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Last year's snow fell I went to buy something to chew during overtime and I see a picture of Repin. It is given: in the lobby between the doors there is a muzhik, well, of exactly that kind of pre-revolutionary type, to which Vanka Zhukov wrote a letter to the village — grandpa, in one word. All ranks are in a light protective color, dark protective color cotton trousers, healthy valenoks with shiny galoshes, three and a man from “Last year’s Snow” - all three ears in different directions, and two unbound knitted dangles.
Beard with a mustache - in short, a godsend for the director of some historical film. So, there is this little man of a semi-domestic look (but not a homeless one - there is some kind of internal concentration, domostroevskaya correctness) and with a serious look on a cell phone at a price of one and a half bucks. I quietly cut myself off from this picture, and he ends the conversation, puts the phone under the quilted jacket, leaves the department store, sits in a silver Lexus and takes it so that the "Three, three, bird three" comes to mind.
Wet swimming trunks Here, yesterday sat with friends and watched a picture: send dad with a small son to the bathroom to wash his hands. The son sees in the basin a soaked large wash with Daddy's swimming trunks lying on top, raises his head and knowingly - sympathetically asks:
- What, Dad, recorded?
Transistor Once, at the dawn of our family life, my husband woke me up at four o'clock in the morning and in a completely calm and awakened voice loudly said to me: “Nadya! The transistor has three legs! One to the collector, the other to the emitter, and the third to the base.
Then he turned away and snored.
The next morning he remembered nothing. But about the transistor, I remember for a lifetime.
Nobody noticed? It was a long time ago, when "open" lessons were regularly held in schools, in which there were more teachers than students. There was such a lesson, whether in history or geography, and the teacher was just in shock, wrote the entire board in three layers, the story was exciting, and the adults and the children sat with their mouths open. After the lesson, the teacher anxiously asked her female colleagues:
- Well, how? Nobody noticed?
- What?
It turns out that in the middle of the lesson the rezinochka, pardon, burst in her panties, and they slipped from under her skirt to the floor.
Without interrupting the story, she left them, picked them up from the floor and began to erase the chalk from the blackboard like a rag.
What color was the panties, the story is silent ...
Cat ... My sister Olya comes up today with a resolute gait to the buffet, takes a cookbook ("On Healthy and Healthy Food") very seriously looks at the kitten, then sits down, opens the book with a sigh, and loudly comments on it leads her finger on the table of contents:
- Call ... con ... com ... Oh! Has found - a cat ...
I get cold from bad forebodings.
- What? - I ask in a quivering voice?
- Yes, here I want to fry the cutlets ...
Is it a zoo? It was in a very pink childhood, in some class.
We called with the same child as I, stunned by an adolescent number, and asked an amazing question with its originality:
- Is it a zoo?
(This is followed by a no less elegant passage: when they tell you that this is not a zoo, you, giggling like an idiot, ask:
- Why then a monkey on the phone?)
Having dialed the next number and asking a sacramental question, in a short time, while the man on the other end of the wire was thinking about the answer, I managed to hear the clatter of dishes, a young female voice, the voice of an elderly woman (both on high tones) and overlapping all other sounds baby crying. After a second pause, a tired male voice answered me:
- Nearly...
Laptop on the floor My friend left a laptop on the floor half under the bed. His aunt thought that it was a bathroom scale and got up to check her 90 kg ... The screen split in two, and the guy had been waiting for him from the service for 2 months.
Do not leave laptops on the floor!
Hidden camera There was one case in the summer in the country.
An electrician climbs onto a pole with wires: everything is as it should be - in cats, tied with a chain, in the hands of wire cutters, he starts to mess around with the wires, and a boy appears next to him, about twelve years old, with a video camera in his hands and starts to shoot an electrician (on camera). Five minutes pass - the boy takes off.
Ten minutes passes - the boy takes off. Fifteen minutes passes - the electrician asks: - Boy, what are you shooting and shooting me (on camera), huh?
And the boy says:
- And this is me, uncle, I want to send an eyewitness to you as you fall from here when you are fucked with a current !!!
Supports! Beams! Overlap! There are no cooler jokes than in life, you just need to be able to identify them from the environment. For example, imagine a picture: a son-in-law and a mother-in-law sit at the table. The son-in-law takes out a small neat A4 drawing and starts screaming:
- Supports! Beams! Overlap! Priming! Carcass!
To which the mother-in-law takes the same professional, but a slightly different drawing and shouts back:
- Overlap! Dew point! Condensate!
Already a little funny, is not it? And if I say that this picture is repeated almost every day for six months already? The fact is that the son-in-law (engineer of heavy engineering) and mother-in-law (engineer of oil refineries) cannot agree on what exactly the toilet should be built in the country ...
So I think - where did I come from, a geek programmer in a family of hereditary builders?
30 rules mistress of extra-class. Men love sex, they love women who love sex, so is it worth it to be shy and repeat after bad mistresses, and just not very clever women << they just need this ... >>.
After all, we certainly know that this is not so!
1. You can not make love on a full stomach, burdened with a hearty dinner, otherwise the man will be sluggish and sleepy, and the blood will flow to the stomach, and not where you want.
2. For eating and drinking before sex, aphrodisiacs are best suited:
- seafood;
- oysters (by the way, they were adored by Casanova);
- Milk shake with fresh fruit;
- scrambled eggs;
- sandwiches with caviar;
- a glass of anisette;
- chops with garlic and other << garlic >> dishes (there must be two together!);
- chocolate;
- pine and any other nuts;
- sour cream and fresh greens;
- spicy, but not very high-calorie dishes;
- vegetable and fruit salads, as well as fresh fruits and vegetables;
- spicy dishes (about the temperament of the Caucasians, I think you heard more than once);
- mulled wine (in large doses causes drowsiness);
- kryushon (in large doses causes a loss of coordination of movements);
- A glass of brandy;
- glass of wine;
- A cup of cocoa, strong tea or coffee.

3. A good lover always knows what her man wants. She guesses it or feels it, calculates it by the method of selection, and with enough experience even applies probability theory. Sex ends in bed, and begins with thoughts and conversations, trust and joint experiences. Men make love with brains, not “one place”, and only fuck women who do not understand this.

4. It is necessary not to think, but to give the man what he wants, to float him with caresses, to fulfill whims, but not to be intrusive in personal relationships (for example, “to torture” him with calls, demanding attention to yourself). The most durable nets are invisible. It is they who skillful temptress braids the body, soul and brain of a man.

5. More geisha knew the right means for “love spell” - copying gestures, words, facial expressions of a man. Psychologists say that to achieve the location of a new friend is the easiest way to copy it. Probably, the establishment of contact occurs subconsciously, on the basis of ancient instincts, which can still be peeped in animals. The interlocutor takes you for the members of his pack, as if you are performing a certain ritual dance together. Contact has a feedback. You begin to better understand the interlocutor, and therefore, better meet his expectations.

6. A top-class mistress does not allow herself to become a "clothing woman" who buys clothes at her own whim or in her own, not very good, taste. To conform, even without seeing the chosen one, is a preliminary adjustment to the man of your dreams. You have to approach the issue of clothing from a completely different side, from the side of a man who looks at you for the first time. And he does not look at clothes at all, but at you as a whole. And he does not care about the cost of your outfit. The maximum that the average man is able to calculate is from a Chinese market dressed woman or from an expensive store. Clothes are more likely to pay attention when they are “not going”.

7. The main thing in a relationship with a man is to first give everything that you have, without thinking about yourself, without selfishness and miscalculations of what will happen next, without fear of spoiling, and then get triple for it.

8. You should not look into the eyes of a man after the first night spent jointly with the question: “When will you come next time?”. A man is very important to feel like a master. By calling him at home and at work, you put him in an uncomfortable position in front of colleagues, and perhaps another woman, with whom he will not part until he is convinced that you are better. Why spoil everything from the start? So, a good lover will never allow himself to be intrusive.

9. Men least of all love when they are put before a tough choice. A man's ina is lost, he becomes embittered, and ... does completely illogical acts, which he repents for a long time afterwards. Why test his feelings for strength, if the same forces can be used to make them stronger?

10. Complaining to a man is the last thing. As a rule, our problems seem insignificant and ridiculous to them, and complaints - female whims. Here they have men, the problems are PRESENT, we can talk about them for hours. So, when it comes to the difficulties of life - count on yourself, forget that you have a beloved one, or contact him only as a last resort and in a serious case.

11. To the men, by and large, don't give a damn, in any case, at first, do you feel pleasure in bed. Only very few men can recognize a pretender depicting passion. Not the passion of a woman, but her desire flatters male ego. Many ordinary and stupid women won the hearts of intelligent, beautiful, and not poor men only because they learned this rule clearly. Only having achieved that you love, you can demand caresses that will lift you to the heights of pleasure.

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

13. The ability to make the house beautiful and cozy has not harmed anyone yet. It is pleasant for any husband to come to a house in which order and smells good (in domestic terms, order and smell are almost synonymous).

14. A top-class mistress knows that falling in love with men is far less important than with women. You should not torment a man, forcing him to tell “how much you love me”. Such behavior pushes men to think that women have only romantic sorts of nonsense on their minds, and consequently, they are stupid like geese.

15. Even if a man spree, it’s not worthwhile to “torture him with suspicion”, is still not recognized. Being on the other side of the barricade, that is, being a mistress, you also shouldn’t “place tags”: dab his things with lipstick and irrigate with spirits, scratch his back in a fit of passion. He is not your property.

16. The following rule: never teach a man to live. Morals we all do not love even from school, and many precisely because of morality do not love their parents. You don't want to be like them?

17. The ability to forgive is also the ability not to remind of past mistakes. To forgive is to forget ... or to pretend to forget.

18. The lover of the extra-class knows: all men are obsessed with the idea that they want to use them, pick them up and put them in the world. Nothing scares off in the first days and months of acquaintance as mercantile spirit.

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

20. A top-class mistress knows that to jump up after the first (and subsequent) nights and run to paint herself is silly to wash. Most men like to have mercy in the morning, they like women without fighting colors. And if you hesitate, buy waterproof mascara or make a light tattoo.

21. It is foolish to think that a man who has serious intentions will pause and not call for several weeks. The man who liked you is likely to call within three days, the rest is surely an attempt to use you << at a no-stop >>. It makes no sense to both wait and “conduct” on the proposals that were received in a few weeks, and then it was conducted >> and months.

22. A top-class mistress never complements about her appearance, knowing that most men run away from being clamped and notorious, and not from plump and nonstandard. And even more so do not run away from their partners just because of the size of the breast.

23. If you want EVERYTHING to end quickly:
- squeeze the vaginal muscles;
- change the position so that it becomes “narrower” inside, and the head of the penis during each friction is stimulated by the cervix;
- pay attention to the positions that accelerate the approach of ejaculation:
knee-ulnar in any variations; a woman on her back, with tightly compressed legs (there won't be much difference - they are stretched or raised and bent at chest level); in Hussar - legs lying on their backs, women are thrown over the partner's shoulders; fish - a woman on her stomach with legs straightened and strongly curled, a man - from above;
- take an active position and control the introduction of a member so that you get it: once - until the very end, and two - only a shallow introduction that stimulates the head;
- active oral stimulation - the perfect completion of sexual intercourse;
- if there is not enough lubrication, use gel lubricant - this will speed up the matter;
- whisper a few dirty words to him, maybe this will get you;
- if the pose allows, wrap the base of the penis with two fingers and stimulate it additionally;
- caress yourself, your excitement is a powerful incentive for a man;
- Ask for a rest, and after about thirty minutes, resume caress;
- make movements to meet him, deeply << sitting down >> on the member.
- 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 him slightly and poke around, but do not overdo it;
- do not let him stray from the rhythm;
- cheer beloved loud moans.
24. For a free and confident woman, there are no rules when and where to give a man the first and the next times. If a woman agrees to intimacy on the first evening, it does not follow from this that the husband of the rite will consider her special easy-going behavior. According to statistics, only thirty percent of men are supporters of the gradual development of relationships and courtship.

25. Extra-class mistress will never be ashamed to discuss contraception issues with a man. What is this shameful thing? Yes, to a greater degree protection is your problem, but forcing a man to put on two condoms is also not an option. According to men, if a woman does not agree to have sex without a condom (of course, not at the first meeting, and when the relationship lasts for a while), the man may feel that she is sick with some kind of sexually transmitted disease or suspects that he may be sick himself. Both are not very pleasant to be aware of.
If you do not have money for birth control pills, feel free to ask them to teach your man to buy them. There is nothing shameful in such a request, and the purchase of hormonal contraceptives solves two problems at once: preventing pregnancy and getting full satisfaction from intimacy without a nasty condom.

26. Do not get involved in reading manuals on sexual techniques.
Most of them are not very successful << rehearsal >> << Kama Sutra >> with comments by the anxious author. The advice of foreigners does not suit us at all. What will your tired husband after work say to you if you meet him at the door in latex panties? The effect of the sexual revolution may be reversed - the peasant will flee to the traditionalist who is unshadowed by sex.

27. If you want to extend the pleasure:
- do not let it move too fast;
- relax the vaginal muscles;
- ask him to stop frictions for a while;
- change your position;
- pay attention to the positions that prolong sexual intercourse: a woman on top, a woman lying on her back, legs raised and widely spread, with spoons (woman on her back to the partner's side), sitting facing each other;
- in the midst of extract member from the vagina - and kiss him, only very gently, otherwise it will end even faster;
- ask him to breathe deeply;
- tell about the charms of tantric or Taoist sex. Special (by the way, not too complicated) exercises will help control ejaculation for an arbitrarily long time.
28. The rule of choice of underwear: buy only what your beloved man likes. Beautiful underwear and bedding - a pledge of a strong and long relationship and confidence.
29. The best smell is the smell of your body, plus a drop of good perfume. Men are more often scared away by excessive perfume and the smell of sweat (a nightmare instilled with advertising!) Than the absence of the smell of perfume.
30. Men love sex, they love women who love sex, so is it worth it to be shy and repeat after bad mistresses, and just not very clever women << they just need this ... >>.
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 walk! >>. And here I go. And it was exotic - more than enough.
Few did not seem.
Aeroflot airplanes do not fly to Togo. In Moscow, there is not even an embassy of this lovely African country. Once it was, but closed. I was in transit to Togo, on the way from Ghana to Benin.
Ghanaian taxi driver drove me to the very border. Numerous black hands with thick wads of money immediately pushed into the windows of prehistoric Toyota opened on the occasion of the eternal heat. Street money changers suggested I change Ghanaian cedis, who outside of Ghana are valued lower than toilet paper, into CFA francs acting in the territory of Togo and several neighboring countries.
I refused to exchange, because I spent the entire Ghanaian junk currency, and the dollars in my pocket could well endure until I crossed the border and found myself in the capital of Togo, Lome. Anyway, 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 some Negro and ran towards the state border. Do not think that he wanted to steal it - he just wanted to earn a little. In West Africa, on a white man they want to earn just about everything that he has to face.
Except for the richest, who have already provided their families with the money of 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 - unhindered crossing the border. For only 20,000 cedis (that is, three US dollars) I was promised that I would be able to go through 2 border posts and 2 customs out of turn, without searches, expectations and other problems. I looked ahead. The small gates of the border control point were confronted by a group of black citizens who resembled a clothing market in Luzhniki with numbers and organization. And I, unfortunately, accepted the offer made to me.
Next to the Negro immediately appeared his friend, who was at the same time the best friend of all border and customs outfits of both countries. We really went without any queue. The border guard took my passport and said that all the documents were in order, there was not enough trifles. Small bills - translated best friend.
A paper in denominations of 1 dollar disappeared in his desk drawer and the documents were in perfect order. Even for 1 dollar, the customs officer believed that I should not be inspected.
In the neutral zone, small bucks, alas, ran out. And the big problems started. An old one-eyed soldier blocked the way for me and my companions with a rubber baton. You can go? - I asked. It's hot today - looking with a single eye into the bright blue African sky, a veteran of some African war noticed. I repeated the question.
Ah, a beer would have a drink - the soldier hinted. I looked around to see if they were selling beer nearby. Did not sell. The smallest banknote in my wallet was 500 French francs. With this money in West Africa, you can drink a box of beer a day for a month and the change will remain.
I reasonably decided that the veteran would be too fat. He also reasonably reasoned that such a greedy white should not be allowed on. Others willing to go to Togo calmly passed by the one-eyed, but I stood still and the thirty-five-degree heat inspired me to think that beer would really be very useful. Then one of my companions came to help me: Come on, I will pay him, and you will give him to me on that side. I nodded, the soldier got rich for 1000 CFA francs (or, as they are called in Africa, CIF), the process of crossing the border continued.
The next stage was the Togolese border guard. Have a visa? - He asked. I prudently received the visa at the Togo embassy in Ghana and therefore proudly showed the necessary passport page to the border guard. It made a very negative impression on him. - How much did you pay for it? - He asked.
- 20 thousand CIF.
- The visa is not valid.
- Why?
- Pay another 20 thousand to me, then it will be valid.
This idea did not seem too interesting to me, but then the Negro who accompanied me handed the border guard two pieces of paper of 10 thousand each and dragged me towards the second customs. The green corridor cost another 1,000. And I finally set foot on the land of Togo. I changed a little money, but in the meantime my companions caught a taxi for me. The bag was carefully laid in the trunk, hospitably opened the front door in front of me, and they themselves sat in the back seat.
- Remember, you promised to give me back the money that I paid for your way? You also have to pay for our services. I think $ 300 for two will be fine. dreamily said African.
It seemed to me that either he was joking or I misheard. I did not answer.
- Well, or 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? - спросил я.
- 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.
Poor man! - 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! Dialogue
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.

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...