Story about your life. Category: Real life stories

Dear friend! On this page you will find a selection of small or rather even very small stories with deep spiritual meaning. Some stories are only 4-5 lines, some a little more. Every story, no matter how short, reveals a big story. Some stories are light and humorous, others are instructive and suggest deep philosophical thoughts, but they are all very, very soulful.

The genre of the short story is notable for the fact that with a few words a big story is created, which involves brainwashing and smiling, or pushing the imagination to a flight of thoughts and understanding. After reading just this one page, you might get the impression that you have mastered several books.

This collection contains many stories about love and the theme of death, the meaning of life and the emotional living of every moment of it, which is so close to it. The topic of death is often tried to be avoided, and in several short stories on this page it is shown from such an original side that it makes it possible to understand it in a completely new way, and therefore begin to live differently.

Enjoy reading and interesting spiritual impressions!

"Recipe for female happiness" - Stanislav Sevastyanov

Masha Skvortsova dressed up, put on makeup, sighed, made up her mind - and came to visit Petya Siluyanov. And he treated her to tea with amazing cakes. And Vika Telepenina did not dress up, did not put on makeup, did not sigh - and easily appeared to Dima Seleznev. And he treated her to vodka with amazing sausage. So there are countless recipes for female happiness.

"In Search of Truth" - Robert Tompkins

Finally, in this remote, secluded village, his search was over. Truth sat by the fire in a dilapidated hut.
He had never seen an older and uglier woman.
- Are you true?
The old, shriveled hag nodded solemnly.
"Tell me, what should I tell the world?" What message to convey?
The old woman spat into the fire and answered:
"Tell them I'm young and beautiful!"

"Silver Bullet" - Brad D. Hopkins

Sales have been declining for six consecutive quarters. The munitions factory suffered catastrophic losses and was on the verge of bankruptcy.
Chief Executive Scott Phillips had no idea what was going on, but shareholders would probably blame him for everything.
He opened a desk drawer, took out a revolver, put the muzzle to his temple, and pulled the trigger.
Misfire.
“Okay, let’s take care of the product quality control department.”

"Once upon a time there was love"

And one day the Great Flood came. And Noah said:
“Only every creature - a pair! And Singles - ficus !!! "
Love began to look for a mate - Pride, Wealth,
Glory, Joy, but they already had satellites.
And then Separation came to her, and said:
"I love you".
Love quickly jumped into the Ark with her.
But Separation actually fell in love with Love and did not
I wanted to part with her even on earth.
And now Separation always follows Love...

"Sublime sadness" - Stanislav Sevastyanov

Love sometimes evokes sublime sadness. At dusk, when the thirst for love is completely unbearable, student Krylov came to the house of his beloved, student Katya Moshkina from a parallel group, and climbed up the drainpipe to her balcony to make a confession. On the way, he diligently repeated the words that he would say to her, and was so carried away that he forgot to stop in time. So he stood all night sad on the roof of a nine-story building, until the firemen removed it.

"Mother" - Vladislav Panfilov

The mother was unhappy. She buried her husband and son, and grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. She remembered them as small and thick-cheeked and gray-haired and hunched over. Mother felt like a lonely birch in the forest scorched by time. Mother begged to grant her death: any, the most painful. For she is tired of living! But I had to live on ... And the only consolation for the mother was the grandchildren of her grandchildren, the same big-eyed and chubby. And she nursed them and told them all her life, and the life of her children and her grandchildren ... But one day giant blinding pillars grew around her mother, and she saw how her great-great-grandchildren burned alive, and she herself screamed from the pain of melting skin and pulled to the sky withered yellow hands and cursed him for her fate. But the sky responded with a new whistle of cut air and new flashes of fiery death. And in convulsions, the Earth was agitated, and millions of souls fluttered into space. And the planet tensed up in a nuclear apoplexy and exploded into pieces ...

The little pink fairy, swaying on an amber twig, was chirping to her girlfriends for the umpteenth time about how many years ago, flying to the other end of the universe, she noticed a small bluish-green sparkling in the rays of space small planet. “Oh, she is so wonderful! Oh! She is so beautiful!” the fairy cooed. “I have been flying over the emerald fields all day! Azure lakes! Silver rivers! I felt so good that I decided to do some good deed!” And I saw a boy sitting alone on the shore of a tired pond, and I flew up to him and whispered: “I want to fulfill your cherished desire! Tell me it!" And the boy looked up at me with beautiful dark eyes: “It's my mother's birthday today. I want her, no matter what, to live forever!” “Oh, what a noble desire! Oh, how sincere it is! Oh, how sublime it is! sang the little fairies. “Oh, how happy is this woman who has such a noble son!”

"Lucky" - Stanislav Sevastyanov

He looked at her, admired her, trembled at the meeting: she sparkled against the background of his mundane everyday life, was sublimely beautiful, cold and inaccessible. Suddenly, having fairly endowed her with his attention, he felt that she, as if melting under his scorching gaze, began to reach out to him. And so, without expecting it, he made contact with her ... He came to his senses when the nurse changed the bandage on his head.
“You are lucky,” she said affectionately, “rarely anyone survives from such icicles.”

"Wings"

“I don’t love you,” these words pierced the heart, turning inside out with sharp edges, turning them into mincemeat.

“I don’t love you,” simple six syllables, only twelve letters that kill us, shooting merciless sounds from our mouths.

“I don’t love you,” there is nothing more terrible when a loved one pronounces them. The one for which you live, for which you do everything, for which you can even die.

“I don’t love you,” his eyes darken. First, peripheral vision is turned off: a dark veil envelops everything around, leaving a small space. Then flickering, iridescent gray dots cover the remaining area. Dark completely. You feel only your tears, a terrible pain in your chest, squeezing your lungs, like a press. You are squeezed and trying to take as little space as possible in this world, to hide from these hurting words.

“I don’t love you,” your wings, which covered you and your loved one in difficult times, begin to crumble with already yellowed feathers, like November trees under a gust of autumn wind. Piercing cold passes through the body, freezing the soul. Only two shoots are already sticking out of the back, covered with a light fluff, but even he withers from words, crumbling into silver dust.

“I don’t love you,” the letters dig into the remnants of the wings with a screeching saw, tearing them out of the back, tearing the flesh to the shoulder blades. Blood runs down his back, washing away his feathers. Small fountains gush from the arteries and it seems that new wings have grown - bloody wings, light, air-squirting.

“I don’t love you.” There are no more wings. The blood stopped flowing, drying up in a black crust on his back. What used to be called wings are now only barely noticeable tubercles, somewhere at the level of the shoulder blades. The pain is gone and the words are just words. A set of sounds that no longer cause suffering, do not even leave traces.

The wounds have healed. Time cures…
Time heals even the worst wounds. Everything passes, even the long winter. Spring will still come, melting the ice in the soul. You hug your beloved, dearest person, and clasp him with snow-white wings. Wings always grow back.

- I love you…

"Ordinary scrambled eggs" - Stanislav Sevastyanov

“Go, go everyone. It’s better somehow alone: ​​I’ll freeze, I’ll be unsociable, like a bump in a swamp, like a snowdrift. And when I lie down in the coffin, don’t you dare come to me to weep to your heart’s content for your own good, bending over the fallen body, left by the muse, and the pen, and the shabby, stained oil paper ... ”Having written this, the sentimentalist writer Sherstobitov re-read what he had written about thirty times, he added “cramped” in front of the coffin, and was so imbued with the resulting tragedy that he could not stand it and shed a tear on himself. And then his wife Varenka called him to supper, and he was pleasantly satisfied with vinaigrette and scrambled eggs with sausage. In the meantime, his tears dried up, and, returning to the text, he first crossed out “cramped”, and then instead of “I lie down in a coffin” he wrote “I lie down on Parnassus”, because of which all subsequent harmony went to dust. “Well, to hell with harmony, I’d better go and stroke Varenka’s knee ...” So an ordinary scrambled egg was preserved for the grateful descendants of the sentimentalist writer Sherstobitov.

"Destiny" - Jay Rip

There was only one way out, for our lives were intertwined in a knot of anger and bliss too tangled to solve everything in any other way. Let's trust the lot: heads - and we will get married, tails - and we will part forever.
The coin was flipped. She chimed, spun, and stopped. Eagle.
We stared at her in bewilderment.
Then, with one voice, we said: "Maybe one more time?"

"Chest" - Daniil Kharms

The thin-necked man climbed into the chest, closed the lid behind him, and began to choke.

Here, a man with a thin neck said, panting, I am suffocating in a chest, because I have a thin neck. The lid of the chest is closed and does not allow air to reach me. I will suffocate, but I still won't open the lid of the chest. Gradually I will die. I will see the struggle of life and death. The battle will take place unnaturally, with equal chances, because death naturally conquers, and life, doomed to death, only fights in vain with the enemy, until the last minute, without losing vain hope. In the same struggle that will take place now, life will know the way of its victory: for this life it is necessary to force my hands to open the lid of the chest. Let's see who wins? Only now it smells awful of mothballs. If life wins, I will sprinkle things in the chest with shag ... It has begun: I can no longer breathe. I'm dead, that's clear! I have no salvation! And there is nothing sublime in my head. I'm suffocating!…

Ouch! What is it? Now something has happened, but I can't figure out what it is. I saw or heard something...
Ouch! Did something happen again? My God! I have nothing to breathe. I seem to be dying...

What else is this? Why do I sing? I think my neck hurts... But where is the chest? Why can I see everything in my room? No way I'm lying on the floor! Where is the chest?

The thin-necked man got up from the floor and looked around. The chest was nowhere to be found. On the chairs and on the bed were things taken from the chest, but the chest was nowhere to be found.

The thin necked man said:
“So life has conquered death in a way unknown to me.

"Unfortunate" - Dan Andrews

They say evil has no face. Indeed, his face showed no emotion. There was not a glimmer of sympathy on him, and yet the pain is simply unbearable. Doesn't he see the horror in my eyes and the panic in my face? He calmly, one might say, professionally did his dirty work, and in the end he politely said: "Rinse your mouth, please."

"Dirty laundry"

One married couple moved to live in a new apartment. In the morning, barely waking up, the wife looked out the window and saw a neighbor who was hanging out washed clothes to dry.
“Look how dirty her laundry is,” she told her husband. But he read the newspaper and did not pay any attention to it.

“She probably has bad soap, or she doesn’t know how to wash at all. I should teach her."
And so every time a neighbor hung out the laundry, the wife was surprised at how dirty it was.
One fine morning, looking out the window, she cried out: “Oh! Today the linen is clean! She must have learned to wash!”
“No,” said the husband, “I just got up early today and washed the window.”

“I didn’t wait” - Stanislav Sevastyanov

It was an incredible moment. Despising unearthly forces and own way, he froze to look at her for future use. At first, she took off her dress for a very long time, fussed with the lightning; then she loosened her hair, combed it, filling it with air and silky color; then she pulled with stockings, tried not to catch with her nails; then she hesitated with pink underwear, so ethereal that even her delicate fingers seemed rough. Finally, she undressed all - but the month was already looking out of another window.

"Wealth"

Once a rich man gave a poor man a basket full of rubbish. The poor man smiled at him and left with the basket. I shook the garbage out of it, cleaned it, and then filled it with beautiful flowers. He returned to the rich man and returned the basket to him.

The rich man was surprised and asked: “Why are you giving me this basket filled with beautiful flowers, if I gave you rubbish?”
And the poor man replied: “Everyone gives to another what he has in his heart.”

"Do not waste the good" - Stanislav Sevastyanov

"How much do you take?" “Six hundred rubles an hour.” “And in two hours?” - "Thousand". He came to her, she smelled sweet of perfume and craftsmanship, he was agitated, she touched his fingers, his fingers were naughty, crooked and ridiculous, but he clenched his will into a fist. Returning home, he immediately sat down at the piano and began to consolidate the scale he had just studied. The tool, an old "Becker", got to him from the former tenants. Fingers ached, pawned in the ears, willpower grew stronger. The neighbors were banging on the wall.

"Postcards from the Other World" - Franco Arminio

Here the end of winter and the end of spring are about the same. The first roses serve as a signal. I saw one rose when they took me to the ambulance. I closed my eyes thinking about that rose. Up front, the driver and the nurse were talking about a new restaurant. There you eat your fill, and the prices are miserable.

At some point, I decided that I could become an important person. I felt that death was giving me a reprieve. Then I plunged headlong into life, like a child putting his hand into a stocking with Epiphany gifts. Then my day came. Wake up, my wife told me. Wake up, she repeated everything.

It was a fine sunny day. I didn't want to die on a day like this. I always thought that I would die at night, under the barking of dogs. But I died at noon when the cooking show started on TV.

They say most people die at dawn. For years I woke up at four in the morning, got up and waited for the fateful hour to pass. I opened a book or turned on the TV. Sometimes he went outside. I died at seven in the evening. Nothing special happened. The world has always given me a vague anxiety. And then this anxiety suddenly disappeared.

I was ninety nine. My children came to the nursing home just to talk to me about my centenary celebration. It didn't bother me at all. I didn't hear them, I felt only my tiredness. And I wanted to die so as not to feel her. It happened in front of my oldest daughter. She gave me a piece of an apple and talked about a cake with the number one hundred. Ones should be as long as a stick, and zeros as long as bicycle wheels, she said.

My wife still complains about the doctors who did not cure me. Although I always considered myself incurable. Even when Italy won the World Cup, even when I got married.

By the age of fifty, I had the face of a man who could die any minute. I died at ninety-six, after a long agony.

What I have always enjoyed is the nativity scene. Every year he got better and better. I exhibited it in front of the door of our house. The door was constantly open. I divided the only room with a red-and-white ribbon, like when repairing roads. Those who stopped to admire the nativity scene, I treated them to beer. I talked in detail about papier-mâché, musk, lambs, magi, rivers, castles, shepherds and shepherds, caves, the Baby, the guiding star, electrical wiring. Wiring was my pride. I died alone on Christmas night, looking at the nativity scene, sparkling with all the lights.

Everyone has moments in life when difficulties are overcome, and it seems that hands are about to drop ... The stories of these amazingly strong-willed people will help many of us understand that you can cope with any situation and under any life circumstances, the main thing is to believe in yourself and to your strength!

/ Life stories

/ Life stories

The history of the creation of an amateur series about the manners and customs of the African country of Ghana and the position of women in society. Even if you are a doctor of sciences or, by chance, the owner own business, for an African man it does not matter. You are a woman, which means that you should not have a personal opinion, as well as desires.

/ Life stories

Timur Belkin is professionally engaged in photography, creates websites, develops the public “Another Odessa”, in which he covers informal events of the seaside city, and holds performances as part of the authentic La Briar theater. But today we are going to talk about the features of hitchhiking in domestic open spaces.

/ Life stories

We are the fast food generation. We have everything quickly, in a hurry: instant pictures, short SMS, express trips... A crazy kaleidoscope of events behind which you can't see the essence... Why are we in such a hurry to live? This question was asked to the heroine of the story by an old antiquarian. And the search for an answer helped the girl find her calling and taught her to value time.

/ Life stories

On the International Day of the Girl, which is celebrated all over the world today in support of equal rights, I would like to recall such an important, integral (albeit sometimes hated) part of our life as education. To get an education, for example, in Afghanistan, girls literally risk their lives...

/ Life stories

How to get into the winter in the summer, make it rain on a sunny morning and curb the wind? Why filming never depends on the weather forecast and how long does it take to put a lime in a block of ice? In the realm Snow Queen know the answers, you will too.

/ Life stories

She looks better than flowers on a dress. With a warm look, a caramel smile. Next to her is a confident calm. She says - Vajra, and you want to listen to her. She says awareness, and it needs to be written down. And read. After all, this is yoga. And something else.

/ Life stories

"A dream needs to be lived and thought about. It needs to be allowed to grow stronger so that it does not shrink in front of public opinion and criticism. To know that it is unique only because it originates from love. From the love of photography." Let's talk about your dream of becoming a photographer.

/ Life stories

What kind of business becomes profitable, how to survive frustration, build your own reality with your own hands and want to get married right. Says a European Top 100 Entrepreneur who worked for Google and Cisco in Silicon Valley and raised $3 million in funding for her startup.

/ Life stories

Pole dance is the toughest type of dance, which requires not only coordination and flexibility, but remarkable strength in the arms, abs and other muscles. Acrobatics. Stretch marks. Soldier work. Expander in hand. And love. Because how can you endure all this if you do not like this activity?

"Dude, how do you even live in Moscow?! I ran here along the street with all my might
forces, and everyone went faster than me ... "

Spring, the girls are blooming. I run, as usual, through the lobby
"Kievskaya-Filyovskaya" in the direction of the escalator to Koltsevaya. Before
a beautiful girl froze into the floor with a comb: mighty, like a well-groomed mare,
body, wheaten, thick in my hand, braid flowing below cast
hemispheres, a chintz sarafan and a handbag of post-war style...
While I was wondering which side to go around this model of the sculptor
Mukhina, a granny-cart fluttered out from behind me (always
wondered what force wears them faster than a healthy 40-year-old uncle) and
stuck to the maiden, they say, daughter, is it not bad for you, maybe
validolchik?
The young lady, with great difficulty tearing her glassy gaze from the floating from under
feet into the terrible depths of the steps, looked plaintively at her grandmother, and,
drawing out her words, she said in a lazy chest bass:
- Granny... I'm afraid...
Saved the girl in the end. I held the cart, and the grandmother was elusive, but
with a precise movement, she forced the beauty to step onto the marvelous staircase.

Russia is still alive, eh! :)

I’m going recently in a minibus, on a weekday evening, everyone is tired, traffic jams. Then a young mother comes in with a son of 4-6 years old, they give her a place, she sits down, her son sits down on her knees. Here they go one, two, three stops, the boy examines everything around - the upholstery of the seats, the shop windows passing through the window, the tired faces of fellow travelers, his mother's bag ... But the space of the minibus is limited, and he repeats his "route" - the seats, passengers, the window , then raises his eyes to his mother, looks into her eyes and is completely calm, I would even say, business tone, He speaks:
- So, mom, I'll start whining now.

During the summer I went to the cottage past an abandoned construction site.

There, homeless people broke old concrete slabs and took out rebar from there. Iron costs 6-8 rubles per kg. It's just hellish work for a penny. With such labor costs, you can earn much more. But they gradually dismantled the whole abandoned base of the structure 50 by 30 meters. What drives them? Free schedule or no tax deductions?

Talking on the phone:
“We need two girls for the evening, only beautiful ones, for 3 hours, how much will an hour cost? Yes, in suits, just like last time. Those who were there that week are not needed, they are somehow modest, but it is necessary that they actively give. If they give well, we will throw them on top. And definitely older than 18, but not old or fat. In heels, of course. We will eat and drink, of course. Payment immediately. Just post a photo first. We agreed with the security, everything is in order.

So our marketer orders promoters for an urgent action, walking along the corridor of the business center.

I've been burping since childhood. Everyone and always made fun of this - in kindergarten, classmates, classmates, girlfriends, parents, co-workers...
I stoically endured everything. But when the letter "P" began to fall on my computer, I realized all the injustice of this world.

Hot water has been turned off since the beginning of the week. Due to my great laziness, I fell into the trouble of bothering with pots and heating water. And today, once again climbed into the bathroom and try to wash in cold water. I douse myself with water and yell, simultaneously puffing and groaning. I hear a neighbor's voice from the bottom floor: "Here you hear, a person washes in cold water and does not die. And you, like a peasant, are busy with your basins."

Bastard cat

I have a cat who lived to puberty and had a cat delivered to her. And the cat, although very preoccupied sexually, is still a virgin and does not know what to do with an equally virgin girlfriend. Either it will fit across it and twitch, then it strives to climb on its head (probably a Frenchman ...). He is so dissatisfied with the results of his attempts that their number has become minimal.

Here I am cleaning the room, and this couple finally reached some consensus and merged in ecstasy. I carry an armful of clothes and from this armful a belt stretches across the floor. Seeing this, the cat suddenly stops his honorable occupation and runs to play with the belt. The cat was SO surprised by the escape of the gentleman that for the first time in my life I saw a truly stunned look in an animal. Also, probably, I thought, what kind of bastards are men ...

A friend's cat with the name Auror began to mark under the table in the kitchen. And the cat is beloved, smart, offending - nothing. Bought a bottle of stink. Poured in the kitchen, helped. When the balloon ran out, Aurora was left empty under the table as a warning. Since then, when a smart cat considered himself offended by something, he came into the kitchen, yelled at the balloon, knocked it down with his paw and made a puddle in this place. There you are..!

Here, once again I came home late after another "workday".
I asked my wife how she was doing at work.
And I heard an enchanting phrase, completely consonant with my thoughts:
- Dear, if I tell you about all my problems today, and then you tell me about yours, then we will go to bed no earlier than three in the morning.

Love her.

I met a friend on the street. And he's just in the church a few
collected containers of holy water. We sit on a bench and talk. summer, heat,
Slowly drink some water. Just about to leave, coming to us
bukharik.
- Are you Russian people?
- And then!!!
- Maybe then for a beer?
- No, they just drank a liter of holy water. We just have nowhere.

You should have seen his face!!! But it was clear that he did not believe us.

I went to my Spanish bank - to resolve all sorts of issues with my manager. Well, what SMS messages to send (this is not done through Internet banking, only with a manager), which credit cards to close (there is no point in using them in Spain) - in general, the usual routine. We talked for about twenty minutes in Spanish: I was at my best, I never even looked into the dictionary (s).

Everything has been decided, everything has been done, we say goodbye. The manager gets up, shakes my hand and says quite seriously in Spanish: "Alex, I've even begun to understand your Russian."

P.S. I immediately recall an old joke about a Parisian store where a sign hung: "Here they understand the French language that you learned at school."

I was told this story. I believe the narrator, while he is almost a participant. Came to his organization new employee. Still quite a young man, who retired from the army due to reduction. It is not known where he served there, but he began to master the computer in earnest already at this job. According to the narrator, he was a smart man and learned everything quickly. Once he showed him the possibility of viewing the photo series of streets and specific houses. But it's probably better if he didn't know. Soon it became known that he was divorcing his wife. It seems to be caught in treason. After everything happened, he himself told his teacher that the computer, specifically Yandex, was the cause. Looking at the photo row around his house, he saw a colleague standing in front of him with his wife at the entrance. That once had to do with his long business trip, where he stayed for more than two months.

The serious reason

I vouch for the truth.

Once drunk, the father-in-law, the director of the plant, told a completely terrible story. A worker comes to the chief engineer and asks to be allowed to go home. He naturally asks about the reason. The worker crumples, shrinks and says that it is very necessary. The engineer is not an evil man, so he answers: "I'll let you go, but I need to indicate the reason for the absence in the documents." He: "I cut off my finger with a pair of pneumoscissors."

The engineer almost died on the spot - an accident at work. In short, an ambulance, nix to the skies, etc. When the peasant was discharged, a labor protection commission arrived at the plant. The equipment works fine - you need to press two buttons at the same time for the scissors to work, so there are no free hands left. They ask to show how he managed to cripple himself. He calmly supports one button with a stick (quite a common thing), lays down a sheet of metal and CUTS OFF HIS SECOND FINGER.

Later he swore that it was by accident, but the commission, having regained consciousness, closed the case.

Once we went to the country, it was light. Were stuck in a traffic jam. The car in front didn't have a stoplight. Two boys were sitting in the back seat, who, at the right moment, raised a cardboard box on which it was written "BRAKES". :)

At the beginning of the century, among the “golden youth”, there was a fashion at night on daddy’s Mercedes and Beamers to stray into caudles and smear rubber on the asphalt of deserted squares and final stops. Compared to masterful cinematic drifting, translating daddy's tires in front of heifers looked pathetic and very childish, but self-criticism was never strong point majors.

Yesterday I was walking from the last subway train in the direction of my wilderness. Absolutely empty street, bus turnaround area. On it ... I would like to say - silently, but no, of course - with a roar of the engine and sighs of the brakes, the KAMAZ sprinkler is dancing. Not a soul around, only two powerful fountains of water (both watering cans raised vertically) sparkle with diamonds in the yellow light of lanterns, which sometimes break through clouds of diesel smoke. Uncle dances masterfully, I somehow even imagined an invisible partner, whom he leads under the waterfalls of his rain. (Kamasihu, yeah...)

I stood and looked for about five minutes. I lit up. Seeing the light of the lighter and me, the driver somehow shied away, plunged into a dull real. I got out of the cab, flipped the watering cans down and started cleaning the street...

There were no tire marks on the pavement. He glided across the water.
(Not mine. Found online)

FREUDIAN SLIP
In a car dealership, a citizen whose appearance is already quite ordinary for Moscow time - even now on a poster of an extremist organization banned in the Russian Federation. Next to the wife wrapped in a rug. Near the budget standard foreign cars are pushing. She is interested in the manager - Does she have SELF-DEPLOYMENT? About the remote start of the engine as it turned out it was.

WHERE LIPSTICK LEADS...
On Saturday evening, after coming home from work, the wife found traces of lipstick on her cup.
Asks me a question:
- Did we have guests?
“No,” I say, “there was no one.
I don't use this lipstick...
Word for word. Scandal and accusations of all mortal sins.
The next day, after thorough inquiries, it turned out that the nine-year-old daughter found her mother's lipstick, bought long ago and now safely forgotten, and drank tea from her mother's mug.

I remember this day. October 1, 1990 Mom got me a ticket to the Crimea, and all September, the boys and I from all over our vast homeland tumbled into the sea. Everyone spoke Russian, even Vitalik Tsitsialashvilli from Navoi. Evpatoria, the sun, you know how to feed? Breakfast, second breakfast, afternoon snack, lunch, dinner, dinner. Every morning we went out in white shirts and pioneer ties to line up. To the anthem, the most distinguished raised the banner. This was spectacular! And then that day came ... October 1 ... We were awakened by the pioneers around 12 at night. Drunk. And they said that tomorrow there is no need to go to the line, the pioneers are no more. I was twelve, I thought more about the death of Tsoi than about the fact that this was the beginning of the end of a huge country. And that these guys from Kazakhstan or Georgia, who are standing next to me, will become foreigners in a year ... The next morning we came. To the line. In white shirts and red ties. They stood in silence for ten minutes. But the leaders did not come out, and no one raised the banner.

I temporarily live in Moscow and I had to take a taxi at night. I caught a private trader, drove a kilometer on the strength, I ask the price. He says: "1700 rubles." Well, of course I'm crazy!
I tell him:
- It's easier for me to throw you ...
And... woke up.
P.S. I’m lying, laughing: I threw it notably!

It was quite a long time ago, maybe now there is such a thing, but I have not seen it for a long time. I'm in a taxi, there's a huge puddle ahead. Along the puddle stands the punks, in boots, in jackets. The taxi driver accelerates. I told him:
- What the hell, you're gonna splatter the kids!
- Yes, they are standing here on purpose, waiting to be sprayed. They kind of have a game. It's not the first time I've been here.
We pass a puddle at speed, spray like from a hose. I look back. Judging by the behavior, no one is upset. I remembered my childhood: puddles, home-made rafts, "filled" boots, dirty water...
Now I’m thinking: maybe it’s better really like this, and not like now - to sit in front of the monitor on the Internet?

I can’t vouch for the authenticity of the story, her brother told from the words of friends.
They decided to go to a newfangled water park in the neighboring region. They scored his address in the navigator and drove off. When the navigation lady reported "You have arrived at your destination," the friends looked around in confusion. Around were only private buildings.
When asked by a passer-by "Where is the water park", he somehow strangely nervously giggled and waved his hand towards the banner, on which it was written in huge letters "WATER PARK IS NOT HERE !!!"

Women's...
The traffic cop stops me.
- "The lieutenant is so-and-so. Why are they not fastened?"
- "Yes, I, mister policeman, just - just unfastened - fix the eggs."
A storm of emotions swept over the officer's face, the rights fell out of the hands of a body bent in half, which, going into a fit of hysterical laughter, trying to show, they say, drive faster.
For a long time I sincerely wondered why everyone was laughing at this story, but I really corrected the eggs lying in the back seat ...

After moving to Germany, many migrants from Kazakhstan have many good friends from work colleagues in their former homeland. My cousin and his wife helped their good friends for several years with money and parcels, supporting their existence. What was his surprise, rather even shock, when friends called and said that they were going to visit Germany in order to buy a Mercedes car. The car was supposed to be no older than 5 years and then cost from 5 to 7 thousand stamps.

An uncle came to other relatives with a list of things he wanted to buy in Germany, and next to each thing was the name of a relative who had to pay for the purchase.

At the airport in Frankfurt met the nephew of the daughter-in-law from Kazakhstan. He walked holding a small plastic bag, in which there was one toothbrush. It was all his luggage, which he took with him, and went to visit for a whole month, he didn’t even take his underpants with him.

I have a friend, a guy who is crazy and frostbitten at 100 - the preamble.

We are driving in my car in Kharkov, looking for a house with a specific number, and we are driving along the Poltava Way (who knows, he will understand) after the bridge there are cops, I think I’ll park and ask where the house number is such and such ... I slow down near a young cop and the other a little to the side and further down the street on the mobile to actively chatter ... well, I opened the passenger window and through Drula I ask like Where is this street where is this house ... he tries to explain something there, but moves out that the scary knows better ... the one who on the phone p ... dit ... we get to him and I don’t have time to ask so my friend gives out the window - hear the captain, the young man has no change from a hundred, he looked in his pockets without stopping talking, took out a fifty kopeck, unfastened it, Dryulya I took it and we drove off ... then I drove around this road for a week ...

I don't even know if this is good or not.

I'm going to the subway. Something female enters the car, but of a homeless appearance and a corresponding smell. Half the wagon shied away from her like the plague; a woman comes up to her, hands her a hundred and asks her to get out of the car. And then I came up with a business plan...

Dad came home from work, all cold. Feels unimportant. In connection with the commotion about the flu, I decided to take the temperature.
- 36.8. Oh, I'm the sickest person in the world. I need a jar of jam and a small bottle of cognac.

The first time I felt like a driver was not when I stopped drenched in cold sweat from the mere thought that there, in the parking lot, a car was waiting for me.
And not when he began to put pressure on the brake while in the passenger seat.
And not even when he began to chuckle in the direction of "teapots" and "summer residents" and contemptuously call them "deer".
And I became a driver at the moment when I was stomping down the street on foot, I heard a noise from behind, quite mechanically looked up to look in the rear-view mirror and was shocked that there was no mirror in place.

The father left the family about a year after the birth of his daughter. Before that, we lived together for a year. For me, the departure of my husband was a real shock. There were no scandals in our family. But my husband just picked up and left. On Friday evening after work, he came home with a friend. A friend was waiting for him in the car. My husband came home and said he was leaving me. I started collecting things. I sat with my daughter on the couch and could not believe the reality of what was happening. I couldn't watch my husband shoveling his clothes into bags. I took my daughter and went with her to the kitchen. Just needed to feed the baby.

I decided to write here to convey to people not only my position, but also the position of many doctors. Many patients believe that doctors are indifferent to human lives feelings, suffering. As if the profession suppresses everything human in doctors and as if we are not capable of sympathy. This is not true.

Lived with my wife for 10 years. But a year ago, scandals began. As if we are fulfilling some kind of plan: every month we swear a couple of times. The last time is like this at all ... Take your wife, and tell me: "You can roll out of the family, but the children are not yours at all." If you don’t know how to make a person feel disgusting, then say that the children you love are not from him.

Good afternoon. I have been living in Australia for the last 5 years. I myself am from Ukraine. My hometown is Chernivtsi. For a long time I was looking for a country to move to. I think it's worth telling what prompted me to move.

Firstly, I was looking for a country where I could raise children and be sure that tomorrow everything would not go to hell. Secondly, I just got desperate with the search normal operation in Chernivtsi. Many of my friends went to work in neighboring Poland. I did not want to work around the clock in greenhouses or on some mushroom farm, and in the end get a little more than I would have earned in Ukraine.

At first I wanted to indicate the name and surname of my brother, but he did not allow it. Shame on him. So I will write like this. This story is primarily directed to people who believe that there will be nothing bright and good in their life.

She has lived all her life in the Voronezh region. Raised three children. Now I am 58 years old. It seems that I don’t feel like an old woman, I try not to attach importance to sores, chronic fatigue. But I feel that in just a few more years I will finally give up my positions.

My classmates used to call me Dilda in high school. At the age of 16, I already had a height of 195 cm. I did not play basketball or volleyball. Apparently, because of the good food or radiation, she waved such a thing. At first they called names on the sly, and then they openly called me a tall one. I couldn't stand my classmates. The tallest guy in our class did not even reach 190 cm.

All my life I worked on one large site. We used to have a print edition. Now only the sites remain.

Most of the people we have are in the state, but there are also remote workers (mostly designers, a system administrator and a few copywriters, they recently began to attract programmers). All remote workers work after the fact: they completed a certain amount of work at an agreed rate - at the end of the month we send money to an electronic wallet or card.