on. And we see: three dogs are walking towards us along the alley.
They saw a cat lying still upside down, one of the dogs blundered something, like:
- And who is there pi # duley?
And they immediately went to a gallop. The cat reacted instantly, with one leap overturned to his feet and scuttled behind the fence of the nearest grave. A second later, on the spot where the cat had just blissed, there were dogs. They slowed down with their paws forward. It even seemed to us that we hear the screech of brakes and smell the scorched rubber. Turning abruptly, the dogs rushed around the fence, two on one side, a third on the other. They rushed about there, stamped, cursed, and then ... A cat came out from behind the fence. He looked over his shoulder and on his face it was written:
“Well then, guys, you play here, but I have to go, I have business.” BUT NOT SUCCESSFUL!
And this arrogant mug was not there, he didn’t run away, he WAS left along the alley, important and leisurely. And the dogs continued to scour the fence ...
Leshy There was, and maybe even now lives in the Academy (the city of Novosibirsk) such a person - Leshy. A kind of, you know, self-taught wit. He always looked grim. But with a sense of humor, everything is in order. So such a story went about him.
I must say that in a hostel an intimate life is a very conventional concept. So, for example, about Lesha the girls knew that he (I quote a friend who was checking this) was "a good man, but he ends quickly." So, Leshy comes to one distant acquaintance somehow. Very drunk. They still give in. And he says to her in a human (still) voice:
- Well, then, mother, let's get laid, what did God send?
During the classes at the military department there was a joke ... The captain (now major) Levshin wanted to make sure of the complete lack of knowledge of student Roma Pankin (we had such a very colorful personality).
- What it is? he asked, pointing at the small square with the letter “G1” on the block diagram of the superheterodyne receiver R-250 M. “Heterodyne!” - Roma cheerfully answered, having heard someone's hint.
- And then what? - asked Levshin, who also had good hearing, pointing to the square "G2".
- Geter two! - guessed Roma.
I haven’t seen such a happy face in Levshin
- For what I love the army, it's for such jokes! - he said, when the five-minute fit of laughter in the audience ended, putting a well-deserved mark to his beloved student.
The head teacher and Petya We all once went to school. And we all perfectly know this terrible word - MISS. I don’t know about you, but Tamara Grigorievna, head teacher in school 882, worked out her position by all 200%. Now the fairy tale itself: Once a geography teacher got sick. Suddenly. Without warning anyone. Well, we were delighted - there is no lesson, there is no one to replace the geography ... Yeah, now!
We look along the corridor in our direction, the small and vicious Tamara is scratching in full steam. Well, we think ... And the truth is ...
In the t-i-iho class. Even flies do not fly - they are also afraid. Above the desks, a quiet, even voice broadcasts completely without intonation. Только с самой последней парты, где сидел наш молодой Вундеркинд, любимец учительницы по алгебре и геометрии, доказавший 33 способами теорему Пифагора (не вру), спортсмен-лыжник, упавший как-то головой вниз с ледяной горки, после чего и ставший Вундеркиндом и заодно Парнем со странностями... уфф короче - Петя Корпусов, раздавалось какое-то трудолюбивое сопение. Мы все давно привыкли, что Пете совершенно по барабану что и как там говорит училка, впрочем, к этому привыкли и сами училки потому как если Петю вызывали отвечать, то потом его никак не могли остановить.
Еще маленькая подробность. Все задние парты, кто сидел там - знает, сплошь исписаны всяческими словечками и выражениями, в общем фольклор. Для Пети это была просто Книга жизни, т. к. он был абсолютно от нее оторван, и изучал эту ее сторону с величайшим усердием, пока его не оборвал гневный окрик Тамары: - Корпусов! Ты что там пишешь на парте?
- Я не пишу, Тамара Григорьевна, я читаю - оправдывается Петя...
- И что там интересного написано? - с издевкой и еще более грозно вопрошает завуч.
- ЗА-Л#-ПА!!! - по слогам читает Петя, и поднимает на Тамару невинные глаза.
Тут надо описать реакцию класса. Все, как по команде, зажали рот руками, что бы не дай Бог не засмеяться, и сидят вытаращив глаза друг на друга, понимая, что первый издавший хоть какой звук отправится на эшафот.
С Тамарой же происходили удивительные метаморфозы: она постепенно наливалась кровью, подбородок ее стал мелко подрагивать, глаза постепенно вылезали из орбит, короче вот-вот взорвется. Когда праведный гнев завуча достиг наивысшей точки кипения, и все втянули головы в плечи в ожидание конца света Тамара взревела:
- Я тебе сейчас такую ЗАЛ#ПУ покажу!!!
- Покажите... - с любопытством в голосе ответствовал невозмутимый Петя.
Больше терпеть мы не смогли.