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Give a bathrobe!
I was 18 years old at that time, and I had my first love. A bit late, of course, but anything happens. My item by the name of Sergey was a very serious and positive person, and he looked after me according to all the rules: he drove to theaters and conservatories, gave flowers to me and sweets to my mother, and so on. And since he had the most matrimonious intentions, we didn’t move beyond kisses for six months of meetings. To me, in the end, this bagpipe was even a little disgusting, but then I did not understand such things well, I thought that maybe it should be so. In addition, I had, and indeed, I have a neighbor, Anton. We are familiar from the cradle, together grew up, in general, childhood friends. Well, this is a saying, a fairy tale ahead. After the specified 6 months of our acquaintance, it took my Sergey to go on vacation to the south. But with the return there were some problems. Sergey lived in Kronstadt, buses do not go there at night. And the train from Sochi arrived at 12 o’clock. And so, the bunny requested to spend the night with me. Well, I think that's it, it happened! My mother, on the occasion of the summer, was also away, so nothing should have prevented the night of love. And so, on the indicated day, I began to prepare according to all the rules. She took a shower, got drunk, mother's spirits doused herself from head to toe. I'm waiting. Doorbell. Something, I think, is too early. And for sure. At the threshold stands neighbor Anton in an embrace with a cat. Both of them look overwhelmed. It turns out that the repair has begun in the neighboring apartment, and they and the cat are allergic to the paint. Ask to spend the night. Very on time, the main thing. But it became a pity where they should go. Let it go. I think the figs with her, with love, will not go anywhere. In general, Anton, while continuing to hold the animal in his arms, begins to tell me that, they say, the rude uncle painters his Manechka (this is a cat) was completely intimidating, she doesn’t climb out from under the closet, she doesn’t want and doesn’t want to do anything. And Manechka, a creature with a fine mental organization, having felt friendly participation, suddenly relaxed. Well, and issued. She didn’t dare to reach the toilet from under her closet. So she dumped on Antosha everything that had accumulated over a long and difficult day. Moreover, the full program. In general, the picture is oil: my Anton is all wet and dirty, like a cesspool and curses at what the light is. Of course, I laugh like crazy. And Manka climbs under the table with a sense of accomplishment. Laughing, I handed Anton detergent and a basin and sent it to the bathroom to soak clothes, and at the same time take a shower. And at this moment, of course, the doorbell rings. I somehow already forgot about Sergey ... But he comes in all tanned, handsome, in white pants and puts me in a hug. I miss you, see. Stormy greetings, kisses, etc. follow. And at that moment the bathroom door opens and Antosha appears on the stage in a towel around the waist and with a replica - Give a dressing gown! In general, a typical scene from a joke on the subject. The husband returns from a business trip. I take my bewitched gaze from Anton, look at Sergey and see a very thoughtful expression in his eyes. I understand that now someone will be beaten. Maybe even me. And I even understand Sergey somewhere. Well, how would you react? After a long separation, you come to a girl in whom you see the future spouse and mother of your children. And there you find some redhead in a towel that requires a bathrobe. Trying to somehow defuse the situation, I squeeze a smile out of myself and speak in the voice of a sweet idiot: - Meet Seryozha, this is my neighbor Anton. This is not to say that this phrase had a calming effect. Stress, they say, shortens life. This story probably took at least a week from all four of its participants (including Manka). She definitely added gray hair to me.
Weekdays Service Center
Dialog. Fictional. - I have a problem with the printer. Repair it. - Details. What about him? - Prints pale. - How long has it begun? - No, recently. I used to print normally. - Did the cartridges use only the original ones? - Of course! I did not change them at all. I took off their lid and added water, everything was fine. Now the pale print has gone ... the printer must have broken ...
The formula of socialism It was a long time ago - under socialism ... One woman saved up money for new furniture. For a long time I was looking for opportunities to buy out of turn, finally I found a seller. There is a bargain. - Your conditions? There is an economic formula of capitalism "commodity-money-commodity". The seller’s answer can be considered the economic formula of socialism: - TWO PRICES AND YOU!
Cap
It was a long time ago, in the year 85. I went camping with a group of friends-tourists. First, they rafted along Indigirka 500 km, then they went to the ridge. Chersky to the hiking part. During the rafting, they lost a very important detail from the primus stove - the burner (this is such a thing in the form of a cap with many holes). The rafting was completed in the small village of Honu - this is the district center of the Momsky region of Yakutia. Of course, we did not find Primus in it - where did he get from there, and it would be undesirable to go to the mountains without it. During a visit to the pharmacy to replenish supplies of medicines and condoms (don’t think bad, but we hid matches in them), the eyes of our supply manager fell on metal contraceptive caps sold at that time. In shape and size - an exact copy of the lost part of the primus, only without holes. Well, making holes is not a problem. Having asked him from the astonished young pharmacist, our supply manager clicked on him with his finger, returned the cap to the girl, saying to her: "It will not work, aluminum, MELT."
Distant cast
It was about a year ago. We decided at a group meeting in the penultimate year of student serving time to go to the forest for two days - pick up daisies, which means eating sandwiches. Well, knowing how these daisies end, I took a fishing rod with me, as I, admittedly, drink little, and don’t know more than half a liter. Yes, and I myself know that such popular bouquets of “champagne-cognac-vodka-moonshine-beer” subsequently arouse in my imagination many different helicopters and a lack of desire to close my eyes at night. And there was such a guy in our group, a klikuha - Red, that is, from birth he was destined to amuse everyone with his love of adventure. He then only returned from Canada, from which, along with his memories of his homeland, he brought with him only a spoon for 30 bucks (to catch pikes, perches and other natural talents). He still boasted in the train that the fish was all of him, because if this fish sees such a stupefied bait, he would consider it an honor to catch it. I, being well acquainted with the area and possessing at the same time a laconic language in such situations, decided not to mention the absence of predatory fish in the planned object of the demonstration of a 30-dollar Canadian spinner. Well, we arrived at the place of deployment, settled down, pulled on a small one, and I decided to go fishing, there toads to catch and so on. My friend Igor and the same Red came with me. I took with me a bottle of Pervak ​​(the stronger one), chicken, black bread and a jar of Olivier, since I’ve been fishing for several years, and I know that fishing is an excuse in such “fish” places, alcohol is a means, and soulful conversation is the goal. Igor and I threw fishing rods and come on for Ukraine, for health, for women, traditionally. Then after the third we notice that someone is missing ... where is Red? We look, we are looking for whether or not to go swimming, they vary with a binge. And he, deciding not to postpone the pleasant for later, went to the dam to run the lure. Well, it means that my friend and I have zero attention to our fishing rods, since ritual preparations for launch are in full swing on the dam. I don’t know why I should clean the spoon with a little spoon, and then spit on it and so on, but the process lasted about five minutes. Here we have already come up with a bet - how far it will fly. I, therefore, say 20 meters, Igor - 25. As we would later calculate, the dick knows him, but excitement is excitement. We look - right now there will be a suit. The scope ... start ... flies ... flies ... flies ... still flies. Yoshkin cat - to the other end of the lake !!! This, honestly, I have not seen in my life! To throw so far. Well, we started to applaud, we praise the Redhead, we’ve already gathered for his health ... and the Redhead on the dam with something inhuman obscene material is spinning! Conclusion: fishing line to the reel must be tied.
Blue harassment
It was in our student being. In the hostel, in the room where we lived with the six of us, in the evening, somehow we were talking about the blue. It turned out that out of six people, the blue drove up to four. These four spoke as if in spirit how the attempts of this indecency took place. The story of the next guy: - I'm standing at the bus stop. A man comes up to me. In a raincoat, hat, such a handsome ... Nobody could listen to him further ...
Something cheaper
It was in the city of Izium (Ukraine). My uncle, having drunk a little with the godfather, decided to go to a local hotel or a hangout for businessmen, it is difficult to determine. (The hotel is beautiful, in the form of a castle, standing on the edge of the mountain, well, the prices, respectively, are beautiful) And inside it was also a store, there were products, as well as products from the Izyumsky Optical and Mechanical Plant - glasses, binoculars, night-time devices visions, etc. And so, my uncle went into this little shop, wandered around it a bit, and then he noticed that the guard of the establishment constantly followed him. (And the uncle looked good, he was a former cop, scarred, his face twisted a little and you could extort money). To the uncle's direct question, the guard timidly mumbled that it was supposed to be his job, etc. The uncle promised to pay more and the guard, apparently believing or frightened, disappeared. And so, an uncle with a godfather came to the counter and started asking the seller about optics, looking at devices (and the seller worked for 2 departments - food and optical) and finally reached night vision devices. Sorted for a long time, the seller probably was already sure that they would buy something, and then it sounded: - Okay, give us something cheaper! The seller joyfully pokes a finger at the device: - This one ?! Uncle, smiling maliciously: - No, give us a bottle of vodka and we will go. The seller was dumbfounded. When leaving the institution they were probably escorted by all the guards.
What month are you, Anechka?
School. High school. I, an excellent student, proudly stomp from the assembly hall, where the results of the next Olympiad were announced. On the stairs, the path is blocked by a benevolently soft carcass of the head teacher. With a sweet smile, Olga Alexandrovna asks: - What month are you, Anechka? I goofy, pale, smoothly precipitate, drop my jaw on the marble floor of my native gymnasium ... I stupidly look at my stomach, which has completely dried up to the spine, and feverishly recall what could give rise to ... - So where? - the head teacher repeatedly asks. Oh Freudians ...
Concrete floor
It was in those days when I was a heroic fighter of no less heroic construction team. We worked in the Arctic, and were engaged in pouring concrete into the floor in the basement of one of the plants under construction. And since we live in Russia, we are building in our own way. First, the workshop was almost completely wiped out - 500 square meters, and then they remembered the floors in the basements. The cellars were not used in any way, since they were frozen through on long polar nights, and therefore the ceilings were 1.5-1.6 meters high. And we are a meter seventy - a meter ninety. So to drag stretchers with concrete about 15 meters in a bent state of joy is not enough. And now, at the end of the day, I see this picture: two unfortunate freshmen are dragging these unfortunate stretchers. And since the day is running out, their strength also ends. They wander in a sinusoid, and the one who is in front, looks, poor fellow, on the floor, and the one that behind wobbles from side to side and yells at him (also nerves, of course, are cocked) - Yes, go left !!! He turns left, and the back yells: - Fuck, I tell you - LEFT !!! He takes it to the left. Him again: - Where are you taking ?! Take a goat to the left !!! And so a few more times. Finally, the front one cannot stand it, and without abandoning the stretcher, it starts yelling too: “And where do you think your mother is carrying ?!” Then the back goes silent for a short while, and then without decreasing the tone it yells: - So it was NECESSARY to RIGHT, and in general WHAT DIFFERENCE !!! Everything around us fell into it, and many did not get up.
Are you selling us red mercury?
It was at the beginning of perestroika, when cooperatives traded clothes, soap, laundry detergent and other rubbish, and mobile phones, e-mails and pagers did not yet appear, so calling from Novosibirsk to our telephone through a long-distance payphone was a separate technological task. Once my friend calls to his parents. Once I dialed the number - silence, two dialed the number - mysterious sounds from the subspace, it all makes me angry, a person slowly begins to boil. The third time I dialed the number - it seemed to have made my way, long beeps went - now they will pick up the phone. But here's a shame - in parallel with the background is a conversation between two "merchants": - Well, so you are selling us red mercury? - Of course, we sell. - Do you have a license? -? “Well, they won’t put us in prison for selling red mercury to us?” But it’s clear, after all, that you don’t need to call back — you’ll spend fifteen dollars, and you shouldn’t talk with the mother “in such a society” of cooperatives. My acquaintance was furious from this chatter and speaks viciously into the phone: - We’ll plant! And immediately shoot! Both merchants immediately dropped the phone.
this is destiny
In the very beginning of the 90s with food, if anyone remembers, it was, to put it mildly, bad. And once we went with my mother to the nearby shops, in order to get food. In one of the shops there were a lot of people - apparently, they brought FOOD. I got up with bags in the corner, and my mother went to get what they brought. I stood very close to the meat department and after a while my attention was attracted by the following picture. One old man was buying meat. The algorithm there was this: a butcher (a very colorful man of about 35) showed the client a piece of meat, if he (in the sense of a piece) arranged a client, the butcher weighs the meat, considers the price, writes it on two pieces of paper - he gives one to the client, puts the second on a piece of meat . A piece of meat selected by the client is laid on a separate table, where several similar pieces with pieces of paper are already lying. The client goes to the cash register (there, of course, there is also a turn), pays and comes back with a check to the butcher, who gives the client meat by check. Why am I describing all this in such detail? You will understand now. The aforementioned old man chose meat for a very long and tedious period ... And then he is wrong, and it is not that way ... in one piece of bones, you see, a lot, in another fat ... About the quality of meat in those days, I think It’s not worth talking - and so it is clear. But the old man, apparently, didn’t understand ... The butcher with a stone face chopped off another piece from the large carcass with an ax, it was clear that he was holding on with difficulty - that’s why you look at the steam from your ears. The likelihood that the next blow of the ax will be inflicted not on the carcass, but on the harmful old man, increased. In the brutalized line, by the way, someone was already starting to express the opinion that this would be a good solution to the problem. And then a miracle happened - the next piece of meat, finally, the old man arranged. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief. The butcher did the above actions - weighed, wrote down the price, gave the old man a piece of paper, set aside the selected piece. The old man trudged toward the box office. He came in about 20 minutes. He gave the butcher a check. The butcher would recognize him right away. A butcher with a check approaches the table on which the selected pieces lie. For a few seconds, he looks at the table, then at the check ... And then he understood EVERYTHING. And here's what happened: for someone, a piece of meat cost exactly the same amount as an old man, this man came earlier and the butcher gave him a piece of the old man by mistake. The butcher with a funeral expression slowly approached the old man waiting for his prey and said: - Father, this is fate. This is fate, father. Moreover, it was fun only for me alone: ​​the people who stood in line before that had already split up, and those who stood now did not see the first act of tragedy. The old man after that turned out to be surprisingly accommodating: without sound, he took another piece for the same price and left. Tired, probably ....
Visit to Irkutsk
In Soviet times, two friends lived in a hostel - one from somewhere near Ryazan, the other from Irkutsk. And throughout the course of their studies, and they were already on course 4, the one that from Irkutsk told - what city he has is beautiful, beautiful, Siberia in general - this is a miracle, Baikal is nearby, and all that. At the same time, he advised a friend from Ryazan, who had never been to the Urals, to go to Irkutsk. He all refused (like: “What I didn’t see in your Irkutsk is so far away,” etc.). But the Siberian kept knocking him to it all the time. And one fine day, when both of them were already approaching the 5th course, a guy from Ryazan got drunk in the trash, and ... remembered Irkutsk. And he really wanted something there (then there was no friend near). He went without hesitation and bought a plane ticket. I must say that at that time a plane ticket was much cheaper, and this was possible for a student to afford. So, he bought a ticket, got on a plane, continued to weld all the way, then gasped ... In general, he flew to Irkutsk in a state of grogging. When he stepped onto the glorious Baikal land, he was not interested in beauty and landscapes - he was terribly troubled (he had so much to drink, and the flight probably affected) After standing, and puking from the bridge to the Angara, he took the ticket back and ... flew off to To Moscow. On the plane, he continued to stir up (it’s hard to be in the air so much). Arrived in Moscow, got to the hostel, fell asleep to sleep. Then until the end of his studies (and probably further) he told everyone about what kind of city ... this Irkutsk, and what to do there is nothing.
Which Minsk?
In the mid-80s, I was on a business trip in Moscow. Along the way, some supply issues brought me to one of the Moscow suburbs in the Kursk direction, where I became a participant in a dialogue, the credibility of which no one ever believed. But he was. I remember every word. Having clarified the necessary questions, I went to the post office, call home in Minsk and consult with my superiors. In the window of the reception of the order sat a feeble lady of 35-40 years old with her head twisted into a white scarf. - Where are we calling? - To Minsk. - Minsk city? - Town. Yes. - Which one? - What, what? - Minsk, which one? “Well, what is he ... A good, so cute town.” - Love my oh! You will be powdering me for a long time, eh? Areas which one? - Ah, areas. Minsk-oh region, aunt, Minsk-oh! She upset me then. But when I brought it to America, to Boston, my neighbor there, an American (of the same aunt's age), on the contrary pleased me. The time was during their "Desert Storm". In a political discussion of this event, I suddenly doubted the intelligence of my interlocutor, who works in a company selling used cars. I asked: - And where, they say, is this very Iraq, with which you are fighting, located? After a pause, he replied: “No, this is definitely not in South America.” After Minsk, I didn’t tell him anything after that. He said that I was from near Moscow.
Serious intentions
In ancient times, the state, represented by OSVOD, took care of the citizens of a great country. On our beach, crosses were placed with lifebuoys crucified on them and visual agitation. Hot Summer. Seeing a friend to the Red Army. Naturally, night swimming. After swimming, rubbing with girlfriends, we are going home, and here we find the absence of one comrade. We come back, remembering him with all sorts of different words and whole expressions. And we fall from laughter. KNEELING beside a cross with a life buoy on which some forgotten swimming trunks were drying, he begged with tears in his eyes: - Girl !!! Well, come with us! Yes, I have the most serious intentions.
Nothing to lose
When I just finished school, I worked as an auxiliary worker in a radio parts warehouse. Our closet from the closet of the storekeepers was separated by two racks, between which stood an embroidered cardboard box from the TV. I and the same clappers were 17-18 years old and we eagerly caught everything that was connected with sex, which, as you know, we did not have then. And once we managed to hear how aunts talk about it (~ 30, 40, 50 years). The elder’s story: - I’m going somehow from the second shift and three milk shafts stop me, about 14-16 years old. Like come on, aunt, undress and lie down, or not ... Well, I think I have nothing to lose, reluctance in the face, I’ll endure it somehow. They are so culturally still bedded. Well, the first one went like that, nothing. But under the second, I was so prettier !!! How I hugged him, dear! His cry came to my senses: "AUNT !!! LET GO !!! I WILL NOT BE MORE !!!" The third refused ...
Cheerful office
I work in a women's team, as it is not surprising, but squabbles are extremely rare. Usually the office is fun, sometimes even too much. Today our managers issued. The girl manager receives a fax, something doesn’t work and she asks the person on the other end of the wire to repeat. Literally: - I already got up, maybe again. After a while, the second manager on the phone explains how to get to us (to the office), with the following words: - ... Go ahead along the Ligovka. Our director laughed at our wild laughter.
Why in Lopotovo?
It was at the height of the Gorbachev era. Who does not remember - the most unpopular decree of Gorbachev was - not to sell alcohol until 2 in the afternoon. We rested in a holiday home under the name "Robinson". The nearest village, Lopotovo, is 4 kilometers from it. In Lopotovo there is a shop and a bus station. We are a company of colleagues - not fools to drink, and their wives, who constantly criticize husbands for this, spy, take away alcohol and so on. On the first evening we drank everything brought with us. The next morning, gloomy men talk among themselves: - By two o’clock we’ll go to Lopotovo ... The wife of one of them heard and asked menacingly: - Why in Lopotovo? The answer follows: - ... Yes ... See the bus schedule. After some time, when sad peasants, having breakfast without appetite, leave the dining room, Volodka runs to them and happily shouts: - Guys! What did I find out !!! Suddenly he notices a flock of wives standing nearby and pricked up their ears, and ends his sentence: - In Lopotovo, the bus schedules from eleven are shown! The wives laughed so much that they could not even be angry.
Beer light
It was at that time when our head of the department (colonel) was still a cadet at the missile school. Somehow in the evening, people wanted to drink beer. Scraped up money, found a messenger - but here's the trouble, there are no dishes. Some gifted head suggested using a ball lamp shade as one. No sooner said than done. On the way for beer, the messenger successfully crossed the fence and ended up outside the school grounds. When he returned, the cadets were horrified to see that he was rushing with a lampshade filled to the brim with beer right to the central checkpoint. Everyone had already mentally sprung up with both beer and a messenger while he was on guard duty. And at the checkpoint at this time such a story takes place. The duty captain, seeing a cadet passing by with such a container and a liquid familiar in appearance, called him up and inquired: “What do you have, comrade cadet?” “Olya, comrade captain.” - Fu fool, get out of here soon, while the head of the school is gone. After this, more suitable glassware appeared for beer, and this case is still recalled.
Polyglot
It was at a time of not very long student life. My friends and I hung out in the hostel after couples - naturally, with beer, managing to play cards and fuss. After traditional topics (football, girls ...), the speech turned to the institute and classes. One guy from our company, Oleg, shuffling the deck, casually said: - And I learned German. Yesterday I watched the film in the original language - I understood everything. We have a stupor. In my head the thought "Damn! Here is a hero, not like us ...". And everything would be fine if Oleg did not continue in full earnest: - Yes, what to understand in German porn films is one "Wah! Wah-a-ah !!! Ooooh! Wah! Wah !!! Wah !!! Ooooooo. .. Das is fantasysth! "
Line for meat
It was at a time when Leonid Ilyich Brezhnev was praised on radio, television, in newspapers, etc., and so intensely that my nephew in the first grade, to the teacher’s question “Who wrote the poem“ What was the name of the great Russian poet Pushkin, ” without hesitation he answered - “Leonid Ilyich.” In those same years in Sevastopol, where the business was going on, the meat in the shops was very bad and the people in the morning wrote in the line on a piece of paper, pressed by a pebble at the entrance. It looked like this: “1. Ivanov 2. Petrova 3. Sidorchuk, etc. "And when they brought the meat, people pulled themselves in and arranged a roll call. And then a man comes up and writes on a piece of paper:" 56. Lenin. "After a while, the next one comes up, reads the last name and, laughing, writes:" 57. Brezhnev. "And number 58 turned out to be an informer, and the brave guys arrived and called 56 and 57. They brought him to the KGB, brought in for questioning and asked for documents from number 56, and he calmly takes out a passport in which the name is black and white in white. it says "Lenin" (his ancient family of Lenins is proud of a surname that is much older than the Ulyanov family, whose offspring took this pseudonym). Hebeshnikov’s faces are pulled out, they are taken under a visor and they take Lenin to the store director with a request to buy Comrade Lenin individually, so as not to discrete to write a great name on a dubious list. ”After such embarrassment, GB cautiously asks number 57:“ Excuse me, what is your last name? ”(Really — Brezhnev, is there a hockey player Brezhnev?) He answers guiltyly:“ Tyutkin. ”“ Ah, Tyutkin! - Hebeshniki screaming with joy, and Tyutkin gets the full program.
17 hours
It was in the memorable times of the mid-eighties. I studied at the institute and once a week we spent the whole day at the military department. And the classes at the military department differed from the others in that it was practically impossible (due to the severity of the subsequent consequences) to leak out. And also because there were not three, but four pairs - a full 8-hour working day. Two couples, lunch break - all as expected. Nevertheless, it sometimes happened that the course of lectures, for various reasons, ended earlier, so that the teacher had two or even four hours left. Then this teacher “in order not to break the reporting” all this time was poisoning us with stories from his serviceman in the past. To release studios from the last hours - never, because "according to the Charter - it is not allowed." If the teacher Ivanov could not take these hours himself, then he asked to replace his teacher Petrov ... The ritual was observed sacredly. But once, a big lump from the Political Directorate arrived at our military department and arranged a general-department officer political education for the entire second half of the day. In view of what, the established orders risked collapse due to the inability of the officers to make a replacement for themselves. The solution was found in the fact that on our cycle we still found one “acting non-officer” - a laboratory assistant by the name of Mashkovsky. All students of all teachers were driven into one classroom, he was shown "senior - Mashkovsky", the officers retired ... Naturally, the laboratory assistant did not have even a hundredth of the glorious past that any of the missing teachers had. Why and announced - "do things, sit quietly, class ends - at 17 o'clock, I - in the next room" and washed off. Four hours of total quiet idleness brought everyone into such a state of frigging that when it was “5 p.m.”, when the alarm clock wound up by someone at that time was beeping “peep-peep-peep” and I said the phrase “spontaneously came to mind” Mashkovsky time - seventeen hours "- the people banged to the ringing in the glasses ...
Tapestry
It was in the early 90's in a small town near Smolensk. Next to the city, the next block of the nuclear power plant was being built and its Poles were building, they are extremely enterprising people, and so they organized the whole Polish market. In those days, shops were distinguished by their originality, in short there was no horseradish in stores, and on the Polish market you could buy everything from nails to “stinger”. One day, my husband's mother asked me to sell a carpet. The carpet was huge and we just went to the market to look for a buyer ... Hoping for our quick wits (we must somehow tell foreigners what they want from them). We did not know only one thing, that the carpet in Polish was CAVIAR. In general, we approach the first pole we liked and ask: - Pan, do you need a carpet? He is joyful to us like this: - Red and black? My husband: - White ... The Pole turned pale, and the husband: - Well, yes, handmade! Several more of his comrades approached the Pole and everyone had a dumb question in their eyes, and my husband: - Vietnamese! There were more Poles and they were trying to understand us with interest, and my husband, angry at their stupidity, already went all out: - On the wall, morons, 3 by 4. The Poles surrounded us with a dense ring and caught every word of my husband, and he, showing fingers the length, he shouted: - Here is such a pile !!! Pure wool!!! The dense ring only asked us from time to time: “Is it pure wool?” White? On the wall? 3 on 4? Handmade? In general, I don’t know when and how it would have ended if I hadn’t remembered the word “TAPESTRIAN”. The ring around us just collapsed! Gogot stood such that no humorist can boast of such a reaction to his speech !!! We went home for a very long time, as we recall the faces of the Slav brothers, it immediately became bad!
Why two dials ?!
It was in the year that way 83-84 in Riga there was an exhibition of promising watch models of all factories of the then USSR - almost an unprecedented sight for our people - the crowd at the entrance is indescribable. I get inside and enjoy the sight of what our industry can produce in the future. Near one of the stands are a sister (12 years old) and a brother (5 years old) look at samples of tourist watches. I explain: on a regular dial with a diameter of 6-7 centimeters, there are two more small dials with a diameter of about a centimeter, you can additionally set the time of two time zones on them, but they show the same question from my sister: - Why two dials ?! Immediate response of the brother: - So two eyes then ...
Soldered
It was in India in the distant eighties. Our small Soviet team helped Indian friends build a new mine. Helped - this means: we built, and they studied in good faith with us. Work was carried out on the sinking of a vertical shaft at the Janjra mine. And there was one Indian engineer at the construction site named Gupta, who, again, very conscientiously taught our great and mighty language. One day this Mr. Gupta comes up to our translator and asks: - Mr. Anatoly, what does the word “solder” mean in Russian? Anatoly, like all of us, at first did not make out the words, and then, as he could, intelligibly gave a short lecture on the process of soldering non-ferrous metals. Gupta listened to all this and said: - No, not that. Mr. Ivanov had just left the trunk and said that the water level in the trunk was EGGS! These were the Russian language lessons in India.
Special Russian mentality
It was in the year of commercials 95-96. In one part, soldiers very often poisoned with brake fluid. No disciplinary action was taken against them. Then one regiment guessed hung up a poster with the following content: “Sodates! Brakes are poison! If it were harmless, then the command would have drunk it long ago.” The following month, not a single case of poisoning was recorded. Here is such a special Russian mentality, you know ...
End of tenderness
In the early 80s, I worked in one of the maternity hospitals in Moscow. And we had a wonderful anesthetist Lesha, young, tall, charming, beautiful. The ladies simply trudged from him. In addition, he possessed an amazing gift to calm and relax a woman during childbirth. Somehow I give birth to a hohlushka of one and a half centners, she screams with good obscenities, she does not listen to me. And I must say, the hohlushek has a sign - the louder during childbirth you scream, the more chances there are to give birth to a boy. She got tired of me shouting to death, I call Lesha - calm down, I say, and the debt is red by payment, I will help you someday. Lesha enters boxing, Madame begins to hypnotize, persuade: - Honey, relax, calm down, no need to shout now. Take my hand ... The lady, without looking, reaches out, gets Lesha between her legs, then she starts another fight, and the hand is impulsively compressed. The bestial roar of Lesha blocked the cries of all women in labor. When I was finally able to unclench Madame’s hand, Lesha got out of boxing for a while, spent a week on sick leave, and after that didn’t even look in my direction. And he never again addressed the women in labor affectionately and gently.
Who did not vote?
It was back in the 96th, the day after the first round of Beni’s election. I study at the glorious OIATE and we have a wonderful (without the slightest irony) teacher of philosophy Petrash Yu. G. But he has his own fad - an old-school communist. And so, Monday is a couple of philosophies. The first question of the respected Yuri Grigoryevich is who voted for the Communists ... one or two hands are raised in the group. There should be a half-hour lecture on how good it was under the Communists and what kind of stuff we are. After the lecture, he inquires - are there among us such irresponsible individuals who did not vote at all. I, as an honest man, raise my hand. What started here! I, in principle, was in good standing with him, but here ... The lecture continued personally in my honor !!! The whole group crawls under the tables ... when the lesson is almost over, one of the guys could not stand it and moaned through laughter: "He is a minor" ... In greater embarrassment, I never saw him ...
Addict in SKLIF
Back in 1993, one young opera from MUR was sent to strengthen SKLIF. At night, at about 4 o’clock in the morning, having heard the sound of a broken window, he ran into the next room and saw a man getting into the window. Later it turned out that drugs were needed. A usual dialogue took place in such cases, with interjections such as garbage, a bad cop and an argument in the form of a water pipe of about 80 centimeters. A man climbed his leg through the transom and sticks forward, and in this position he led the dialogue. The answer to the pipe was a second shot at the legs, which hit the stomach. The freshly shot was removed from the transom on the operating table and two gray-haired old uncles sewed him on a gurney. The opera’s shift was over, he left with gain, having handed over the shot through the shift to his friends. He learned the most interesting from friends. Narkosha moved away from anesthesia, everything was as it should in the left hand dropper, the right handcuff to the gurney. After the tirade about the damned cops, requests began to unfasten his hand. And she numbed at him, and on one side rolled over and smoked, well, for less than an hour or two broke. Ulamal on what he needs to pee. As soon as he was unfastened, the addict immediately got into a fight to escape. Two operas began to twist it. But very carefully - a man from under the knife, a dropper in his hand hangs. Puffed, puffed, twisted,
fastened again.
They sit off, then the surgeon on duty comes in - a man of about 30 years old (old men have changed). He asks what kind of noise it was. Well, they explain to him that yesterday the operated on wanted to run away, but we carefully strapped it on again. I quote the words of the surgeon literally: - At that yesterday's drug addict? Why bother with him, they gave him on the head and on the operating table, I would have killed him right there. After this phrase, before being discharged from SKLIF, the drug addict begged not to unhook him from the wheelchair, he ate and slept. that rhymes too, did everything with a gurney.
Cat in a suitcase
This happened in the relatively recent years, when the first Chechen company had just ended and people of Cop nationality began to be especially interested in Caucasian people. One citizen I knew, actually an Assyrian, born and raised in Ukraine, but who had the same face, moreover, after a long-standing car accident, decorated with a weak scar across his cheek, moved from point A to point B and brought with him a balamutny and shkodly cat - a teenager of black suit. There were a lot of us in his Peugeot, there were plenty of things, and the cat, stuffed into a large suitcase with a hole for ventilation, was loaded into the trunk. Here a brief digression is necessary: ​​the face of the Assyrian-Ukrainian nationality at that time was a free artist, film director and so on. - i.e., a person who is creative and very passionate about mysticism and occultism at that time (now he is a respected Orthodox clergyman - fate often throws creative people to different extremes or to use his current vocabulary: demons do not sleep in temptation). In his behavior, he then and now was distinguished by great restraint, if not gloomy, being very laconic and having a rather heavy look. He wore very extravagant clothes, as it should be for the representatives of the workshop of free artists - like the Finnish national cap with a cut off visor and some kind of pea coat of dark colors. So, having such a driver behind the wheel, we drove into the wheelbarrow, which was packed to the eyeballs, along the way to another artist, taking from him a plastic model of the skull with a jaw on a spring and a couple of thigh (plastic) bones - well, some kind of still life the person needed to write, in a dark-conceptualist manner characteristic of him;), citizens who were not driving and dabbling with drinks, joyfully greeted the appearance of a turtle (and why are young people always so pleased with the appearance of skulls and skeletons?) - having clicked in a spring-loaded jaw, stuck it in teeth in a plastic cup and thrown into the same trunk. Our Peugeot didn’t have time to turn from Ligovka to Marat both at once - operation “whirlwind-antiterror” or “tsunami-anticavkaz” - comrades in body armor, hung with assault rifles, are standing on the corner, and they are already smiling pretty far from afar, seeing far from the blonde behind the wheel good "cars": - Present documents, drugs, weapons, ammunition? - And one already waist-deep in the cabin rummages in the glove compartment and between the seats. The driver creeps out gloomily, holds out documents and says between things: “Why do I need a weapon, I'm a sorcerer, we usually understand differently (well, a person has been locked up in sorcerers recently). Captain with a crooked ironic smile: - Come on, sorcerer, open your trunk. - You are welcome. After opening the trunk, the lieutenant with the sergeant bent there, bounce briskly and one of them even squeals on a high note - this is a red Coca-Cola glass popping out of his skull from his teeth and, flickering in a dim ray of light from a street lamp, silently disappears into dark snowdrifts near the curb. In a couple of minutes, when the machines were put back on the fuse again, and the skull and bones were even defiantly slightly melted by a lighter (Lord, our happiness is that they are dummies - if they were real medicated bones, we would definitely have been proving for a couple of days that we wouldn’t participated in a ritual sacrifice), the lieutenant, a slightly stronger, but still shaking voice, says: “Present in the suitcase.” Even more gloomy driver: - Yes, there is no fig there, except for the black cat ... - and throws back the lid! I will never forget the faces of these cops - a sergeant, with such a Ryazan ryah, so he will even cross ourselves secretly. But they let us go instantly, without asking anything more.
Iron construction
1969 year. My friend and I returned after work on unloading vegetables at the Kiev railway station to a hostel on a trolley bus. A peasant with some iron construction perched in the back seat. Apparently, he already somewhere well received and slightly dozed off. At one of the stops, another not sober man entered the cabin from the front door. From the starting jerk of the trolleybus he was carried around the cabin and he neatly perched right on the knees of the first peasant. They argued for a short time and parted in peace. And the first peasant after the wake up wanted to talk with us. We asked him about the iron structure (a shiny nickel-plated pipe about a meter high with a cross in the base), what is it for? He began revitalizing that they were going to play dominoes in the courtyard in the evenings and this thing would serve to make the domino table. Then the time came for him to go out. He goes down to the bottom step, grabs the trolleybus handrail (he confused it with his design) and tries to tear it off. When this attempt ended unsuccessfully, he begged to us: - Guys, help !!! Of course, we helped him.
Point cracked
Yesterday, a friend walked her baby and grabbed me for company with her. We are sitting on the playground, drinking beer. And Olka (my friend) stares at my glasses intently (my eyesight is poor) and gives out with concern: “Masha, your point cracked !!! I mean a little lens. Knowing this, I reply: “Well, yes, I’ve been talking about two weeks ago, after our last party.” When the meaning of what was said reached us, we scared local grandmothers for about five minutes with our wild rzhach. Like this.
Overshot a little
In ancient bachelor times, I lived with a friend in a graduate student dormitory. One Friday, two classmates came to us to traditionally mark the end of the work week. Well, they noted, they played cards ... Already deep in the night, these two codes quietly faded. We went to look for them, fortunately, there was only one assumption. And for sure. Going down to the second floor we heard powerful blows and deaf words: - Natasha, open! One of us groped in the pitch dark corridor switch. This picture was highlighted. One of the friends was standing against the wall, hanging his head. Another drummed into a fire shield. I missed a bit.
You can not take off
This was at a time of universal medical examination, when at all enterprises and in educational institutions it was mandatory to visit an X-ray room with indispensable fluorography once a year. The mechanism for the mass admission of patients was worked out by doctors to be automatic, therefore they usually visited in X-ray rooms according to the following scheme: man’s day, another woman’s day. About ten people came into the office. While some were stripping to the waist, others were doing x-rays, while still others were getting dressed. That is, a lot of people crowded in the office, and the process was put on the conveyor. On the day the woman was examined, doctors had to be especially careful, since many had chains, pendants and similar jewelry hanging on their necks. Doctors forced all jewelry to be removed so as not to blur the picture of the picture. But since there are no places for storage and there are not always friends who can hold gold and not very trinkets, then savvy doctors came up with another way. When a woman hung with chains became the apparatus, the radiologist forced them to remove the trinkets from the chest and clamp them in the mouth with teeth. Thus, the process was accelerated, and the possibility of theft was excluded. On that day, fluorography of a junior student of the Academy of Arts took place. Reception was conducted by a male radiologist. Ignoring the charms of the naked girls, the tired doctor urged them on to finish the routine work faster. The girls, giggling, squinted at the young doctor and, undressing, quickly dived into the X-ray machine. One of the girls was indecisive, not knowing what to do with the gold chain and pendant. Turning to a more lively friend, she asked if she needed to remove the chain. As sometimes happens in such cases, the noise in the office stopped for a second and the voice of a competent friend sounded in silence. For about ten minutes, the doctors who drove away from laughter could not put their neighing students into the apparatus. Thoughtfully looking at an inexperienced friend, a friend authoritatively declared: “In principle, you can’t take it off, then this man will force you to take it in your mouth.”
Peeping
I was resting with my girlfriend on the banks of the Volga one summer. The water was still cold and we lay on the beach, sunbathing, hiding behind a boat turned upside down. There were almost nobody around us. I took off my bra from my friend and stroked her nipple ... Suddenly a man runs past us and asks me to help him on the run. I jump up and see that another guy fell off a steep cliff, apparently he wanted to see what my girlfriend and I were doing and lost my balance, as I was very drunk. We helped him up, it turned out that he only got off with scratches ...
Voice Unit
It was a long time ago when I, as an exemplary boy, studied in the 6th grade of a Soviet school. Somehow in a literature lesson they called me to a blackboard to read a poem by V. Mayakovsky. I must say that the teacher considered me a slapstick, which was completely untrue. (In evidence, I note that I graduated from school with a medal). So, standing at the blackboard, Mayakovsky’s famous phrase was frightened by my childish mind, frightened by public speaking, into “the voice of a unit is thinner than the LIST ...”. I ask you to believe that I almost fell into place. I was so ashamed that, not knowing what to do, I read the poem to the end, stammering and shining in purple. The children in the class, of course, received a lot of pleasure, and the teacher, of course, put me a triple without diplomatically explaining why ...
At first we doubted ...
In the late 80s, the troops had a fun tradition - once a month to build personnel on the parade ground and read out accidents that occurred during this time in the division. Moreover, not just the facts were cited, but also the explanations of the victims (probably so that others learn from the mistakes of others). The intentions seemed to be good, but the explanations were given verbatim, so all this was obeyed no worse than Zhvanetsky. In general, we were built and a fun five-minute started. The polkach, looking at the sheet, reads out in a commanding voice: “The private soldier got such a jaw fracture ... From the victim’s explanations, he slipped on a bar of soap in the bathhouse. We all - heh heh heh ... we know this piece - there he stands picking his nose. The polkach continues: “The sergeant got a concussion like this ... From the victim’s explanations, he woke up and stretched himself out in the cab of the car, slightly banging his head. We are ha! We guess what kind of cabin it is! Well, at the same pace for a couple of minutes more fun. Then we look - the polkach began to tremble finely, blush his face and swell. But nevertheless, he gathered his strength and issued: - A fifteen-year-old GIRL infected three soldiers with gonorrhea. We were a little cherished by such a phrase, and the polkach, apparently wanting to finish off everyone, continued: - From the explanations of the victims: At first we doubted, but then she treated us to moonshine and we decided that it was not contagious ... It’s a complete fly away! Everyone where they stood there and lay down ... But someone can say that in the army there were only harsh everyday life ...