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My Blog: jokes funny jokes


Last year's snow fell I went to buy something to chew during the overtime hours and see the painting by Repin. It is given: in the lobby between the doors there is a little peasant, well, just like a pre-revolutionary kind, to whom Vanka Zhukov wrote a letter to the village - the grandfather, in a word. All the ranks are of a light-protective color, dark-protective color with cotton pants, healthy boots with shiny galoshes, a three-a peasant from "Last year's snow fell" - all three ears in different directions, and two loose strings hang loose.
Beard with a mustache - in short, a godsend for a director of some historical film. So, this guy with a semi-bomber kind stands (but not bomzhovogo - there is some internal concentration, the correctness of the house-building) and with a serious look gutarit on the cell phone at the price of at least one and a half bucks. I quietly prus on this picture, and he ends the conversation, removes the phone under the quilted jacket, comes out of the department store, sits in a silver Lexus and takes it from his place so that immediately comes to mind "Eh, three, a bird-three."
Wet smelts Here, yesterday sat with friends and watched the picture: went dad with a little son in the bathroom to wash his hands. The son sees in the basin a large wash washed with daddy swimming trunks lying on top, raises his head and understands - sympathetically asks:
"What, dad, did you write?"
Transistor One day, at the dawn of our family life, my husband woke me up at four o'clock in the morning and said to me in a perfectly calm and awakened voice: "Nadia! The transistor has three legs! One for the collector, the other for the emitter, and the third for the base.
Then he turned away and snored.
The next morning he remembered nothing. But I remember the transistor for life.
Nobody noticed? It was a long time ago, when "open" lessons were regularly held in schools, on which there were more teachers than pupils. There was such a lesson, either in history or geography, and the teacher was just in shock, wrote the whole board in three layers, the story was exciting, and the adults and children sat with their mouths open. After the lesson, the teacher asked anxiously and her female colleagues:
- Well, how? Nobody noticed?
- What?
It turns out that in the middle of the lesson she had a rubber band, pardon, on her panties, and they slid from under the skirt to the floor.
Without interrupting the story, she got out of them, picked them up off the floor and began to wash them with chalk from the board, like a rag.
What color was the panties, history is silent ...
The cat ... My sister Olya is coming today with a decisive gait to the buffet, takes a cookbook ("About tasty and healthy food") very seriously looks at the kitten, then sits down, opens a book with a sigh and loudly comments with her finger on the table of contents:
"Kol ... the con ... com ... Oh!" I found a cat ...
I'm getting cold from bad apprehensions.
- What? I ask in a shaky voice.
- Yes, I want to fry Cottages ...
Is this a zoo? It was in a very pink childhood, in some class.
We called with the same as me, juvenile obogdaem, on an arbitrary number and asked a stunning originality question:
"Is this a zoo?"
(There follows an equally elegant passage: when you are told that this is not a zoo, you idly chuckle, you ask:
- And why then is the monkey at the phone?)
After dialing the next number and asking the sacramental question, for a short time, while the person on the other end of the wire was thinking over the answer, I could hear the clatter of dishes, a young woman's voice, the voice of an elderly woman (both in high-pitched tones) and overlapping all other sounds , child crying. After a moment's pause a tired male voice answered me:
- Nearly...
Laptop on the floor My friend left the laptop on the floor half under the bed. His aunt thought that it was a floor scales and stood up to control its 90 kg ... The screen split in two, and the guy waited 2 months for him from the service.
Do not leave laptops on the floor!
Hidden camera There was a summer event in the country.
The electrician is climbing the post with the electric wires: everything is as it should be - in cats, tied with a chain, in the hands of a wire cutter, starts fiddling with wires, and a boy such as twelve, with a video camera in his hands appears next to him and starts to shoot the electrician (on camera). Five minutes pass - the boy takes pictures.
Ten minutes passes - the boy shoots. Fifteen minutes passes - the electrician asks: - Boy, what is it you're shooting me and taking pictures (on camera), eh?
And the boy says:
- And it's me, uncle, I want you to send an eyewitness how you fall from this place when you are fucked !!!
Supports! Beams! Overlapping! No cooler jokes than in life, you just have to be able to identify them from the environment. For example, imagine a picture: at the table are the son-in-law and mother-in-law. The son-in-law takes out a small neat drawing of A4 format and starts shouting:
- Support! Beams! Overlapping! Priming! The frame!
On what the mother-in-law takes out the same professional, but slightly different drawing and shouts in reply:
- Overlapping! Dew point! Condensate!
It's a little funny, is not it? And if I say that this picture is repeated almost every day for six months now? The fact is that the son-in-law (engineer-designer of heavy engineering plants) and his mother-in-law (design engineer of oil refineries) can not agree on how exactly the toilet at the dacha should be built ...
So I'm thinking - where did I come from, a geek-programmer in the family of hereditary builders?
30 rules of the mistress of the extra-class. Men love sex, they love women who love sex, so whether to hesitate and repeat for bad mistresses, and just not very smart women "they just need it ...".
After all, we certainly know that this is not so!
1. You can not make love to a full stomach, burdened with a hearty meal, otherwise the man will be sluggish and sleepy, and the blood will flow to the stomach, and not where necessary.
2. To "eat" and drink before sex is best suited aphrodisiac products:
- seafood;
- oysters (by the way, they adored Casanova);
- milkshake with fresh fruit;
- omelette;
- sandwiches with caviar;
- a glass of aniseed vodka;
- chops with garlic and other "garlic" dishes (there is definitely two together!);
- Chocolate;
- cedar and any other nuts;
- sour cream and fresh herbs;
- spicy, but not very high-calorie meals;
- vegetable and fruit salads, as well as fresh fruits and vegetables;
- sharp dishes (about the temperament of the Caucasians, I think you heard more than once);
- mulled wine (in high doses causes drowsiness);
- krushon (in large doses causes a violation of coordination of movements);
- a glass of cognac;
- glass of wine;
- A cup of cocoa, strong tea or coffee.

3. A good lover always knows what her man wants. She is guessing or feeling, calculating by selection, and with sufficient experience applies even the theory of probability. Sex ends in bed, but begins with thoughts and conversations, trust and joint experiences. Men make love to the brain, not "one place", and fuck only with women who do not understand this.

4. We must not think, but give the man what he wants, fill it with caresses, fulfill whims, but not be intrusive in personal relationships (for example, "to torture" him with calls, demanding attention to himself). The strongest networks are invisible. It is they who skillfully seduces the body, soul and brain of a man.

5. More geishas knew the right tool for "love" - ​​the copying of gestures, words, mimicry of a man. Psychologists say that it is easiest to get the location of a new acquaintance by copying it. Perhaps the establishment of contact occurs subconsciously, based on ancient instincts, which can still be seen in animals. The interlocutor takes you for a member of his pack, you like doing a ritual dance together. Contact also has feedback. You begin to understand the interlocutor better, which means that you better match his expectations.

6. An extra-class lover does not allow herself to become a "veshchiyanka", who buys clothes at her own whim or in her own, not very good, taste. Match, even without seeing the chosen one - this is a preliminary tuning for the man of his dreams. You have to approach the issue of clothing on the other side, from the side of the man who looks at you for the first time. And he does not look at clothes at all, but on you as a whole. And he does not give a damn about the cost of your outfit. The maximum that an average man can compute, this is from a Chinese market dressed woman or from an expensive store. On clothes are often paid attention when it "does not go".

7. The main thing in a relationship with a man is to give everything that you have without thinking about yourself, without selfishness and miscalculations of what will happen next, not being afraid to dilute, and then get for it in triple.

8. Do not look into the man's eyes after the first night together with the question: "When will you come next time?". A man is very important to feel like a master. Calling him home and at work, you put him in an uncomfortable position before colleagues, or maybe another woman with whom he will not part until he is sure that you are better. Why from the very beginning to spoil everything? So, a good lover will never allow herself to be intrusive.

9. Men least like to be put before a hard choice. The male ina is lost, embittered and ... makes completely illogical acts, in which he then regrets for a long time. Why check his feelings for strength, if the same forces can be used to make them stronger?

10. To complain to a man is the last thing. As a rule, our problems seem to them insignificant and ridiculous, and complaints - female whims. Here they, men, have REAL problems, they can be talked about for hours. So, when it comes to life's difficulties - count on yourself, forget that you have a loved one or turn to him only in the extreme and in fact a serious case.

11. Men in the long run do not give a damn, in all cases, at first, do you feel pleasure in bed. Only very few men can recognize the pretender, portraying passion. Not the passion of a woman, but her desire flattered the self-esteem of men. Many unattractive and stupid women have won the hearts of smart, beautiful and non-poor men only because they have clearly grasped this rule. Only having achieved, that you have grown fond, you can demand caresses which will lift you on tops of pleasure.

12. There is a misconception that men do not like clever people. Not smart, but those who overly demonstrate their mind, pointing to the man on the gaps in his knowledge. A smart woman never shows that she is smarter, does not over-emphasize her superiority in anything.

13. The ability to make a house beautiful and cozy still has not harmed anyone. It is pleasant for any man to come to a house in which order and smells good (in the everyday sense, order and smell are almost synonyms).

14. An extra-class lover knows that for men, love is much less important than for women. You should not torture a man, forcing him to tell "how much you love me". Men such behavior pushes to the idea that women only have all sorts of romantic nonsense on their minds, and consequently they are stupid as geese.

15. Even if a man has been making a fuss, it is not worth "torturing him with suspicions", he still does not admit. Being on the other side of the barricade, that is, being a mistress, it is also not worth "to place tags": to dirty his things with lipstick and to sprinkle perfume, to scratch his back in a fit of passion. He is not your property.

16. The next rule: never teach a man to live. We all do not like moral teachings from school, and many just do not like their parents for moralizing. You do not want to become like them, do you?

17. The ability to forgive is also the ability not to recall past mistakes. To forgive is to forget ... or pretend to have forgotten.

18. An extra-class lover knows: all men are obsessed with the thought that they want to use, rob and let go of the world. Nothing detracts in the first days and months of acquaintance like mercantile.

19. Coquetry is our weapon, if applied to the place and with the mind. The task of a sexual woman is to make it clear that even though she is a female, she is by no means an idle whore.

20. An extra-class lover knows that jumping in after the first (and subsequent) nights and running to paint-wash is stupid. Most men like to "pardon" in the morning, they like women without "combat coloring". And if you're shy, buy a waterproof mascara or make an easy tattoo.

21. It is foolish to think that a man who has serious intentions will hold a pause and not call for several weeks. The man who liked you most likely will call within three days, the rest is surely an attempt to use you << for babies >>. It is meaningless how to wait, and << to lead >> to proposals that came in a few weeks, and then be led >> and months.

22. An extra-class lover never completes her appearance, knowing that most men run from squeezed and complexed, and not from plump and non-standard ones. And even more so do not run away from the partner just because of the size of the chest.

23. If you want everything to end quickly:
- squeeze the muscles of the vagina;
- change the position, so that inside became << closer >>, and the head of the penis was stimulated by the cervix for each friction;
- pay attention to the positions that accelerate the approach of ejaculation:
knee-elbow in any variation; a woman on her back, with strongly compressed legs (there will not be a big difference - they are stretched or raised and bent at the chest level); in the Hussars - the legs lying on their back, the women are thrown over the partner's shoulders; fish - a woman on her stomach with legs straightened and heavily pinched, a man on top;
- take an active position and supervise the introduction of the penis so that it is obtained: once - until the very end, and two - only a shallow introduction stimulating the head;
- active oral stimulation - an excellent end to sexual intercourse;
- if not enough lubricant, use a gel-lubricant - this will speed things up;
- whisper a few dirty words to him, maybe this will lead you too;
- if the pose allows, grasp the base of the penis with two fingers and further stimulate it;
- caress yourself, your excitement is a powerful stimulus for a man;
- ask to rest, and in thirty minutes, renew your caresses;
- Make a move to meet him, deeply "sitting down" on the penis.
- Kiss his ears, neck, scratch his back, squeeze the buttocks with his hands or gently massage the testicles;
- as a joke depict the victim, try to push it slightly and climb, but do not overdo it;
- do not let him lose his rhythm;
- cheer on your loved one with loud groans.
24. For a free and self-confident woman there are no rules when and where to give herself to a man at first, and in the next times. If a woman agrees to intimacy on the first evening, it does not follow from this that the husband of the rank will consider her to be of particular easy behavior. According to statistics, only thirty percent of men are supporters of the phased development of relations and courtship.

25. An extra-class lover is never shy about discussing contraception with a man. What's so shameful about it? Yes, more protection is your problem, but making a man wear two condoms is also not an option. According to men, if a woman does not consent to sex without a condom (of course, not at the first meeting, but when the relationship has lasted for a while), a man may think that she is sick with some venereal disease or suspects , that he himself may be sick. Both are not very pleasant to realize.
If you do not have money for birth control pills, feel free to ask them to teach you how to buy your man. There is nothing shameful in such a request, and buying hormonal contraceptives solves two problems at once: preventing pregnancy and getting full satisfaction from intimacy without a nasty condom.

26. Do not get carried away by reading manuals on sexual techniques.
Most of them are not too successful << rehearsal >> << Kamasutra >> with comments of the concerned author. Councils of foreigners do not suit us at all. What will the tired after work husband tell you if you meet him at the door in latex panties? The effect of the sexual revolution may be the opposite - the man will run away to the "traditionalist", unmarried on sex.

27. If you want to prolong the pleasure:
- Do not let him move too fast;
- Relax the muscles of the vagina;
- Ask him to stop briefly the frictions;
- change the pose;
- Pay attention to the positions that prolong the sexual intercourse: the woman on top, the woman lying on her back, with her legs raised and widely divorced, on her side << with spoons >> (the woman with her back to the partner's face), facing each other;
- in the midst of extracting a member from the vagina - and kiss it, only very gently, otherwise everything will end even faster;
- Ask him to breathe deeper;
- Tell me about the charms of tantric or Taoist sex. Special (by the way, not too complicated) exercises will help control ejaculation as long as you want.
28. The rule of choosing underwear: buy only what your beloved man likes. Beautiful underwear and bed linen - a guarantee of lasting and long relationships and self-confidence.
29. The best smell is the smell of your body, plus a drop of good perfume. Men are more likely to be deterred by excessive perfume and the smell of sweat (a nightmare inculcated in advertising!) Than the absence of the smell of perfume.
30. Men love sex, they love women who love sex, so whether it's worth embarrassing and repeating for bad mistresses, and just not very smart women "they just need it ...".
After all, we certainly know that this is not so!

Have killed a Negro ... I guess I'm not very original, but for all the time of my stay in the Togolese Republic (short but very eventful) I remembered the lines familiar from childhood Korney Ivanovich Chukovsky: << Do not go, children, Africa to walk! >>. And here I go. And there were exotic things - more than enough.
Little did not seem.
Aeroflot planes do not fly to Togo. In Moscow there is not even an embassy of this nice African country. Once it was, but it was closed. In Togo, I got in transit, on the way from Ghana to Benin.
The Ghanaian taxi driver took me to the border. In the windows of the prehistoric Toyota, opened on the occasion of the eternal heat, numerous black hands with thick stacks of money immediately appeared. Street money changers suggested that I change the Ghanaian cedi, which outside of Ghana is valued below the toilet paper, the currency of the CFA francs operating in Togo and several neighboring countries.
From the exchange, I refused, because I spent the garbage of Ghanaian currency, and the dollars lying in my pocket could have been tolerated until I crossed the border and found myself in the capital of Togo, the city of Lomé. In any case, I thought so at that moment. I got out of the car and asked the driver to open the trunk, where my travel bag lay. The bag was immediately picked up by a Negro and ran towards the state border. Do not think that he wanted to steal her - he just wanted to earn some money. In West Africa, on a white man, they want to earn just about everything with whom they have to face.
Except perhaps the richest, who already provided their families with money from the IMF and other philanthropic organizations. I immediately caught Negra by the shoulder and explained that I was quite capable of carrying the bag myself.
Then he offered his services in another matter - an unhindered crossing of the border. In total for 20 000 cedi (that is, three US dollars) I was promised, that I will be able to pass 2 border posts and 2 customs out of turn, without searches, waiting and other problems. I looked ahead. In front of the small gate of the border checkpoint was a group of black citizens, number and organization resembling a clothing market in Luzhniki. And I, unfortunately, accepted the offer I made.
Next to the negro immediately appeared his friend, who at the same time was the best friend of all border and customs orders of both countries. We really went without any queue. The border guard took my passport and said that all the documents are in order, there is not enough trivia. The best friend translated the small denomination.
The 1 dollar dollar paper disappeared in the drawer of his desk and the documents were in perfect order. Another customs officer believed for 1 dollar that I should not be examined.
On a neutral strip small bucks, alas, over. And big problems began. An old one-eyed soldier barred my way and my companions with a rubber truncheon. You can go? - I asked. It's hot today - looking the only eye in the bright blue African sky, noticed a veteran of some kind of African war. I repeated the question.
Eh, a beer to drink - hinted the soldier. I looked around to see if they were selling beer. They did not sell. The smallest banknote in my wallet was worth 500 French francs. On this money in West Africa, you can drink on a box of beer a day for a month and will remain surrendered.
I reasonably decided that the veteran would be too fat. He just as reasonably judged that such a greedy white should not be allowed further. Past one-eyed calmly passed by others wishing to get to Togo, I was standing still and thirty-five degrees of heat inspired me to think that beer would be really very handy. Then one of my companions came to my aid: Come on, I'll pay him, and you'll give me on that side. I nodded, the soldier got rich on 1000 CFA francs (or, as they are called in Africa, Sifa), the process of crossing the border continued.
The next stage was Togolese border guard. Is there a visa? - He asked. I received a provisional visa in the Embassy of Togo in Ghana and therefore proudly demonstrated the necessary page of the passport to the guard of the border. It made an extremely negative impression on him. - How much did you pay for it? - He asked.
- 20 thousand sifa.
- The visa is invalid.
- Why?
- Pay another 20 thousand to me, then it will be valid.
To me this idea did not seem too interesting, but then the Negro who accompanied me handed the border guard two pieces of paper for 10,000 and dragged me towards the second customs. The green corridor cost another 1,000. And I finally stepped on the land of Togo. I changed some money, and meanwhile my companions caught a taxi for me. The bag was carefully placed in the trunk, hospitably flung open the front door in front of me, and they themselves sat down in the back seat.
"Remember, did you promise to return the money that I paid your way?" You also have to pay for our services. I think 300 dollars for two will be honest. the African said dreamily.
It seemed to me that either he was joking or I misheard. I did not reply.
- Well, at least 200 dollars. Сто - мне, сто - моему другу.
Хм, значит, не ослышался. Но услуги по выдаче коррумпированным госслужащим мелким купюр, на мой взгляд, не стоили 100 долларов, не говоря уж об услугах носильщика.
- Это очень много, - сказал я.
- Давай 100 долларов на двоих, - снизил запросы носильщик.
- 100 долларов - это тоже много.
- А сколько же ты хочешь заплатить?
- Максимум 10 долларов.
- Моё последнее слово - 50.
- А моё последнее слово - бери 10 и до свиданья - твёрдо заявил я, даже не поворачиваясь в сторону заднего сиденья.
Похоже, чернокожие исчерпали свой словарный запас. Потому что я неожиданно ощутил у своего горла что-то металлическое. Я скосил глаза вниз и убедился, что это лезвие ножа. Тут мне в голову неожиданно пришла мысль, что жаднич ать нехорошо, ребята трудились как могли, а я лишаю несчастных голодающих африканцев их законного заработка. Я достал кошелёк и протянул им свою самую мелкую, 500-франковую бумажку. Африканцы вышли из машины, а таксист, все это время с интересом наблюдавший за нашей беседой, повёз меня в отель. Проблема была в том, что надо было где-то поменять деньги. После потери 500 франков у меня остались только самые популярные у россиян купюры - 100-долларовики. Я попросил таксиста остановить машину у какого-нибудь банка.
Банк подвернулся скоро. Он был закрыт. В пяти метрах от входа стоял популярный в Африке дорожный знак Тут писать запрещено . Знак этот выглядит следующим образом . красный круг (как на обычных дорожных знаках), внутри него на белом фоне черный кудрявый человечек, от которого тянется параболическая струйка. Безобразник перечеркнут красной полосой.
Подобные знаки встречаются нечасто. В Того и сопредельных государствах они устанавливаются около банков, солидных офисных зданий, дорогих супермаркетов. Все остальные места используются местными жителями как общественный туалет. Только самые стеснительные пользуются для подобных целей пляжами. Обычные же туалеты, в европейском понимании этого слова, встречаются не чаще, чем у нас в тундре.
Около знака - и это тоже западноафриканская традиция - стоял охранник, следивший за тем, чтобы никто не нарушал требования дорожного знака. - Почему банк закрыт? I asked.
- Пасха.
- Какая пасха зимой? - обалдел я.
- Я - вудуист, меня не волнуют ваши христианские праздники - пояснил охранник.
- А завтра будет работать?
- Завтра - будет, - пообещал поклонник вуду.
И вдруг резко вставил в рот свисток и куда-то побежал, свистя на ходу. Я проследил за ним взглядом. На небольшом расстоянии от нас какой-то прохожий справлял малую нужду, несмотря на знак. Кроме охранника банка, к нему с другой стороны бежали трое полицейских. Подбежав, они вежливо попросили виновного проследовать в участок, предварительно вылив на него балончик слезоточивого газа и немного побив резиновыми дубинками и ногами, пока лицо и белая рубашка негра не приобрели одинаковый цвет - красный.
Бедняга! - подумал я. - А деньги в отеле придется поменять. Только на курсе, небось, обманут - подумал я. Это решение тоже оказалось ошибочным.
Мимо поста ГАИ зигзагами проносится машина. Естественно, нарушителя тормозят. Машина останавливается, оттуда выходит о-о-очень пьяная дама, облокачивается на свой автомобиль, выплёвывает на дорогу шоколадную кофетку и обращается к гаишнику:
-Ик...представляешь....с ликёром попалась!...
Сидим с приятелем в кабинете. В углу стоит искусственный цветок с красно-зелеными листьями в соломенном горшке, заполненном мхом. Стук в дверь. Заходит молодая блондинка-секретарша и начинает деловито вытряхивать в цветок содержимое заварника.
Мы переглядываемся и приятель спрашивает: "Оля, ты что делаешь?" Она говорит:
"Да вы не беспокойтесь, это растению полезно, это как удобрение." Нас разрывает, но с серьезным видом диалог продолжается. "А ты часто его поливаешь?". "Да нет, раз в неделю. Зимой цветы заливать нельзя." Напряжение нарастает. И тут я говорю.
"Ладно, вечером можешь отломать веточку на развод." ... Утро. Красная Оля и погнутая проволочная ветка.
Отношение к мышам
Мы с моей мамой очень похожи, но отношение к мышам у нас диаметрально противоположное.
С мамой произошел как-то такой случай. Сидела она как-то еще до Горби на посольской даче под Нью-Йорком, и начали на территорию ломиться какие-то демонстранты-экстремисты. Мама стала звонить в полицию. А на даче жила кошка. Страшная, как смерть, но с нежным и ласковым характером. И вот мама объясняется с полицейскими, а тут появляется Фима с полуживой мышкой в зубах и кладет ее у маминых ног.
Подарок, мол. Выдержка советских людей не знает границ - мама продолжает говорить по телефону, медленно покрываясь холодным потом. Фима, видимо, подумала, что мама не умеет кушать мышку в шкурке, и, придушив продукт, стала его разделывать, заботливо подкладывая самые вкусные кусочки маме на колени. В полиции повесили трубку, и тут мама, наконец, закричала. А на линии оставалась телефонистка.
Говорят, в тот раз полицейский наряд, обычно в таких случаях не спешивший, приехал через две минуты.
А со мной все наоборот. Мы с Майком работали по ночам.
Иногда уходили рано - часов в пять утра. Как-то раз заперли уже все двери, и вдруг я вижу - бежит по коридору мышка. Ей деваться было особо некуда, ну, я ее и поймала. Запихнула в карман. Идем к выходу. Майк пошел электричество вырубать, а я стою около вахтера (который нас доставал безумно своими визитами на наш этаж и претензиями к нашей ночной работе).
И вот тут-то мышь у меня из кармана и выпрыгнула. Во мне проснулись соответствующие инстинкты, и с диким криком "Мяу" я бросилась на убегающую мышь. На глазах у вахтера.
Поймала. Мышь у нас несколько дней прожила, потом мы ее выпустили. А вахтер в наш отдел больше никогда не заходил - даже днем. 2 модема
Приходит как-то к нам в фирму, торгующую железом, один весьма амбициозный господин и требует продать ему два модема - внутренний и внешний.
- А зачем вам одному два модема? - спрашиваем. Он поглядел свысока:
- Как это зачем? Внутренний для связи в России, внешний с заграницей.
Пришлось продать оба - очень уж он настаивал. Фамилии
Сегодня на работе от нефига делать решил сидюк с телефонной базой покрутить. Дык такие корки - я часа два этой фигней страдал. Вот, например, выяснил, что в Москве обитают: 4 Сидюка, 2 Писюка, 1 Комп, 1 Проц, 4 Мейлера, 1 Пентюх, целых 8 Виндюковых, 9 Саксов, 1 Хакер (неплохо, а?) и аж 6 человек по фамилии Бизи... А вот просто корочные фамилии:
Слон, Жмотов, Чмырь (аж 13 человек!), Хернес, Пукман, Нарков (причем я там еще Наркевичуса нашел;) и Тормоз...
Еще я хотел бы посмотреть на человека с фамилией Дохлик. А увидев фамилии Нирванов, Металликов и Пантеров я просто со стула упал...

Таможенное пари
Однажды генерал-губернатор Новороссийского края князь Воронцов и его друг помещик Торопов присутствовали при задержании контрабандистов на таможне.
- Дураки, - сказал помещик, - не могут провести незаметно контрабанду. Ведь таможенников очень легко обмануть.
- Вы ошибаетесь, - ответил ему главный таможенный начальник, - мы контрабанду легко найдем, где бы ее ни спрятали.
- Раз вы так уверены, давайте заключим пари.
В разговор вмешался князь Воронцов.
- Я принимаю пари и ставлю сто тысяч рублей. Вам контрабанду незаметно не провезти.
- Завтра в двенадцать часов дня я провезу контрабанду, и вы ее не заметите. В свою очередь, против ваших ста тысяч я ставлю свое имение. Посмотрим, чья возьмет.
- Что же вы повезете? - поинтересовался таможенный начальник.
- Кружева, бриллианты и другие драгоценности. Ровно на десять тысяч рублей.
На следующий день в назначенный час к таможне подъехала коляска, в которой сидел помещик Торопов. Начался обыск.
Помещика увели в отдельную комнату, раздели догола, осмотрели каждую складку его платья и белья, но ничего не нашли. Такому же строгому обыску был подвергнут его кучер.
Отпороли обивку экипажа. Нигде контрабанды не было.
Пошли на крайнюю меру: разрубили экипаж, предварительно уплатив Торопову приличную сумму денег за него. Нигде ничего.
- Ну, что, закончили осмотр?
- Закончили, - уныло подтвердили таможенники.
- Где же ваша контрабанда? Показывайте!
- обратился к помещику князь.
Торопов подозвал к себе белую собачонку, спокойно дремавшую у дерева, и попросил подать ему ножницы. Потом он распорол <шкуру> своего пуделя вдоль спины. Оказалось, что он навертел на простую дворняжку дорогих кружев, между ними расположил бриллианты и другие драгоценности, после чего искусно <упаковал> невольную сообщницу в шкуру пуделя, а лапы, хвост и голову выкрасил в белый цвет.
Пари он, разумеется, выиграл. Карлсон
Лет -надцать лет назад в Норильске наблюдал забавную картину. В то время снегоходов было мало, и один изобретатель приспособил на спину движок с пропеллером, типа как у Карлсона, только винты были побольше. Встал на лыжи, включил пропеллер и поехал.
Я видел финальную стадию этого трюка. Кулибин благополучно въехал в дом, руки у него оказались придавленными к стене и выключить двигатель он не мог. Подойти к нему было невозможно из-за пропеллера (как в анекдоте про Карлсона:
<Голубые, от винта! >). Минут через пятнадцать топливо кончилось, и он смог оторваться от стены. Я пищал от восторга! Диалог
Как-то после сложной трудовой недельки меня разбудить пытались, так диалог произошел примерно такой:
- Наташ, вставай!
- Ты цены на флопы и сидюки знаешь?
- Наташ, ты чего?
- Короче, забирай шнур, и уходи.
Зашел мужик в антикварную лавку, вяло посмотрел на прилавок, собрался уже уходить. Вдруг видит: у входа кошечка молочко пьет, а блюдечко [мать не видать!] - Тутанхамон! 7-ой век до нашей эры!
Мужик возвращается к продавцу:
- Извините, я одинокий человек, живу без друзей... Вот ваша кошечка мне так приглянулась... Вы не могли бы мне ее отдать?
- Нет, нет. Ее так мои дети любят.
- Ну, я такой одинокий... Я вам 10 долларов дам...
- Нет, нет, не продается.
Наконец, на 150 долларов сторговались. Мужик уходит, уже в дверях оборачивается:
- Ваша кошечка, наверно, привыкла пить из этого блюдечка, вы не отдадите?
- Нет, нет.
- Я вам 10 долларов за него дам...
- Ну что вы, это же Тутанхамон, 7-ой век до нашей эры... Я так уже 87 кошечек продал..
Заходит в заднюю дверь мужик. Пьяный в дрова, но на ногах держится.
И самое интересное, что руки у него в карманах. Стоит шатается. Потом решает идти вперед. Надо отметить, что трамвай полупустой - заняты только сидячие места (потому как раннее утро). Так вот, мужичок начинает движение вперед по ходу движения трамвая. В этот момент трамвай трогается.
Следуя законам физики и земного тяготения, мозжечок мужичка отдает его телу приказание наклониться вперед, дабы оно (тело) не упало назад. Наклонившись вперед от вертикали градусов на 30, НЕ ВЫНИМАЯ РУК ИЗ КАРМАНОВ, мужичок продолжает движение вперед. Проходит примерно треть вагона, после чего трамвай сразу после ускорения (неслабого) резко тормозит не знаю по какой причине.
Что дальше произошло, многие уже наверное догадались. Ессно, руки в карманах у него запутались Но он не упал лицом об пол, нет Пытаясь сохранить равновесие он начал бежать вперед, причем на скорости, близкой к скорости бешеной антилопы.
Но бежать не вынимая руки из кармана все-таки сложновато, да еще когда спирт в мозгах булькает. В итоге ноги у него заплетаются, он падает на пузо, проезжает на нем остаток вагона и заезжает головой в открытую дверь вагоновожатого, а точнее - вагоновожатой Вынимая руки из карманов, и еще лежа на полу он произносит: "Мадам, я просто ох@ваю от вашего Феррари!"

Новый пункт в анкетах: "Есть ли у вас родственники в Большом театре?"
После того, как солист ленинградского театра оперы и балета Барышников стал невозвращенцем, в буфете театра появились конфеты "Мишка на западе".
- Кто такие Белоусова и Протопопов?
- Конькобеженцы.

Антирадар
Еду, значит, сегодня в машине (с водителем за рулём), и тут антирадар как запищит. Заканчиваем поворот и видим: стоит мент, залез рукой под плащ и копается в районе ширинки.
- Радар поправляет, - говорит водитель.
Следующая остановка
На остановке Платонова в переполненный автобус лез какой-то пенсионер и ему руку зажало дверью:
- Дверь открой, придурок, руку сломаешь!!!
Водитель, не расслышав:
- Следующая остановка гипсовый завод...