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Hot Norwegian guys - or why we consider them to be brakes, and they us - crazy. When Volk and I were not married yet, we studied and lived in the north of little Norway and rented a small one-room apartment in a quiet campus, the three-story houses of which were similar to each other both outside and inside, and the layout and furniture in the dwellings were the same We lived in such an apartment for a year and a half, then we left, and a year later we returned again to graduate school, and the good trade union gave us free exactly the same odnushku next to the previous one. Somehow I decided to wash myself. When the laundry in one of the machines in the basement was ready, I discovered that the packages in which I brought it were spioneril; having loaded up - like Piglet with his green ball, because of which nothing is visible - I began to climb up, looking only at my feet and counting the floors, completely forgetting that the ground floor is not the first. Felling to my home, I threw the pile into a chair and saw a loved one wallowing in sneakers (!) On the couch and watching football on TV. Out of indignation, I didn’t have words - actually, we don’t have shoes in our shoes and, even more, don’t watch sports - the only posture I’ve seen for years already is in headphones for a computer that doesn’t cut in RPGs and doesn’t react to which ... I burst into a tirade, walked past him and turned off the TV. Only then I noticed that the TV is not like ours, but most importantly - oh, horror! - it was not a wolf. A Norwegian student looked at me with bulging eyes and did not utter a word while I was pacing around and was loudly indignant in Russian: - D Squeaking, oh, oh, grabbing my underwear from the chair, I fell into a faint half-wrinkle from another's house; folded in half from laughter and awareness of embarrassment, I climbed to the floor above and, sobbing from hiccups, told my beloved what I had done. Reassured, I went downstairs for the second portion of clothes. Carefully counting the floors, but thinking about my own, I firmly and firmly burst into her. Not finding the Wolf in the room, I put the laundry on the table and opened the door to the bathroom. There stood and shaved another man. This was our second neighbor, he drove into our former apartment right after us - I went on autopilot to where we lived a year ago. To say that his eyes became square - to say nothing. Grabbing clothes, I rushed out and out. Was it my fault that the norgi never close the door when they are at home? An hour later our door bell rang. The wolf went to open - my hysterical did not pass. On the threshold were both neighbors. - Listen! - said one of them after mkhatovskogo pause, - is it by chance not your concubine left? In their hands they held my T-shirt and bra. Only my natural dear phlegmatism saved them from reprisal. They did not talk to us until we moved.
Here we are!
To begin with, both of us are quite normal people. That is, both she and I (separately) are reasonably well oriented in real space. But as soon as we go somewhere together on her car ... some virtuality begins right there. Not! This is little said, Surreal will be more accurate. And it has always been so since our very first meeting. I immediately have a desire to wake up, but quickly. And then we are so lost in this surrey ... And we will stay! .. So, it was just the day that it started to buy us sleighs, so to speak, we decided to take a ride in winter. Although this is in itself a joke, here it is in the NRW (pancake, "North" Rhine-Westphalia)! Well, yes, "hunting more than bondage." It is necessary, so go. In order not to look like complete idiots, we decided to limit ourselves to a plastic “second hand”. We agreed with some guy on the phone, dressed in ski suits and went to the nearby village for this crap. Before Würselen (this is the village so called) arrived without problems ... And then it began! “Olya, I’ve already seen this bakery!” I said, when we drove past the pastry shop for the third time, where we were told from the very beginning how and where to go. "Let's get out of here soon!" - she was ashamed, sharply twisting the steering wheel and adding gas. After an hour of wandering, I was pleased to see that already unfamiliar Aborigines began to come across, the old ones finally did go about their business. The opportunity to ask the way without shame has reappeared. But it was bad that they themselves did not know this road, and sometimes they even understood German poorly. And here as the last straw - a dead end. Yes, a dead end is not easy, and a dead end is where 110% should be passing to the next street. My sun already does not notice anything around and wants to cry. And I can not believe my eyes. At the gate, which we rested, screwed a serious such a sign "JORA GmbN" (JSC "Ass")! “Here we are!” - we decided together and hurried home from this enchanted place. Damn, what could be the sled here!
Let go - the gate squeezed!
Moscow is a city of large construction projects and this is good, but anything can happen at the entrances and exits from them. Driving a foreign car on a narrow road next to the construction site. Suddenly, the meeting KAMAZ. Yielding to the road, the foreign car got back to the closing gate, which the car had just entered. We missed KAMAZ, we were going to go further, but could not go. Though the gates stopped, but without damaging the rear "kenguryatnik", it is impossible to leave. Two men got out of the car and went to the checkpoint. And at the checkpoint - cops. "Commander, let go - squeezed the gate." “No problem!” The gates are moving apart, the men are getting into the car, but the bus is about to enter the gate. The car rents back to the yard. The bus pulls in, the gate closes, from the depth of the courtyard a foreign car with two men pulls up to the gate. Go to the checkpoint. At the cops cops. But already others. "Commander, let go - the bus was missed." "And where did you come from here on a regime object? Go to the authorities to write out a pass." From a brief news report: "Yesterday afternoon, the Interior Ministry forces conducted a successful operation to arrest wanted criminals. They were lured into the territory of one of the Interior Ministry units, where they arrested, without firing a shot, seized weapons, drugs and a previously hijacked foreign car."
I was the head of the loss adjustment department in one insurance. The most svolochnaya post, but I coped. One customer flew into his ditch on his Audi. The Fritsevskaya machine was formed almost in half, it cannot be restored - full payment, etc. And you don’t want to pay. In our rules was one foul, but justified point - for every accident should be an act of the traffic police. There is - we pay. No no. Well, and this frame after the night flight and the call of its flyer - a cool shot after all, this very act was not found. He was probably a little ... after the holiday. The refusal is clean, but the person is sorry. I offer him a partial payment, he pretends something and says: “I’ll put up the cross.” -?! - With reflectors. At the very turn. And you say ...
The current that we stand in the smoking room - we smoke, we bang ourselves for life with work colleagues - two friends and a girl. I must say an extraordinary girl, the fourth time married. We stand peacefully, here she quietly so sadly says: "I am divorced again," well, of course, - What is the matter? what happened? All involved on the face. Someone makes fun of storing wedding rings in the chests, or broadcast on the neck in the manner of Papuan necklaces. It is so quiet, again sadly gives out: - And my rings do not roll - they hang on my horns at the entrance to the apartment. I have no more questions ...
Power system topology
Twenty years ago I had a chance to work in the glorious Ministry of Energy of Uzbekistan. The Gadyushnik was one more, although there must have been such, and there always will be and will be everywhere. Once the team leader said that the assistant minister wanted to see me. - Why me? - I ask. “I don't know,” he answered evasively. Why evasively I understood later. In short, the conversation was about such a plan. Kind Assistant Minister expressed how he was concerned about the unusually important problems, the table was covered with some papers, magazines, newspapers. In order to show how busy he is in very important matters, he gave me a good restraint and then began to explain something to me that our ACS department does not reflect the topology of the power system. At that time I was an ordinary programmer - not a team leader - no boss and, of course, not the head of the automated control system in which then 150 people worked. Why did he say all this to Allah alone? But I had to answer, and so that not a single muscle would flinch on my courageous face, and that he would not have any ideas about what I was thinking about him. I myself am actually a mathematician by education and the theory of topology knew a little, but how did he dig up this word? What does he understand in topologists? I asked him very delicately what he means. He said that our ACS does not reflect the matrix of the power system - that he reviewed all the documentation on ACS and we generally do nothing. (What is true is true - but again, what does he understand in the matrices?). I worked in the ACS quite recently, but without batting an eye, I assured him that I had familiarized myself with the work of the department and I had the impression that everything was normal - the department was doing its job, reporting during reports, etc. But he still left a dissatisfied expression on his face. After that, he gave me why he called me. - We have a problem. We have to shut down the power station somewhere in Fergana and therefore dismiss or reduce all employees. But the cleaner, the mother of the heroine (about 10 children), works at this power station and she is also a participant in the war, in general a very honored person, and they cannot fire her by any law. The final question almost knocked me out: - How can our computers and our ACS help solve this problem? I’m kind of a resourceful person and don’t get lost, but now, after 20 years, I can’t come up with any worthy answer. By the way, after that, it became clear to me why from the entire ACS they sent me - recently received - they knew what to expect from the minister and his assistants, but there was no demand from me.
LETTERS TO THE GOVERNMENT.
Hi, my dear Irochka, I decided to roll a few words to you ... you are a busy person, important, you learned to insult in ICQ, but to ask stupid questions ... but I know that you are a good, clever and most importantly _ beautiful girl , therefore, drops in the sea will not disappear ... It is absolutely impossible to communicate with you in ICQ, as soon as you appear on-line, my head begins to spin and a persistent desire to blurt out a couple of swear words ... but, damn, this topic you will hardly be offended, you are already accustomed ... I have no choice but to wait for you look at me ... I, of course, do not demand anything special for myself, serious people are shaking you, and I'm just a poor student from St. Petersburg (by the way, do you know where you can find a leopard skin for upholstery of my Mercia glove compartment?) .... Now I’m busy, session, exams, work, women, bitterness and everything, but in June I’m going to look in Moscow for a couple of days ... to get acquainted with the location of our government and find out some details ... think how you can use this opportunity, maybe you will flash with originality and think of something I’m interesting and fascinating, I’ll tell you right away, I’m a modest man, as a woman you don’t interest me, you probably know why ... I drink because I don’t drink much, or rather don’t drink at all, and I don’t smoke ... although you never know, maybe behaving well, I will allow myself to hold my sleeve and ask how are you, what will I scornfully shake off my jacket and filter: "okay, dear ..." you will squeal with delight, fight hysterically, bite my ear, tear my clothes .... oh, what am I ... damn .... no, everything will be wrong, we are serious adults, we understand where the children jump from They walk, and we know how many stars in the sky ... I will, personally, unbutton your blouse, kiss your neck, take part in your hot breath, beat your heart ..... blah ... again .... sorry , broke .... we will walk, we will eat ice cream .. we will eat, maybe we will acquaint you with your boyfriend, I like to look at the descendants of the orangutan, do you choose such people? true? are you saying he's smart ??? aah, can skip Chopin's waltz ... beautiful ????? even hundred-year-old Aunt Klava stares at him ... everything, everything, I'm sorry, of course ... for you - he is an ideal, a man with a capital letter, an intellectual, a man, a male, your mother .... only one is not enough for him !!! look how he drools when you get out of the shower !!! what is this incomprehensible "Pygvet, how did you get it ??", is it his gentle speech ??? Yes, this is an animal, look better on there, yes, it was he, yes, yes, you, come here, glasses say big? so-so, well, ka take off ... eeee-eee-ey, where did you fall ??? points balance of gravity held? physicist??? then it is clear, take it back, but you see, beast-boy, what is it on your head ?? hair??? I thought it blew up the paint factory, what is it that you jerk there? anvil, set of barn locks for a girl ??? aah, it's fashionable you say, the ear does not hurt? and the tongue ?? oh, better not show, you will scare Gopnik ... well, shurui from here, our Ira needs a really good dumpling, loving, attentive, neat and understanding, she will choose it herself, right? You see, Il, I wrote you a letter, but I have a lot of problems, the session is not handed over, the coursework is burning, the hamster is not feeding the bowl on the grill, it beats, the cat looks unkindly, everyone does not like me, still go to work, to this job! !! she bothered me !!! I want to rest!!! score for everything !!!!!!! you understand me, you understand everything, you are clever, you know how to cross the road ... Everything, Ira, I’ll finish the letter better, or write a really extra ... I want you to think nothing terrible about me, I'm just a boor and an egoist, I think only about myself ... If you have something to tell me, tell me this in any way you know, but first ... first - forget all the mats with spaces and the words "I hate, despise, I will kill, vazezhu, I will bite to death, I will complain to my dad "for" I love the whole, I want ... "this will be the best solution for my psyche ... and for yours too. ... Everything, everything ... I'm leaving, just don't push, all, if anything - write there what they don't write on the fence, and remember, soon I will come to you, maybe ...
Nibbles and splashes
The story is told by a lady - a former emergency doctor, but about her student years ... They passed the practice in a madhouse. Already funny ... But you, as Zadornov says, wait a minute to laugh ... They came, take them to the ward, and there ... There lies something of equal size, both in length and in width, all wearing headdresses ... Paul kind of masculine. “I,” says, “Dusya!” One student calls for herself (that lady - the former doctor, and in those years - just Lena) ... - Do you hear, - he says, - he nibbles? - Yeah, - says Helen, - nibbles! Well what to argue with him? - And splashes! - Yeah, splashes! They still beat him up - an ambal like that ... But curiosity overpowered (she's a doctor or where ?!) and Lenochka asked impudently: - And what's there splashing? The answer was amazing: - I have ... there ... FISH !!! But this is not the finish. Just think, delirium tremens, psychosis ... And it does not happen. Dusya, let the poor students grab for the robes, yell: "Save, help, she will bite me, you are doctors or fiends !!!" How to miss such a reason? And the students decided to help Doucet. But at the same time ... In short, one chela was seconded to the nearest fish store. He dragged from there a healthy hake. In the meantime, Dusya was loaded onto a gurney and taken to the dressing room, since an operating psycho is not allowed. Brought. Loaded. A small digression: who was operated on under local anesthesia, he knows that the surgical field is hidden from the patient’s eyes with a special screen so that he doesn’t have to be cured of a heart attack%) I mean that Dusya did not see any manipulations. They injected him with glucose subcutaneously, covered it with a small screen, held it with the blunt end of a scalpel in the stomach, shook something ... took out a hake. - They say - your fish! He pressed her to him as his beloved wife, he sobs himself - thanks, you are my saviors !!! The students were already twisted with laughter, like the elders with the last stage of arthritis. Dusya happy. But you wait, and that's not the finish! And here - right after the proverb - “The one who laughs last is laughing well” ... Dusya begins to listen to what is happening inside his vast organism, and having heard enough, thoughtfully (Descartes, blah ...) says: - You did not take into account one circumstance ! - and twists his finger. The students were stunned, they even stopped laughing - what is it? Funny breaks? Or are they crazy? Instead of Dusya? - What is the circumstances? - squeeze out. - SHE HAS SUCCESSED TO PLAY !!! - proudly so. The eyes are already reaching the back of the head ... - Wh-what ?! - HER THERE ARE FISHING !!! The sound of falling jaws is heard ... Do you really have to buy a box of sprats ?? !! This is how it is. Do not make fun of psychos - they want someone to do it yourself !!!
The truth is about 60 billion
I remember once in the nineties I was listening to the radio. Announcer: - It is reported from the Ministry of Finance that this year we are waiting for a kind of record, since from the Russian budget at least 60 billion will surely go to sleep ... The announcer stops for some split second. In my head, it quickly rushes: "Have you really decided to tell the truth in such a form?" - ... Written off under the article "unforeseen expenses" - ends the announcer. Not. They did not dare ... Maybe nothing?
Associate professor blunt
From the series "Associate Professor stupid." Passed today by a physician at the eye doctor. Doctor: - How many lines do you see? Associate Professor: - Everything! Doctor: - Read the third below. Associate Professor: - I can not. Doctor: - You said you see. Assistant Professor: - I see the lines, but I cannot read them ... The laughter of those present is hardly contained. Calm bewilderment assistant professor. If I had not watched it myself, I would not have believed it. It seems to be a normal person ...
Oil change in Russian-2.
Then the masters will long understand - who said this careless "always ready." Pavlovich claimed that it was Filipych’s voice. Filipych claimed that he was silent like a fish, and this bastard Kuzmich with his voice mocked them. I must admit that Kuzmich was capable of it. Harmful, he was very. Or maybe “Timur and his team” passed - now you can’t figure it out. Having regarded the phrase as a flick, Palych deftly pulled off the seal from the can of the coolest synthetic oil and inserted it into the oil filler neck. Oil sank down suspiciously quickly. The habitual cry: "Your mother ..." - announced the vicinity of the workshop. No, in itself the set of phrases was Palych familiar to the toothache, and he himself spoke out on this topic more than once, so there was nothing special about the fact of the cry and one could not pay any attention to it. But there were some gurgling notes in this shout, and so he, just in case, threw a glance under the car. And there was the following. Filipych, who only adjusted the scrap to squeeze the lever, suddenly felt that something sticky and smelly was flowing over his head, he involuntarily jerked his head - but a jet of oil struck his eyes. Filipych went blind for a few seconds and, in search of a way out of the pit, grabbed a crowbar, which in turn knocked down an old jack. Since the wheels were turned out and the handbrake, naturally, did not work, the car flew off the jack and pecked into the pit. Palych swiftly darted into the pit to save his friend. Tavriya, meanwhile, fell deeper and deeper into the pit, peeling off the paint of the right wing on its edges. After a minute, a bystander could observe such a picture. Two locksmiths posing as Atlantes, standing ankle-deep in the tub with oil, were holding the face of the brand. This oil painting was completed by the actual oil, which continued to pour on the poor fellows' heads. There was a threatening silence in the air. And in this silence Kuzmich's female official voice sounded especially distinctly and loudly: “Moscow time. Twenty hours. And in Petropavlovsk-Kamch Astskom it's midnight at all ...”. - It's lying, what the fuck is midnight. Everything, finder - change is over, let's go home - Filipych spoke. - A che, let's go, - approved Palych. - Who will go first? “I will go,” Filipych grumbled under the weight of the machine, “I came 15 minutes earlier to work to get you to work — I was the first to go.” - No, you think - what are we now, until the morning so stand? - Until the morning, still not sdyuzhim, it's time to dump On the count of three, they with one jerk leaped into the light of day. Tavriya, having already completely ripped the front wing against the walls, dug even deeper into the pit. The military council was short, but productive. The meeting parties were generally unanimous. The car from the pit must be pulled out. The discrepancies were in the details. Either first pull out, then drink vodka from grief, or vice versa. The opinion won that they are in execution and in general people are extremely responsible, therefore, first tear the car out of the pit with the help of an electric hoist. Palych quickly put his hooks on the engine eyelets, and Filipych began to push the side of the car away from the pit wall, well, so as not to tear the wing completely to holes. The steel hoist cables of the hoist tense like a string - and Tavria got stuck in this damn trap. Filipych of his last strength pushed the side of the car away from the edge of the pit, but this had almost no effect. He made the last desperate dash, but did not make a correction for the fact that his shoes were soaked with oil and slipping his face over the wing, he blurted out on the ground. To his surprise, Filipych's fall was accompanied by an eerie crash and metalic crash. Raising his head, he witnessed a surrealistic picture. Having gone deep into the pit, Tavriya was reclining, or rather her body part. Above it, a motor-mounted engine assembled with a gearbox rocked on the cables of a hoist. Those few details that connected it to the body, smoothly, as in slow motion movies, fell to the bottom of the oily pit. It was particularly entertaining to see how the needles of the tripods of internal CV joints and other details of this rare for today’s foreign cars crumble. Palych took off his cap, took a deep breath, and said: “So they changed the oil pan ...” From the shelf of the cabinet, Kuzmich solemnly said: “The village workers, tirelessly, day and night are preparing the equipment for working in the fields. ... ". - Do, you bastard! He is also crushed! And with these words Filipych threw a key at 32 into Kuzmich. Kuzmich choked and fell silent. The confusion of the poor fellows was short-lived. What is there, not even from such troubles got out. Before the client joins another 12 hours, you can even assemble another car. It would be from what. That's what, and with spare parts the guys had no problems. There are so many of them at the pantry lying around, it’s a cesspool, it's a central warehouse. In general, an hour later the car was already on wheels and even with a replaced ball. The client requested - done. Another hour spent an audit of the broken-down parts and their availability in the "central warehouse". The main problems touched scattered needles trehshipovikov. But they were quickly resolved. Found about a dozen nails that fit in diameter, cut off their caps and trimmed along the length. Where bent - straightened, where crushed - knocked, where broke - podvarili. Yes, even the engine mount pillows had to be delivered those that were removed from the same brand a couple of months ago. Kuzmich, in his own way, commented on what was happening, he then sang "But we do not care ...", then "We are not firemen not carpenters ..." and in general "You can not be beautiful like that ...". The latter probably belonged to the broken-down Tavria. Anyway, by three in the morning everything was outwardly brought into the "as it was" state, the only exception was a ragged wing and there were mere trifles - oil, antifreeze and the actual process of handing over the work to the client. We agreed that tomorrow they would come to work early and went home. In the morning, Pavlovich bought a jar of oil, a plain five mineral of a local spill and a can of antifreeze cheaper. At eight in the morning he had already poured all this chemistry into the engine, and in the meantime Filipych was late. Then Palych remembered that the client asked to change the timing belt. Yesterday they completely forgot about him in this fuss - he decided. Palych quickly removed the belt from the pulleys - and was surprised to find that he was in very good condition. He took a replacement belt out of the trunk, and he made sure that he was still nothing. It was necessary to make a difficult choice between them. For five seconds in Palych there was a difficult struggle between conscience and greed. Conscience, as always, gave way - and the belt from the trunk took its place under the hood, and the new belt moved into the bottomless pockets of the Palych overalls. For a complete order, the remnants of cheap mineral water were poured into a synthetic jar and put into the trunk. Kuzmich for some reason sang: "Our service is both dangerous and difficult." Pavlovich squinted on the shelf with Kuzmich and, taking a torn strap from the "central warehouse", threw it into the trunk of Tavria. Absolutely mechanically, Palych slapped the rear door lid - and saw a bunch of all the keys safely inserted in the boot lock. "Mother, peremat ... And we were here like a fly on the glass fiddling without the ignition key. And where is he ...". To celebrate, Palych opened the driver's door with a key and spun the starter. To his great surprise, the engine started and worked pretty well. Palych drowned out the engine, found a big rag and threw it on the ragged wing. Rag lay like they do in proprietary services, so as not to slap it with dirty hands. Everything was ready for the client meeting. It remained only to make a smart face and bend over the motor when it appears. It did not take long to wait. Sidorov, who arrived at exactly the appointed hour, found Palycha, who was waving lovingly wiping the glass of his car with a clean rag. The whole view of Palych betrayed in him calm confidence well and to the conscience of the mastered master. He directly admired his work and the last touch of this work was slightly dusty glass. Seeing Sidorov, he directly blossomed in a very broad smile. “Well, your Mercedes is in perfect order.” Yes, I had to puff on the order with your car ... Kuzmich inserted his three kopecks from the cabinet: "Hello friend. Now I will tell you a fairy tale ...". - Is that so bad? - Sidorov got worried - Well, you yourself saw the ball - but the timing belt was changed very just in time, it even broke completely when it was removed, so consider yourself lucky. And look. With these words, Palych extracted a set of engine pads broken in the trash. - How did you go to them - I will not put my mind to it! I had to put new ones. More precisely, the lower ones are completely new, and the side one - sorry, is slightly watered. The motor is washed, the oil changed - well, you have 100 bucks! - Are you Palych - fear god. For changing the oil 100 bucks? - Why only oil? Pillows wave - this is, consider, the engine had to be removed. Well, ok - 75 and only as a regular customer. Sidorov realized that there would be no more loosening - and paid with a sigh. From the loudspeaker came the "Field of Miracles in the Land of Fools." - Yes, dear! - continued Palych. Oil that you brought, often fake. Specifically about what you have, you cannot say anything now - but if you feel that something is wrong - quickly change to something else ... - So the oil is expensive and firm ... - Sidorov began. - What do you think that someone will forge cheap? - cut out Palych. - Well, come on, with God. Making sure that Sidorov went to the driver's door, Palych toreadorsky movement brushed a rag from the disfigured wing and slammed the hood. Sidorov pulled the door handle and Palych turned cold - the door was closed again. “Damn, this door is making a fool again,” Sidorov hissed. - Palych, and where are the keys? - In the ignition lock - Palych mumbled. Sidorov again cursed and began to go around the car, heading for the right door. In the blink of an eye, Palych took scissors from the suit and, shouting “Stop. I will open it,” with a sharp stroke, drove the scissors into the larva of the door lock and turned it. The door was already open - and Sidorov only then managed to say: - Pavlovich - why the hell did you break the lock for me ?! I already have one broken ... The right door, I’m not closing on the lock ... Palych did not know what to answer. He mumbled only "Who knew, I'm sorry ...". Kuzmich stood up for him. In Chernomyrdin’s voice, he thoughtfully said, “We wanted the best, but it turned out as always.” Sidorov just shook his head, got into the car and began to turn around. Tavriya, creaking and bubbling with all mechanisms, moved out of boxing. The process of running in its parts was clearly audible. But with each turn of the wheel, the parts fell into place - and the car went beyond the workshop. Picture 2. Criminal realistic. Sidorov was already out of the morning schedule, and so he flew into the little parking lot in front of the gate. The roar that was issued by his car made the signal of the jeep standing to his right to work. Sidorov did not pay due attention to this fact and quickly ran to the beginning of the list for the waybill. Oh, in vain, he ignored Signalku. Kolyan-Podolsky and Vovan-Moskovsky, two very specific bro, were kind of relaxed in beer and kebab when they heard the sound of the signaling. They lazily went to the car - and the first thing they saw was the torn-up board of Tavria. Following his simple logic, the sight of a beaten Zaporozhets led them to associations about the presence of the second participant in an accident, a six-hundredth Mercedes. However, Mercedes was not there and, in the absence of this, they began to study the left side of their jeep. After a brief search, a suitable small scratch was found on the left wing. - Bro see how this goat wing disfigured us! But we were driving this soldier's cart to Kolyan - and we were too late for an important shooter because of him, and it seems you still didn’t have time to take the wife from the maternity hospital ... - What other wife ?! Oh yeah - just didn’t pick it up, but didn’t manage to deliver it in time - and she had to give birth right there in the back seat ... But for this version it was necessary to urgently find a pregnant aunt and immediately make her give birth. What was impossible to do at this particular moment. That is, to find an aunt, make her pregnant and make them give birth, of course, they could - but right now and this is all at the same time, it was an obvious overkill. But at least 200 tanks were in the air and it remains only to wait for this goat. This "goat" did not take long to wait and ran out of the way to his Tavria. Already approaching the car, he felt the unkind look of two healthy old brothers, who were obviously waiting for someone. As they approached the car, their eyes became more and more fixed, and when Sidorov approached the driver’s door of his car, the ego called out. - Hey, goat! Look how you crumpled your wing! Sidorov looked around. There were obviously no other goats besides him. - Who? I?! - With the hope of a negative answer, he asked - Yes, you, who else ... Walking bumblebee syudy ... Sidorov walked around Tavria and Vovan, taking him by the collar, nudged him with a scratch on the side of the jeep. - Yes, you hit someone, Kozlin manorilaya? !! - Kolyan hissed on him. - Yes, man, you hit ... - Guys, I couldn’t - yes, she’s high ... - So you jumped up on a hummock on purpose. We even signalka worked from such a blow. “Yes guys, this cannot be in principle,” Sidorov defended weakly. - And in general, then there should be a scratch on Tavria too ... Kolyan's sleeve jerked Sidorov over to face Tavri: - What is this, do you think? And here Sidorov for the first time saw the peeled board of his car. - Aah ... Ak ... And how is it? - only could squeeze out Sidorov. - How are you? - hissed Kolyan. - What are you, in nature to clarify? - Specifically, the man you got - echoed Vovan. - Do you have an apartment? At Sidorov everything swam before my eyes. He remembered exactly how he had approached the parking lot and that the jeep was already standing. But he didn’t remember how he ran off on the jeep’s wing. However, with each movement of his body in the hands of Vova, his memory behaved somewhat peculiar. Five minutes later, he vaguely recalled, and after ten he could clearly tell how he was "pure in his patsanski style, flew in kind into the wing of a peacefully parked jeep ...". It was logical to ask about damages. Then Kolyan looked around and, jabbing his thick finger in the direction of Palych's workshop, he said: - Let's evaluate it in that little shabby ... What will they do for what? And already to Sidorov: - Immediately pay off - and fly a bird. Sidorov kicked the car to the ego and rushed towards the auto repair shop. Handing over the backside, the jeep demolished some kind of urn and almost trampled a couple of grandmothers who inadvertently found themselves in his way. - In, now I would have hung a couple of stars on the wing, - said Vovan with some annoyance. The fact is that Kolyan neatly marked the jeep wing with a stylized image of a grandmother with a stick. Apparently imitating the pilots who, during the war, marked downed aircraft with stars on the sides. Under the escort of a jeep caravan moved to the repair boxes. Palich's mood was excellent. So easily he did not expect to get rid of Sidorov. Filipych still was not - and this meant that they most likely would share only 50 bucks. However, the idyllic mood of Palych lasted only about half an hour. Instead of the expected Filipych, there was a characteristic sound of a small car and Palych looked at the sight of Tavria, but clearly a gangster jeep was driving behind it. Palich's mood immediately fell below the sewer. “They will be beaten” - Palych realized. "Blah! Who knew that Sidorov had such a roof?" Giving a tear was too late, and nowhere. In the meantime, Sidorov jabbed the car with its starboard to the wall. However, to his left, sweeping away the fence, a jeep of brothers had parked right next to him. Sidorov was locked in his car and therefore could not participate at the initial stage of the negotiations of the high parties. Vova and Kolyan called Palych: - Hey, commander! Look at the wing! - Why look at him? That I did not see the wings, - Palych muttered somewhere in the direction. - Commander - you see how many attendants will be done? - all trying to grab the attention Palycha, pushing Kolyan. However, here Palych heard the voice of Sidorov, who, lowering the glass, yelled: - Palych - even though you confirm - the same dent has been in two weeks already !!! Such a turn brought some confusion into the scenario with the fights, which Palych had already drawn for himself. The case took an unexpected turn, and Palych, in order to gain time, approached Tavria and began to study the damage, as if he had seen them for the first time. Gang ohrenel from such arrogance. - Commander, you are not a breeze rides! I ask you about the grandmother. And you stared at this garbage ... With these words, Palych, like an ostrich, stuck his head under the wing of Tavria and was feverishly trying to figure out what was going on. But there was something to think about. On the one hand, the lads obviously straining for money, and on the other, hysterical, Sidorov begs Plecha to confirm that the wing was dented a week ago. From such heavy thoughts Palych from under Tavria did not want to crawl out at all. But there was nowhere else to pull further. Palych decided. It seems that all the same they will have to pay - and he crawled out from under the brand and, looking into the distance, said: - Well ... 50 bucks. - What is 50? !! - all were amazed by the choir. - Well, it is ... well, I say tanks for 50 pulls Kolyan grunted, took out a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket and gave Palych to him. Palych began to crawl along the wall of boxing. В Таврии бился Сидоров и молил: - Палыч, я тебе еще 50 дам - только скажи, что все так еще вчера было Но Колян быстро просек поляну и отправил Вована наводить должный порядок в просветлевших было мозгах Сидорова, а сам взял находящегося в трансе Палыча под руку и повел его к джипу, нашептывая ему по дороге: - Понимаешь, этот хорек нам крыло помял, ты оцени ремонт нашего крыла бач ков в 300 - и ты честно свой полтинник заработал. Просек? Тут до Палыча стал доходить расклад. "Шустряк оказался этот Сидоров - не успел от нас уехать, уже джип боднул". Тут Палыча, наконец, ткнули носом в царапину на крыле. Надо заметить, что джип у братков был капитально раздолбан. И царапин и вмятин на нем было предостаточно. Поэтому указанная царапина на крыле совсем не выделялась на общем фоне. Наконец, и Сидоров был извлечен из заточения и после потрясающего по задушевности разговора с Вованом, снова стал тихим и виноватым. Только в глазах читался призыв о помощи, обращенный к Палычу. Однако Палыч уже пришел в себя, и хотя еще не все понимал, но пятьдесят баксов, врученных ему Коляном, очень эффективно действовали на его сознание. Уже по-деловому и без страусиных манер, Палыч обследовал крыло джипа и подчеркнуто авторитетно объявил приговор Сидорову. - При всем уважении к тебе Виктор, к твоей супруге и любовнице, меньше 300 баксов не получается Палычу было, конечно, стыдно за этот спектакль. У него даже закралась крамольная мысль, что надо будет тот полтан, что от братков получен, с Сидоровым потом в баре просадить за пивом. Братки оживились и начали наезжать на Сидорова. - Смотри, козел, что тебе командир говорит. Триста баксов на месте - или мы забираем твою помойку и ставим на бабки. "А за козла ответишь", - донеслось со шкафа. Это Кузьмич встрял в беседу. Но голос, голос то был чисто Палыча. Палыч от такой подставы аж позеленел. "Все, сегодня же в лом сдам эту электрическую рухлядь" - решил он. Братки тем временем удивленно-угрожающе оглянулись. - Это не я, - пролепетал Палыч. - А кто? Конь в кожаном пальто? - надвигались на него братки. Кузьмич, видимо, почувствовал свой близкий конец и громко заверещал: "Это говорю вам я...". Далее прозвучала фамилия известного олигарха. При упоминании этой фамилии братки встали по стойке смирно. - Да, они ответят, - торжественно пообещал Колян, выразительно бросая взгляды то на Сидорова, то на Палыча... Кузьмич продолжал выкручиваться: "Мы передавали интервью известного бизнесмена общественно-политической программе "ИТОГО". Братки уважительно перекрестились и обернулись к Сидорову. - Слышь, чё папа говорит - отвечать вам надо. Бабки давай! Сидоров отрешенно поглядел в потолок, потом вздохнул и произнес: - Ну что делать, раз так - надо платить И с этими словами достал из наружного карамана куртки толстенную пачку стодоллоровых купюр. От в да денег у братков округлились глаза и показалось, что цепи на их шеях сразу потяжелели раз в десять, так как они подались под их весом вперед и вниз к пачке баксов. - Эй, браток - а ты это, часом кроликов не разводишь? с некоторой опаской спросил Колян. - Нет, я инженер-ремонтник, - мрачно отвечал Сидоров. - Ну и слава богу, - повеселел Колян. - Тогда с тебя еще 50 бачков за оценку. - Да ради бога, - спокойно отпарировал Сидоров. - Только у меня одни сотки... - А я тебе сдачи полташек верну, - с готовностью отозвался Вован. Сделка была немедленно завершена, прямо на изумленных глазах Палыча. И джип рванул с места, снося на своем пути всяческие оградки, заборы и разметая газоны и кусты, унося в себе конкретных пацанов. В боксе повисла неловкая тишина. У Палыча с чувством совести было все в порядке точнее, можно сказать, что не было ее вовсе. Но все же тут был явный перебор, и явившаяся ранее крамольная мысль не давала покоя. Как-то даже неожиданно для себя он произнес: - Слушай, Виктор, вот тот бандитский полтинник - возьми его... - Спасибо, Палыч... Но это лишнее. Я и так на этих кретинах полтинник заработал... - Это как?!! - изумился Палыч. - Да видишь ли - баксы-то фальшивые... Я же наладчиком копировального оборудования работаю. Так вот недавно нам какую-то крутую аппаратину притащили, так я пока ее налаживал, зеленого президента в него вложил - так он их знаешь сколько мне наштамповал. При этих словах рука Палыча непроизвольно потянулась к карману, в котором лежал полтинник, которым сегодня утром расплатился Сидоров. Сидоров так же уже понял, что брякнул что-то не то. И поспешил заверить Палыча, что у него самая настоящая денежка. И что он бы никогда и ни за что не осмелился использовать левые купюры, если бы не этот несправедливый наезд представителей уголовного мира. Но Палыч успокоился только тогда, когда Сидоров поменял ему утреннюю купюру на бандитскую. И, чтобы уйти от скользкой темы, обратил внимание Палыча на помятое крыло Таврии. Тут уже Палыч решил играть игру до конца и перешел в наступление: - Ну показывай, чем ты джип забодал - Да никого я не трогал, - взмолился Сидоров. - Значит, наверное, это братки тебя зацепили - а потом решили все на тебя свалить... Таких случаев просто море. Сидоров был обезоружен: - Я думал, это вы мне её приложили, - неуверенно пролепетал он. - Понимаешь, приехал я на работу, поднялся наверх, ну минут 15 там был выхожу, и крыла как не было. А эти тут рядом стоят - вот идиотов развелось на дорогах - Да друг. Не повезло тебе. Менять крыло-то придется. - Ну и чего это все встанет? - Да за работу в 100 правильных с покраской уложимся. Ну а крыло и краска твои. - Да, дела, - загрустил Сидоров. А я, было, решил, что это вы мне ее огуляли... Тут как черт из табакерки, откуда не возьмись, на работу явился Филипыч. Конец фразы он слышал и решил сразу включиться в базар. - Да ты что, друг?!! Ты подумай, как мы могли ее огулять, если у нас ключей не было... И вообще, еще вчера все... Но фразу он не успел закончить, поскольку в ту часть, что пониже спины, явно уперся предмет, похожий на ключ на 36, удерживаемый твердой рукой Палы ча... Филипыч осекся - но слово не воробей. И Сидоров после повисшей паузы спросил: - А чего вчера?! Палыч быстро всзял себя в руки и затахтел: - Да вчера твои ключи случайно наш мастер, Овчинников, собой домой унес в комбинезоне. Постирать он его, видишь ли, решил. А мне, будь он не ладен, пришлось к нему с утра домой ехать. Не, друган - ты мозгом-то пошевели. Ты вчерась сам на яму машину поставил? - Ну, поставил - согласился Сидоров. - С утра машину с ямы забрал? - Ну, забрал. - Так вот - клянусь - машина с ямы не съезжала. Что было истинной правдой. Сидоров задумался и, глянув в честные глаза Палыча, произнес: - Ладно, вечером привезу крыло и краску. Сделаете? - Конечно, сделаем, - хором откликнулись мастера. И Сидоров рванул зарабатывать на крыло и краску... Оптимистический эпилог. Только машина скрылась за углом, Палыча прорвало: - Филипыч, адвакат хренов!!! Если ты еще пасть при клиенте откроешь - все, удавлю!!! Филипыч уже понял, что влез не вовремя и, выслушав, эмоциональное выступление Палыча, молча с улыбкой вытащил из ящика новый масляный фильтр, который он вчера так и не ввернул в Таврию. Палыч так же улыбнулся и достал ремень ГРМ из кармана. Тут на них напал приступ смеха. И сколько бы это продолжалось неизвестно, но в воротах бокса неожиданно возникла старенькая чадящая и чихающая тойота. Мотор явно был не в порядка и водила, вылезая из салона, наткнулся на вопрос Филипыча: - Мотор 1600? - Да, - еще не понимая к чему это, ответил клиет. - 94 на 19 - куда-то в даль сказал Филипыч. Палычу не надо было объяснять, что это параметры ремня ГРМ двигателя этой тойоты, а то что это размеры ремня, который лежал у него в кармане, он и так знал. - Ну мужик - ты не первый у нас с таким дефектом, - уверенно сказал он. - С час все сделаем, дело в ремне, заезжай... Заодно и масло поменяем!
Не только русская баба коня на скаку...
Однажды, в начале 80-х, был в общаге имени Мориса Тореза неописуемый случ ай. Четыре словачки, вполне обычного телосложения, затосковав вдали от родины, решили выпить посреди белого дня. Ну бывает, ну это жизнь. Невозможно теперь уже выяснить, по какому поводу и сколько именно они выпили до начала основных событий. Но это было: а) явно немало; б) не суть важно. Гораздо важнее было то, что они пошли на улицу. Не хватало им приключений для полного куража, понимаете ли. Вы что думаете - только у русских душа просит праздника? Отнюдь! Путь разудалых словацких девушек пролег, по несчастью, мимо овощного магазина. Кстати, все помнят, что девушек было не пятнадцать, а лишь ч етыре? И что они вовсе не были олимпийскими призерами ни по метанию молота, ни даже по плаванью? Ну так вот, проходя мимо "Овощей-Фруктов", у девчат слетела Нет, не шляпа. Крыша! И вы сейчас в этом убедитесь. Ибо перед магазином стоял такой решетчатый контейнер на колесах - всякий, кто в те годы ходил в овощные магазины, поймет, о чем я говорю. В таких контейнерах небритые грузчики вывозили в торговый зал овощефруктовую продукцию, и граждане радостно в ней ковырялись, выиискивая то, что не успело до конца сгнить на овощной базе. Но в описываемом случае контейнер стоял на улице и был полон арбузов, а продавец только что ушел на обед, замкнув загончик с арбузами на замок, дабы избежать усушки и раструски товара за время своего отсутствия. Субтильные сестры братского народа узрели арбузы и возжелали их. Здесь, так сказать, и сейчас. Будучи в сильноприподнятом настроении, они не особенно расстроились, увидев отсутствие продавца и замок на контейнере. Они дружно взялись, и: хамски укатили контейнер. Из овощного магазина это, надо полагать, просто не заметили, а у проходящих мимо граждан и своих хлопот хватало, особенно в те годы. Поэтому до общаги контейнер докатился беспрепятственно (да и было это недалеко), и вот там-то в полный рост наступил апофеоз. Все помнят, сколько было девушек, и что они ничего особенного из себя не представляли? Good. Так вот, эти обычные пьяные словачки, воспользовавшись отбеганием пожилой вахтерши со служебного поста на пять минут по весьма уважительной причине, затолкали контейнер с арбузами в общежитие, а потом, собравшись с силами, заволокли это сооружение по лестнице на второй этаж. Закатить контейнер к себе в комнату у них не получилось - дверь была узковата. Но девушки не смутились. Отметив удачную операцию остатками спиртного, они шпилькой (!) открыли замок и дорвались до арбузов. Я не буду рассказывать о том, чего не знаю. Например, какое лицо было у продавца овощного магазина, когда он обнаружил-таки усушку и раструску своих арбузов, да еще в столь фатальных масштабах. А вот то, что было после вызова милиции, мне известно. Путь воришек был легко вычислен, ибо все же не каждый день четыре девушки катят по улице контейнер с арбузами. И хотя вахтерша начисто отрицала факт проникновения арбузов на вверенную ей территорию, но проживание описанных ей девиц подтвердила, и сообщила номер комнаты, перед которой и был обнаружен контейнер с арбузами, а в самой комнате за столом спали девушки, успев перед тем, как их сморила усталость, взрезать только один-единственный трофейный арбуз. Так вот, любопытные могут прикинуть, сколько весил контейнер с арбузами. Скажу лишь, что милиция, надрываясь и матерясь, спустила контейнер на первый этаж и вернула похищенное по назначению, в доступных и понятных выражениях наказав завмагу как следует взгреть продавца, который не удосужился привязать контейнер к чему-либо тяжеловорующемуся. Впоследствии один из милиционеров, сойдясь в процессе разбора сего проишествия с одной из расхитительниц социалистической собственности, женился на ней; он уехал с женой в Братиславу, а потом в Прагу, где и рассказал мне об истории знакомства с супругой, которая ужасно смущалась и краснела на протяжении всего рассказа.
In the very center of Europe lies the state which is the largest of all other European states. There is the fattest land for growing technical hemp, there are different natural resources, there are gorgeous mountains and seas. There is everything except oil, but oil there can be extracted directly from the pipes that lie on this earth here and there. In general, not the land, but paradise. Many wanted to own this territory, and many got pussies because of it. The barbarians otpidd of the Greeks, the Lithuanians - the Tatars, the Poles - the Turks, the Russians - the Germans. As a result, this promised land was acquired - Khokhlov. Like this. Looking at this incident, many nations still remain incomprehensible. Transcarpathia had been Hungarian all their lives, Carpathians - Austrian, Polesie - Polish, Bukovina - Romanian, North - Lithuanian, South - Turkish, Crimea - Tatar, Donbass - Russian, Kiev - common, and now it's all hohlyatsky! And dick you priebёshsya that the most interesting. How did this historical paradox happen? The answer is - thanks to the innate Hohlyak Buddhism. To begin, let's answer, where did this extraordinary people come from, who managed as a result of all to throw through the dick? According to legend, when the first crest was born, all the Jews wept. And, as history has shown, the Jews wept knowingly. It looks very good-natured Ukrainians. They are good-natured and inside. They pose a direct threat exclusively to pigs for which they are natural enemies. Ukrainians do not attack anyone themselves, because to puss out your neighbor is not good. However, if the neighbor asks someone to otpizdit, then the Ukrainians also can not refuse him, because to refuse the neighbor - this is also not good. Thus, Ukrainians pizdili Tatars with Russians, Poles with Tatars, Russians with Poles. Swedes with Russians and Russians with Swedes. Together with the Turks, pussies were Russians and Poles, and then with Russians and Poles - Turks. Pizdili even the Italians, along with the Austrians and Iraqis with the Americans. Periodically, the Ukrainians themselves received pussies, and then they made incomprehensible eyes and thought “well, what is it for me?”, After which the pussies of the Jews, and those, of course, cried. (The Jews otbrebali as direct competitors.) But in general, this people are quiet and humane. The main commandment of the Ukrainians is << my hut on the edge >>. Even they called their state their name - Ukraine. That is, “we all want, do not touch us, for God's sake, sort it out yourself, you fucking ass”. The main life principle of the Ukrainians is multi-vector. Or, to make it clearer - << and eat fish, and fuck you >>. The main dream of Ukrainians is to let the dumplings jump into their mouths themselves. And do not laugh. Considering how Ukrainians gained their independence, this dream does not seem so unreal. Ukrainians are real Buddhists, skillfully disguised as Orthodox (by the way, there are four Orthodox dioceses in Ukraine to choose from). The favorite color of the Ukrainians is orange, the color of the Dalai Lama's uniform. And since the Great Buddha said: “Life is suffering,” it was the suffering of the Ukrainians that made the basis of their world perception. They are sure that their entire history has twitched their national, social and religious oppression. That is why Taras Shevchenko, the most injured of the competent Ukrainians, was recognized as the main Khokhlyak poet. (He suffered for having finished his work. He wrote about the tsar-father a dirty poem and answered for the bazaar). As true Buddhists, the Ukrainians preach non-resistance to evil, and a large bolt is driven into it. And so they still do not give the status of veterans to fighters from the UPA. To know how to violate the national essence. Aggressive crest is not a crest. Buddhist principles make us, Ukrainians, invulnerable to the blows of fate. Us these blows just fuck. We know that everything will pass, so it makes no sense to steam. As one hohlyatsky song goes: << Zinut our vorozhenka, like dew on the sun. Zaparang ¬ mi, brother, at his side >>. That is, our enemies, sooner or later, will disappear somewhere, not eternal, and then we will command on our land. Hooey, is it difficult for us to wait? We are Buddhists.