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Norwegian apartments
Hot Norwegian guys - or why we consider them brakes, and they are us - crazy. When Volk and I were not yet married, we studied together and lived in the north of small Norway and rented a small one-room apartment in a quiet campus, the three-story houses were similar to each other both outside and inside, and the layout and furniture in the dwellings were Are the same. We lived in such a flat for a year and a half, then left, and a year later we returned to the graduate school, and the good trade union gave us free at that time exactly the same odnushku next to the previous one. Once I decided to wash. When the linen in one of the machines in the basement was ready, I found that the packages in which I brought it were spooned; Loaded - like Piglet with its green ball, because of which nothing is visible - I began to climb up, looking only at my feet and counting floors, completely forgetting that the ground floor - this is not the first. I plunged into my house and dropped the pile on the armchair and saw my beloved, lying in the sneakers (!) On the couch watching football on TV. From the indignation, I had no words - in fact, we do not have shoes in our shoes, and, moreover, do not watch sports - the only pose I've seen for years in the headset is in the headphones behind a computer that cuts into an RPG and does not react On what ... I burst out into tirade, walked past him and turned off the TV. Only then I noticed that the TV does not look like ours, but most importantly - about the horror! - it was not the Wolf. The Norwegian student looked at me with bulging eyes and did not say a word while I was walking around and loudly resented in Russian: - D I squeaked, muttering oh, grabbing my clothes from the armchair, I fell out of a strange hut in a half-unconscious state; Having formed in half from laughter and awareness of embarrassment, I climbed to the floor above and, sobbing with hiccups, told my beloved what I had done. Having calmed down, I went downstairs for the second portion of clothes. Carefully recounting the floors, but thinking about his, I firmly and resolutely fell into his own. 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. It was our second neighbor, he drove into our former apartment right after us - I on autopilot came to where we lived a year ago. To say that his eyes are square - it's nothing to say. Grabbing my clothes, I rushed out and from there. Was it my fault that the Norms never shut the door when they are at home? An hour later our doorbell rang. The wolf went to open - my hysteria did not go away. At the door stood both neighbors. - Listen! - said one of them after the Mkhaut's pause, - it's not by chance your neighbor left? In the hands they held my t-shirt and bra. Only the natural phlegmatism of my dear saved them from reprisals. They did not talk to us until we moved.
Here we are!
To begin with, we are both normal people. That is, she and I (individually) are fairly tolerably oriented in real space. But if we go somewhere together on her car ... then some sort of virtuality begins. No! This is weakly said, SURR reality will be more accurate. And this has always been the case since our very first meeting. I immediately have a desire to wake up, but quickly. And then we are so in this surreem and get lost ... And stay! .. So, it was combed to us just now sledge buy, so to say to go in winter decided. Although this is in itself an anecdote, here in NRW (pancake, "North" Rhein-Westphalia)! Well, yes, "hunting is more than bondage". We must, so let's go. In order not to look like complete idiots, we decided to limit ourselves to the plastic "second hand". We agreed with some guy on the phone, got dressed in ski suits and drove to the nearby village for this crap. Up to Wurselen (this is the village so called) we 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 explained in great detail how and where to go from the very beginning. "Let's get out of here soon!" - she was ashamed, sharply turning the wheel and adding gas. After an hour of wandering, I noted with satisfaction that the strangers had already come across strangers, the old ones finally left for their own business. Again the opportunity arose to ask the way without being ashamed. But it was bad that they themselves did not know this road, and sometimes even in German they did not understand well. And then as the last drop - a dead end. Yes it is not easy deadlock, but a dead end where 110% should be the passage to the next street. My sun already does not notice anything and wants to cry. And I can not believe my eyes. At the gates in which we rested, a serious sign such as "JORA GmbN" (JSC "Zhopa") is screwed! "Here we are!" We decided together and hurried home from this enchanted place. Damn, what can there be a sledge!
Let go - locked the gate!
Moscow is a city of large construction projects, and this is good, but when you enter and exit from it, anything can happen. I drove a foreign car along a narrow road near the construction site. Suddenly at the KAMAZ meeting. Giving way, the foreign car passed to the closing gate, to which the car had just stopped. They missed KAMAZ, they were going to go further, but they can not go. The gate, although stopped, but without damaging the rear "kenguryatnik", you can not leave. Two men got out of the car and went to the checkpoint. And at the checkpoint - cops. "Commander, let go - locked in with the gate." "No problem!" The gates push apart, the men get into the car, but the bus is already going to enter the gate. The car backs into the yard. The bus leaves, the gates close, from the depths of the courtyard to the gate drive up a foreign car with two men. They go to the checkpoint. At the checkpoint cops. But already others. "Commander, let out - the bus was missing." "And where did you come from here on the regime facility? Go to the authorities to write out the pass." From a brief news report: "Yesterday afternoon, the MVD forces conducted a successful operation to detain wanted criminals and they were lured to the territory of one of the MVD units where they arrested, without a single shot, arms and drugs and a previously stolen foreign car were seized during the arrest."
Partial payment
I was the head of the loss adjustment department in one insurance company. The most svoechnaya post, but I consulted. One client flew in on his Audi in a ditch. Fritsev's machine was almost in half, it can not be repaired - a full payment, etc. But you do not want to pay. In our rules there was one boring, but justified point - for every accident there must be an act from the traffic police. Is - we pay. No no. Well, and this shot after the night flight and calling its flying - a steep shot after all, this act itself was not. Probably, he was slightly ... after the holiday. The refusal is pure, but a person is pitiful. I offer him a partial payment, he thinks something and says: "Just put the cross on." -?!? - With the cataphores. At the very same turn. And you say ...
Wedding rings
The current that we stand in the smoking room - we smoke, we rub for the life with colleagues at work - two friends and a girl. I must say the girl is not ordinary, the fourth time married. We stand peacefully, here she silently so sadly says: "I will divorce again", well, all, of course, - What's the matter? what happened? Everybody has a face. Someone is making fun about storing the wedding rings in chests, or on the neck in the manner of the necklaces of the Papuans. She is so quiet, again sadly gives out: - And my rings do not roll - they are at my entrance to the apartment on the horns hang. I have no more questions ...
Power System Topology
Twenty years ago I worked in the glorious Ministry of Energy of Uzbekistan. Gadyushnik was one even though such certainly was full and is and will be everywhere. Somehow the head of the group said that the assistant minister wanted to see me. "Why me?" - I ask. "I do not know," he answered evasively. Why did I understand evasively later. In short, the conversation was about such a plan. The view of the assistant minister expressed how concerned he was with extremely important problems, the table was covered with some papers, magazines, newspapers. To show how he is busy with very important matters, he gave me a good excerpt and then began to expound something like that our ACS department does not reflect the topology of the power system. I was at that time an ordinary programmer - not the head of the group - no boss, and certainly not the head of the ACS in which then 150 people worked. Why he told all this to Allah alone knows. But I had to answer and so that no muscle fluttered on my manly face and that he would not have any ideas about what I think of him. I myself was a mathematician by education and the theory of topology knew a little but where did he get this word? What does he understand in topology? I asked him very delicately what he meant. He said that our automated control system does not reflect the matrix of the power system - that he looked through all the documentation on the automated control system and we do not do anything in general. (What is true is true - but again what does he understand in the matrices?). I worked in the ACS recently, but without blinking an eye I assured him that I had read the work of the department and I had the impression that everything is fine - the department copes with the work, issues reports during the time, etc. But still he Left an unsatisfied expression on his face. After that, he gave me why he called me. - We have a problem. We must shut down the power plant somewhere in Fergana and consequently dismiss or cut down all employees. But there is a cleaning woman working at this power station - the mother of a heroine (10 children) and whether she is still a war participant, in general a very well-deserved person, and according to some laws they can not fire her. The final question nearly knocked me out: - How can our computers and our automated control systems solve this problem? I'm a kind of resourceful person and I'm not particularly lost, but now after 20 years I can not think of any worthy answer. By the way, after that I understood why from all the ACS they sent me - recently received - they knew what to expect from the minister and his assistants, and from me there is no demand.
LETTER TO THE IROCHKA.
Hello, my dear Irochka, decided to roll you a few words ... you are a busy man, important, in ICQ only insulted learned, but stupid questions to ask ... but I know that you are good, smart and most importantly _a beautiful girl , Therefore, drops in the sea will not be lost ... It's impossible to communicate with you in ICQ, as soon as you appear on-line, my head starts to spin and there appears a desire to blurt out a couple of obscene words ... but, damn, such a topic You are hardly offended, you are already used to ... I have nothing left to do but wait until you pay attention to me ... I certainly do not demand anything special to me, you are already shaking serious people, and I'm just shaking Only a poor St. Petersburg student (by the way, do you know where to find the leopard skin for upholstering the glove compartment of my Merc?) .... Now I'm busy, session, exams, work, women, gulp and everything, but in June I'm going to look for a couple of days To Moscow ... to get acquainted with the location of our government and find out some details ... think about how you can use this opportunity, perhaps you'll show off with originality and come up with something interesting and exciting, I'll just say, I'm humble as a woman I do not care, you know why ... I drink because I'm little, I do not drink at all, and I do not smoke ... although it's not enough, maybe if you behave well, I'll let you hold your sleeve and ask how things are, on That I will scornfully peel off my jacket and filter it: "OK, dear ..." you will be squealing with delight, beating in hysterics, biting me by the ear, tearing my clothes on me .... oh, that's me ... damn .. No, everything will be wrong, we are serious adults, we understand where the children jump from, and we know how many stars there are in the sky ... I'll personally, unbutton my blouse, kiss your neck, express your hot breath, Beating your heart ..... blah ... again .... sorry, broke .... walk, ice cream eat .. eat, maybe with his boyfriend, I love to look at the descendants of orangutan, you do choose these? true? Are you saying he's smart ??? Aaa, can skip the waltz of Chopin ... beautiful ????? Even a hundred-year-old Aunt Klava is looking at him ... everything, all, 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 .... he only has one little !!! You see how it drools when you get out of the shower !!! What is this inarticulate "Pgvet, how did you breathe?", This is his tender speech ??? Yes this is an animal, look better at that one, yes it is he, yes, yes, you, come here, do you speak big glasses? So, with, well, take off ... eee-eee-yay, where fell ?? Glasses balance of gravity held? physicist??? Then it's clear, take it back, but you see, beast-boy, what's that on your head ?? hair??? But I thought the paint factory blew up, what is it you have there strumming? An anvil, a set of barn locks for a girl ??? Aah, it's fashionable to say, the ear does not hurt? And the tongue? Oh, you better not show it, you're gonna scare the gopnik ... Okay, take it from here, our Ira needs a really good dumpling, loving, attentive, accurate and understanding, she'll choose him, right? You see Ir, I wrote a letter to you, and after all, I have a lot of problems, the session has not been handed over, the coursework burns, the hamster does not feed a bowl on the bars, the cat does not look well, everyone does not like me, I still have to go to work, to work! !! She was boring me !!! I want to rest!!! Score on everything !!!!!!! You understand everything, you understand everything, you're smart, you know how to cross the road ... Everything, Ira, I'll finish the letter better, or really write something superfluous ... I want you not to think anything so terrible about me, I'm just a boor and selfish, I think only about myself ... If you have anything to say to me, tell me this in any way known to you, but first ... first - kill all the mats with spaces and the words "I hate, I despise, I will kill, zarezhu, bite to death, I'll complain to my dad "I love" whole, I want ... "it will be the best decision for my psyche ... and for yours too .... All-all ... I'm leaving, just do not push , Everything, if that - write there what is not written on the fence, and remember, I'll come to you soon, maybe ...
Gnaws and splashes
The story was told by a lady - a former ambulance doctor, but about her student years ... They went through practice in a madhouse. It's already funny ... But you, as Zadornov says, wait to laugh ... They come, start them in the ward, and there ... There is something of equal size both in length and width, all in tattoos ... Sex Like a man's. "I am," she says, "Dusya!" Calls to itself one student (the same lady - a former doctor, and in those years - just Lenochka) ... - Do you hear, - he says, - gnawing? - Aha, - answers Lenochka, - gnaws! Well, what's the use of arguing with him? - And splashes! - Yeah, splashing! Another will be beaten - an ambal such ... But curiosity overpowered (the doctor she or where ?!) and Helen cheekily asked: - And what splashes? The answer was amazing: - I have ... there ... FISH !!! But it's not finish yet. Think, the white fever, psychosis ... And it does not happen. Dusya, let the students of poor people grab for their coats, yell: "Save, help, she'll bite me, you're doctors or monsters !!!" How to miss such an occasion? And the students decided to help Dusse. And at the same time ... In short, seconded a brow to the nearest fish store. He brought from there a healthy hake. Meanwhile, Dusya was loaded onto a gurney and taken to the dressing room, since the operating room was not allowed to sleep. Have brought. Have unloaded. A small digression: who operated under local anesthesia, he knows that the operating field from the eyes of the patient is hidden by a special screen, so that he still had no need to treat a heart attack%) I mean, Dusya did not see any manipulation. They injected glucose to it subcutaneously, closed it with a screen, ran a blunt end of the scalpel on the stomach, joked something ... they get a hake. - Here - they say - your fish! He loved her like his wife, he cried to himself, thank you, you are my saviors! The students were already crouched with laughter, as the elders with the last stage of arthritis. Dusya is happy. But you wait, and it's not finish yet! And then - right on the proverb - "He laughs best who laughs last" ... Dusya begins to listen to what is happening inside his immense organism, and having heard plenty, thoughtfully (Descartes, blah ...) says: - You did not take into account one circumstance !! - And twists his finger. The students were stunned, even stopped laughing - what is it? The joke breaks? Or they have gone mad? Instead of Dusi? "What's the matter?" - squeeze out. - SHE SUCCESSED TO MARK !!! - Proudly so. The eyes are already reaching the back of the head ... - W-what ?! - HER FISHING THERE! A knock of falling jaws is heard ... Is it really necessary to buy a sprat box ?? !! Here and so. Do not prick over the psychos - they themselves whom they want to prikolyut!
The truth about 60 billion.
I remember listening to the radio somehow in the nineties. Announcer: - It is reported from the Ministry of Finance that this year we are waiting for a kind of record, because from the Russian budget, no less than 60 billion will be sure to sleep ... The announcer freezes for a split second. In my head swiftly rushes: "Really dared to tell the truth in such a form?" - ... Written off under the article "unforeseen expenses" - the announcer ends. No. Did not dare ... Maybe in vain?
Associate professor of stupid
From the series "assistant professor of stupid." Today passed physical examination from the oculist. The doctor: - How many lines can you see? Assistant Professor: - That's all! Doctor: - Read the third bottom. Assistant Professor: - I can not. The doctor: - You said you can see. Associate Professor: - I see the lines, but I can not read them ... Hardly suppressed laughter of those present. Quiet bewilderment of the senior lecturer. If I did not watch it myself, I would not have believed it. It seems to be a normal person ...
Change of oil in Russian-2.
Then the masters will understand for a long time - who said this careless "always ready." Palych assured that it was Filipovich's voice. Filipych also claimed that he was silent as a fish, and this scoundrel Kuzmich mocked them with his voice. I must admit that Kuzmich was capable of this. He was very harmful. And maybe "Timur and his team" was transferred - now you can not make out. Evaluating the phrase as a signal, Palych deftly pulled the seal off the can of the coolest synthetic oil and inserted it into the oil filler neck. The oil sank down suspiciously fast. A habitual cry: "Your mother ..." - announced the neighborhood of the workshop. No, in itself a set of phrases was a sign to Palych to the toothache and he himself repeatedly spoke on this topic, so that in the very fact of the cry there was nothing special and it could not be ignored. But in this scream there were some gurgling notes and that's why he, just in case, looked at 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 stream of oil hit him in the eyes. Filipich for a few seconds went blind and in search of an exit from the pit grabbed a scrap, which in turn knocked down the old jack. As the wheels were turned out and the handbrake, of course, did not work, the car flew off the jack and pecked into the pit. Palych rushed headlong into the pit to save his friend. Tavria, meanwhile, fell deeper into the pit, ripping off the paint on the right wing about its edge. A minute later, an outside observer could observe such a picture. Two locksmiths pretending to be Atlantes, standing on an ankle in a lohan with oil, kept the muzzle of Tavria. This oil painting was completed by oil proper, which continued to pour on the heads of the poor fellow. There was a threatening silence in the air. And in this silence, the female official voice of Kuzmich sounded especially clearly and loudly: "Moscow time, twenty hours, and in Petropavlovsk-Kamchatka at all midnight ...". "It's a lie, what a fuck it's at midnight." All of them, the change is over, we went home, "Filipich said. - And Che, let's go, - approved Palych. - Who will go first? "I'll go," Filipich groaned under the weight of the car. "Today I came to work 15 minutes earlier than you came to work - I'm the first to go." - No, you think - what do we do now, till the morning so stand? - Until the morning, still not sdyuzhim, it's time to dump On account of three, they threw a single yelp in the light of God. Tavria, already fully wiped the front wing against the wall, burrowed deeper into the pit. The military council was short, but productive. The parties to the meeting were unanimous in their main point. The car from the pit must be pulled out. Divergences were in the details. Either at first pull out, then drink vodka with grief, or vice versa. The opinion was won that they are at performance and in general people are extremely responsible, therefore first to tear the machine out of the pit with the help of an electric hoist. Palych quickly put the hooks behind the engine's eyes, and Filipych began to push the side of the car away from the pit wall, so as not to rip the wing completely to the holes. The steel cables of the telfer stretched like a string - and Tavria was stuck in this fucking trap. Filipchik pushed the side of the car away from the edge of the pit with the latest strength, but this almost did not work. He made the last desperate jerk, but did not make an amendment to the fact that his boots were soaked in oil and slid his face across the wing, he blurted out about the ground. Surprisingly, Filipych's fall was accompanied by a terrible crack and a metal crash. Raising his head, he witnessed a surreal picture. Deeply zarvivshis sideways into the pit, reclining Tavria, more precisely its body part. Above her, on the hoist ropes, the engine, torn from the meat, was swaying, complete with the gearbox. Those few details that connected it with the body, smoothly, as in slow motion pictures, fell to the bottom of the oiled pit. Particularly amusing was to observe how the needles of the tripods of internal SHRUSs and other details of this rare for the present times foreign cars crumble. Palych took off his cap, took a deep breath and said: "So the oilman changed ..." Kuzmich solemnly proclaimed from the shelf of the cabinet: "The workers of the village are working hard, preparing day and night machines for working in the fields." The work on replacing lubricants ... ". - Uh, you bastard! He's also being bullied! And with these words Filipych threw a key into Kuzmich's room. Kuzmich choked and fell silent. The confusion of the poor fellows was short-lived. What's there, still not out of such a mess got out. Before the arrival of the client more than 12 hours, you can generally collect another car. It would be out of what. Here with what, and with spare parts at children there were no problems. There are as many of them lying around the pantry, it's a garbage, it's a central warehouse. In general, an hour later the car was already on wheels and even with a replaced ball. The client asked - done. In an hour, an audit of the discarded parts and their presence in the "central warehouse" was carried out. The main problems were the scattered needles of the three-shawks. But they were quickly resolved. We found a dozen nails that fit the diameter, cut off their hats and cut them in length. Where it bent - straightened, where it crumpled - knocked, where it tore - cooked. Yes, even the engine mount cushions had to be delivered to those that had been removed from Tavria a couple of months ago. Kuzmich in his own way commented on what is happening, he then sang "And we do not care ...", then "We are not stokers ..." and in general "You can not be beautiful like that ...". The last, probably, related to the ripped-out Tavria. Anyway, by three in the morning everything was externally brought to a state of "as it was", the only exception was a peeled wing and there were mere trifles - oil, antifreeze and the actual process of putting the work to the client. We agreed that tomorrow they will come to work early and go home. In the morning, Palych bought a jar of oil, a simple mineral five of a local spill and a canister 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 for something. Then Palych remembered that the client had requested to change the timing belt. Yesterday in this fuss about him completely forgotten - he decided. Palych quickly removed the belt from the pulleys - and was surprised to find that he was in very good condition. Taking out the strap from the trunk for a replacement, he was convinced that the same is 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 a thirst for profit. Conscience, as always, lost - and the strap from the trunk took its place under the hood, and the new belt moved to the bottomless pockets of the overalls of Palych. For the full order in the bank from synthetics were poured the remains of cheap mineral water and put in the trunk. Kuzmich for some reason sang: "Our service is both dangerous and difficult." Palych squinted at the shelf with Kuzmich and, taking from the "central warehouse" some torn strap, threw it into the trunk of Tavria. Completely mechanically, Palych slammed the tailgate cover - and saw a bunch of all keys safely inserted in the luggage compartment lock. "Mother, fuck ... And we're like a fly on the glass fidgeting without the ignition key." And he eka where ... ". For joy, Palych opened the driver's door with his key and twirled the starter. To his great surprise, the engine wound up and worked pretty well. Palych drowned out the engine, found a large rag and threw it on the torn wing. The rag was lying as it does in branded services, so that it should not be stained with dirty hands. Everything was ready for the meeting of the client. It remained only to make a clever face and bend over the motor when it appeared. I did not have to wait long. Arriving exactly at the appointed hour Sidorov found Palych, lovingly wiping the glass of his car with a clean cloth. The whole view of Palych gave out in him a calm confidence well and on the conscience of the labored master. He directly admired his work and the last stroke of this work was slightly dusted glass. At the sight of Sidorov, he blossomed in a broad smile. "Well, your Mercedes is in perfect order." Yes, I had to puff in order with your car ... From the cabinet Kuzmich put in his three pennies: "Hello my friend. Now I'll tell you a story ...". "Is it that bad?" - Sidorov was worried. Well, you saw the ball yourself - but the timing belt changed very early, it even broke completely when you were removed, so, consider that you were lucky. And look. With these words, Palych retrieved a set of engine ripped into the trash. - As you went to them - I can not imagine! I had to put new ones. More precisely, the bottom is completely new, and the lateral one - I'm sorry - slightly shoddy. The motor is washed, the oil is changed - in general, with you 100 bucks! - You that Palych - beware of God. For the change of oil 100 bucks? "Why only for butter?" Pillows to give up - it's the same, consider, the motor had to be removed. Okay - 75 and only as a regular customer. Sidorov realized that there would be no more indulgence - and with a sigh he paid. From the loudspeaker came the "Field of miracles in the country of fools." - Yes, dear! Continued Palych. Oil is what you brought, often forged. Specifically about what you have, nothing to say now is impossible - but if you feel that something is wrong - quickly change to another ... - So the oil is expensive and branded ... - Sidorov began. - Do you think that someone will forge a cheap one? - Cut off Palych. - Come on, with God. Making sure that Sidorov went to the driver's door, Palych tore off a rag from the wrecked wings with a toreador's movement and slammed the hood. Sidorov jerked the handle of the door and Palych chilled - the door was again closed. "Damn, this door is fooling again," Sidorov hissed. "Palych, where are the keys?" - In the ignition lock - mumbled Palych. Sidorov again cursed and began to walk around the car, heading for the right door. In the twinkling of an eye, Palych pulled out the scissors from the jumpsuit and, with a shout, "Stop, I'll open the Wait" with a sharp blow, hammered the scissors into the door lock larva and turned it. The door was already open - and Sidorov only had time to say: - Palych - and what for you broke my castle to me ?! I already have one broken one ... The right door does not close to me at the castle ... Palych did not know what to say. I only waved "Who knew, I'm sorry ...". Kuzmich stood up for him. With Chernomyrdin's voice, he said thoughtfully: "We wanted better, but it turned out as always." Sidorov only shook his head, got into the car and began to turn around. Tavria, creaking and bubbling all mechanisms, moved out of the box. It was clearly heard the process of running-in of its parts. But with each turn of the wheel the parts fell into place - and the car retired beyond the scope of the workshop. Picture 2. Criminal-realistic. Sidorov already got out of the morning schedule and therefore flew into the small parking lot in front of the gate. The roar that his car issued made the signal of the jeep standing to his right work. Sidorov did not pay proper attention to this fact and quickly ran to the top leadership behind the road list. Oh, in vain he ignored the signal. Kolyan-Podilsky and Vovan-Moscow, two very specific brothers, in kind, relaxed with beer and shish kebab when they heard the sound of a signal. They walked lazily toward the car - and the first thing they saw was the ripped side of Tavria. Following his simple logic, the sight of a battered Cossack led them to associations about the presence of the second participant in the accident, the six hundredth Mercedes. However, Mercedes was not near, and for want of it they began to study the left side of their jeep. After a short search, a suitable small scratch was found on the left wing. - Bro, look how this goat wrecked our wings! And we went to sell this battle carriage - Kolyan - and we still missed an important shooter because of him and, it seems, you did not have time to take the wife from the hospital yet ... - What other wife ?! Oh yes - just do not pick up, but did not have time to bring it - and she had to give birth right here in the back seat ... But for this version it was necessary to find a pregnant aunt urgently and immediately to force her to give birth. What was impossible at that particular moment. That is, to find an aunt, make her pregnant and force them to give birth, of course, could - but right now, and this all at once, it was an obvious bust. But at least 200 tanks were in the air and it only remained to wait for this goat. This "goat" did not take long to wait and ran out of the passage to his Tavria. Already approaching the car, he felt the unkind look of two healthy brothers who were obviously waiting for someone. As they approached the car, their gazes became more and more steadfast, and when Sidorov approached the driver's door of his car, the ego called. "Listen, you goat!" Look how you crushed our wing! Sidorov looked around. There were no other goats, except him, next to him. "Who?" I?! - with a hope for a negative answer he asked - Yes you, who else ... Go bumblebee syudy ... Sidorov went around Tavriya and Vovan, taking him by the collar, poked his nose in a scratch on the wing of the jeep. - Yes, you're on someone, a goat little manorelaya? !! - Kolyan hissed at him. - Yes, you fell a man ... - Guys, yes, I could not - yes, it is high ... - So you started jumping on the hummock specially. At us even the signal has worked from such blow. "Yes, guys, there can not be such a thing in principle," Sidorov said weakly. "And in general, then there should be a scratch on Tavria ..." Kolyan, with a jerk, jerked Sidorov to face Tavri: "What do you think this is?" And then Sidorov saw for the first time the ragged side of his car. - Aah ... Ak ... And how is it? - only managed to squeeze out Sidorov. - How are you? - hissed Kolyan. "What, in kind, to clarify?" "Specifically, you fell a man," Vovan echoed him. "Do you have an apartment?" At Sidorov, everything swam before my eyes. He remembered exactly how he drove up to the parking lot and that the jeep was already standing. Alas, he did not remember how to jump on the wing of the jeep with a run. However, with each movement of his body in Vovan's hands, his memory behaved somewhat peculiarly. Five minutes later he already vaguely recalled, and ten o'clock could clearly tell how he was "clean in a patsan manner, in nature flew into the wing of a peacefully parked jeep ...". Logically, the issue of compensation for damage. Then Kolyan looked around and, sticking a thick finger in the direction of the workshop of Palych, uttered: "Let's evaluate it in that sharashka ... Will they do anything for what?" And already to Sidorov: - Immediately pay off - and fly a bird. Sidorov kicked to the car's ego and jerked toward the auto repair shop. Handing back, the jeep carried some sort of urn and almost trampled a couple of grandmothers, who inadvertently turned out to be on his way. "Vo, now I would hang a couple of stars on the wing," Vovan said with some vexation. The fact that the assaults on the gaping pedestrians Kolyan neatly marked on the Jeep's wing a stylized image of a grandmother with a stick. Apparently imitating the pilots, who during the war celebrated downed aircraft stars on the sides. Under the escort of the jeep, the caravan moved to the repair boxes. Palych's mood was excellent. So easily he himself did not expect to get rid of Sidorov. Filipchy still was not - and this meant that they would most likely share only 50 bucks. However, the idyllic mood of Palych lasted only about half an hour. Instead of the expected Filipych, the characteristic sound of the subcompact was heard and Palych's vagaries fell on the approaching Tavria, but behind it was a clearly bandit jeep. Palych's mood immediately fell below the sewer. "They will beat you," Palych said. "Blah! Who knew that Sidorov had such a roof." It was too late to give the game, and nowhere. Meanwhile, Sidorov poked the car with his starboard side to the wall. However, to the left of it, sweeping the fence with a camera, a jeep of brothers was parked close to him. Sidorov was trapped in his car and therefore could not take part in the initial stage of talks between the high parties. Vovan and Kolyan called out to Palych: "Hey, commander!" Look at the wing! "Why should I look at him?" That I, did not see the wings, - somewhere aside Pavlych muttered. - Commander - you look, how many dough wings will be made? - all trying to get the attention of Palych, Kolyan pressed. However, here Palych heard the voice of Sidorov, who, lowering the glass, yelled: - Palych - at least you confirm - the same dent for two weeks already !!! Such a turn made some confusion in the scenario with the massacre, which Palych himself already painted. The case took an unexpected turn and Palych, in order to gain time, went to Tavria and began to study the damage, as if he had seen them for the first time. Brotherhood ohrenela from such impudence. "Commander, you have not missed the bazaar!" I'm asking you about dough. And you stared at this trash ... At these words, Palych, as an ostrich shoved his head under the wing of Tavria and feverishly tried to figure out what was happening. But there was something to think about. On the one hand, the bratva clearly strains for money, and on the other, the hysterical Sidorov begs Palych to confirm that the wing was dented a week ago. From such serious meditations, Palych from Tavria did not want to get out at all. But there was nowhere to pull further. Palych decided. Pay, apparently, still have to - and he crawled out from under the Tavriya, and looking into the distance, said: - Nuuu ... 50 bucks. - What 50? !! Everyone was amazed. "Well, that's ... well, I'm talking about tanks for 50 rubles." Kolyan grunted, took out a fifty-dollar bill from his pocket and gave Palych u. Palych began to creep along the wall of the box. 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 вида 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!
Not only a Russian woman's horse at a gallop ...
One day, in the early 80's, was in an obscenity named Maurice Torez indescribable case. Four Slovak, quite normal body, longing far from home, decided to drink in the middle of a white day. Well, it happens, well, this is life. It is impossible now to find out why and how much they drank before the main events began. But it was: a) clearly a lot; B) it is not important. Much more important was that they went to the street. He did not have enough adventures for complete courage, you see. What do you think - only the Russian soul asks for a holiday? By no means! The path of stupid Slovak girls lay, unfortunately, past the vegetable store. By the way, everyone remembers that the girls were not fifteen, but only four hours? And that they were not Olympic medalists, not even hammer throwing, not even swimming? Well, then, passing by the "Fruit Vegetables", the girls flew off. No, not a hat. Roof! And you will see this now. For before the store there was such a trellised container on wheels - anyone who in those years went to vegetable stores, will understand what I'm talking about. In such containers, unshaven loaders exported vegetables and fruit products to the trading hall, and citizens joyfully poked around in it, winning what they did not have until the end of rotting on the vegetable base. But in the case described, the container stood on the street and was full of watermelons, and the seller had just left for dinner, closing the casket with watermelons to the castle in order to avoid shrinkage and rastruski goods during their absence. The slender sisters of the fraternal people saw watermelons and desired them. Here, so to speak, and now. Being in high spirits, they were not particularly upset when they saw the lack of a seller and the lock on the container. They took up amicably, and: they drove off crookedly. From the vegetable store, it is, I suppose, simply not noticed, and passing citizens and their efforts were enough, especially in those years. Therefore, until the hostel the container dipped unhindered (and it was not far), and there it was full-length apotheosis. Everyone remembers how many girls there were, and that they did not represent anything special from themselves? Good. So, these usual drunken slovaks, taking advantage of the running off of an elderly guard from the service post for five minutes for a very good reason, pushed the container with watermelons into the hostel, and then, gathered with forces, dragged this structure up the stairs to the second floor. They did not manage to put the container in their room - the door was narrow. But the girls were not embarrassed. Noting the successful operation of the remnants of alcohol, they pinned the hairpin (!) Open and reached the watermelons. I will not talk about what I do not know. For example, what kind of person was the seller of a vegetable store, when he discovered the shrinkage and raspusku of his watermelons, and even on such a fatal scale. But what I did after the police call, I know. The path of thieves was easily calculated, for yet not every day four girls roll along the street a container with watermelons. And although the waggons completely denied the penetration of watermelons on the territory entrusted to her, but the residence of the girls described to her confirmed, and reported the room number, in front of which was found a container with watermelons, and in the room at the table the girls were sleeping, Fatigue, cut only one single trophy watermelon. So, curious people can estimate how much the container weighs with watermelons. I will only say that the police, tearing and swearing, lowered the container to the first floor and returned the stolen by purpose, in accessible and understandable terms, instructing the attendant to warm up the seller, who did not bother to tie the container to anything heavy-handed. Subsequently, one of the militiamen, having come together in the process of analyzing this incident with one of the plunderers of socialist property, married her; He left with his wife in Bratislava, and then to Prague, where he told me about the history of dating his wife, who was terribly embarrassed and blushed throughout the story.
Ukrainian Buddhism
In the heart of Europe lies the state, which is larger than all other European states. There the most fat land for cultivation of technical hemp, there dohuya different natural resources, there are chic mountains and seas. There is everything except oil, but oil can also be extracted directly from the pipes that lie on this earth here and there. In general, not the earth, but paradise. Many wanted to own this territory, and many got pussy because of it. Barbarians otpizdili Greeks, Lithuanians - Tatars, Poles - Turks, Russian - Germans. And as a result, this land was promised to the Khokhlam. Like this. Looking at this incident, many peoples still remain in neponyatkah. Transcarpathia all my life was Hungarian, Carpathians - Austrian, Polesie - Polish, Bukovina - Romanian, North - Lithuanian, South - Turkish, Crimea - Tatar, Donbass - Russian, Kiev - common, and now it's all hohljatskoe! And dick priebeshsya that the most interesting. How did this historical paradox happen? I answer - thanks to the innate Khokhlyak Buddhism. To begin, we will answer, where did this extraordinary people come from, who managed to throw a dick as a result? According to legend, when the first crest was born, all the Jews cried. And, as history showed, the Jews did not cry in vain. In appearance, the Ukrainians are very good-natured. Good-natured they are inside. They pose an immediate threat exclusively to pigs, for whom they are natural enemies. Khokhlu does not attack anyone against anyone, because it's not good to piss off the neighbor. True, if a neighbor asks someone to kick off, then the Ukrainians can not refuse him either, because rejecting one's neighbor is also not good. Thus, Ukrainians pissed Tatars with Russians, Poles with Tatars, Russians with Poles. Swedes with Russians and Russians with Swedes. Together with the Turks pussy Russian and Poles, and then with the Russians and Poles - the Turks. Pizdili even Italians, along with the Austrians and Iraqis with Americans. Periodically, the Ukrainians themselves received pussy, and then they made strange eyes and thought, "Well, what for is this me?", After which they pissed the Jews, and they, of course, cried. (The Jews raked in as direct competitors.) But on the whole, this people is quiet and humane. The main precept of khokhlov is << my hut with the edge >>. They even called their state - Ukraine. That is, << all of us pohuyu, do not touch us, for God's sake, understand yourself, dolboey >>. The main life principle of khokhlov is multi-vector. Or, to be clearer, - "and eat a fish, and on the dick sit down." The main dream of the Ukrainians is that the vareniki jump themselves into the mouth. And do not laugh. If we consider how the Ukrainians gained their independence, this dream does not seem so unrealistic. Khokhlis are real Buddhists, skilfully disguised as Orthodox (by the way, Orthodox dioceses in Ukraine - four pieces, to choose from). The favorite color of khokhlov is orange, the color of the uniform of the Dalai Lama. And since the Great Buddha said: "Life is suffering," it is the suffering of the Khokhlis that made the basis of one's worldview. They are sure that their whole history was jerked by national, social and religious oppression. That's why Taras Shevchenko is recognized as the main Khokhlyak poet, the most affected of literate khokhlov. (He suffered because he had finished. He wrote about the tsar-priest with a foul verse and answered for the bazaar). As true Buddhists, the Khokhlis preach non-resistance to evil, and hammering on it a large bolt. And so they still do not give the status of veterans to the fighters from the UPA. To know how to violate the national essence. Aggressive crest - this is not a crest. Buddhist principles make us, Khokhlov, invulnerable to the blows of fate. To us these blows just fuck. We know that everything will pass, so there is no reason to be sober. As it is sung in one hohljatsky song: << To be pounded by our ¬ sovers, yak dew on sonic ¬. Zanugm ¬ mi, brother, have their own side >>. That is, our enemies sooner or later will disappear somewhere, not eternal, and then we will pokomanduem on our land. Julie, is it difficult for us to wait? We are Buddhists.