[Archive c 17.03.2008] Humour [Archive to 28.04.2012] - page 170

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Shit, the principal came in, saw me playing LineAge ... five minutes later... asked me to come into his office...
<Someone> You looking for a job?
Nah... he sold me an armour %) for 12k... expensive ... but I had no choice...
 

The roof

This is a true story. Sergei (we changed his name at his request) worked for a long time as an operative in one of Moscow's UBOP. Then he retired and opened his own bakery-confectionery business. He works for a month, works another, and then two dashing dzhigits show up at his door.
Children of the mountains immediately take the bull by the horns:
- "You owe us a doughnut.
- What for?
- Mi yer kresha.
- How much money?
- Ten thousand.
Well, Seryoga thinks, you'll get your money.
Guys, I understand, but I don't have that much money here, it's one of my sales outlets, and I keep the big cash in the office, let's go there, I'll take you to my cashier, he'll give you everything.
The bandits' eyes lit up: a chain of outlets, an office in the centre! "Now, they think, we'll screw the businessman for all he's worth."
Seryoga, not to be a fool, gets in the car and takes the thugs to his home UBOP. And there the redecoration was in full swing, the facade was being renewed, the sign was removed, the corridors were filled with putty and paint.
They enter the building. Seryoga is full of acquaintances: he left six months ago. Everybody says hello to him, shakes his hand. The brothers strut their stuff, the UBop operatives stare at them, unable to understand what is going on.
- Seryoga, who is it?
- It's my roof, we're going to the cashier for money.
The operators smiled amiably at the goons and followed the trio unhurriedly. Meanwhile Sergei led the jigits to the office of his former boss. They went in, said hello. The former detective, pointing to a man sitting in an armchair, said to the louts:
- Well, this is the man I was telling you about.
- Hey, you owe us money, the highlanders turned on the colonel.
A senior officer of the department for combating organized crime looks at the dzhigits and can't understand what's going on.
- What's the money for?
- What for? For the roof.
- We transferred the money for the roof to your account at the end of last week.
There's a group of convulsed operatives gathered around the ajar door.
- Uh, what's the bill, asshole! Twenty thousand!
- Sereg, what are these clowns?
- As what? The roof, didn't you understand?
The colonel had an epiphany! He trembled and without taking his eyes off the jeigits, began frantically rummaging through the drawers of the table.
At last the service pistol was found.
- I'll put you bastards down right here!
- Don't scare us with that gun, give us the money, there'll be problems.
The operatives in the corridor were already crawling on the floor, trying with all their might to contain their fits of Homeric laughter.
In spite of their bravado, the sight of the gun was beginning to awaken a glimmer of intelligence in the hapless brats. Turning around at the laughter of the cops, they felt somehow uncomfortable.
- Do you guys know what the UBOP is? Smile, you are being hidden by a hidden camera, Seryoga told the Caucasians.
After a minute the policemen, wiping away their tears, grabbed the dzhigits and led them out of the room.
- Seryi, if you worked for me now, I'd give you a whipping for such a joke, was all the colonel could squeeze out.
 

The benefits of assembly foam

The story happened this morning, or to be more precise, it started a week ago. Our house is quiet and peaceful, no one screams at night, no drunken neighbours can be heard, and I'd forgotten how Serdyuchka sings. But a week ago, one of the young bullheads decided to customize his niner. He put all sorts of wraps and fenders on it (ugly guy would have done better if he had welded the body, it was all rotten). Well, the bodykit's no big deal, but this freak put a straight-through muffler with a roar like a Su-29 on takeoff, and stuffed a bunch of loudspeakers into this trough... ...and every night this asshole would come in at 2:00 with some, uh... women under the windows, open the doors, and they'd sit there drinking beer, cracking sunflower seeds, and laughing like a herd of wild gangsters. In addition, the chanson was on, and periodically there was a demonstration engine revving at idling speed.

Tonight the scenario was repeated one by one as every night before, the only difference being that apart from the usual entertainment they made a micro-scene of German pornography in the car.

But we were lucky, the dude had more balls than he had means and in 10 minutes the orgy was over and the couple went home with a wild roar.

To cut a long story short, I did not sleep well again that night and in the morning I was thoroughly pissed and crumpled up, and so was my wife. We had breakfast, got ready for work and as soon as we got out of the closet we heard a wild yell and a lot of profanity (which was a good addition to our vocabulary).

My wife and I go around the corner and we see ahh.... ... picture! It is standing this trough with an index 2109, and around it this young bull, all red: somebody blew out at night assembly foam like Macrofleks in his tricked-out direct-flow muffler, and how he blew out! The end of the muffler looked more like an ice-cream cone. And on the rear window, there was a big red marker saying, "Blow out the whole interior tomorrow, enough foam!!!"
 

I remember at work a year and a half ago, my bosses were banging on my ears that I should work for my pension and I could only say: I don't play games with the state for money

September 25, 2008. http://www. rg.ru/2008/09/25/pensia.html

June 18, 2010 http://top.rbc.ru/economics/18/06/2010/423537.shtml

hmm, as they say, business and nothing personal :)

 

Nice dismissal, no doubt about it :)

The storekeeper in our organisation resigned with humour. I think I had to sign a bypass sheet, hand over the property... He just came in drunk, handed over his statement, said goodbye, handed the general manager a lollipop, and left. He didn't seem to have insulted anyone, but he said what he wanted to say in full.
 
drknn:

Nice dismissal, no doubt about it :)

The storekeeper in our organisation resigned with humour. I think I had to sign a bypass sheet, hand over the property... He just came in drunk, handed over his statement, said goodbye, handed the general manager a lollipop, and left. He didn't seem to insult anybody, but he said what he wanted to say in full.
Who has the employment book?
 

Sound attack: how to wean a neighbor to love music

Lived in our house...

. . . No, he got me. Even so: he got me!!!! No, I, naive, thought - it will come to him .... Hy, at least for the 75th time, but it will come ... I was hoping ... I am quiet, peaceful, modest ... Naive ...

Part one: "WE TEACH WORKERS TO TALK".

This whole story started about a month ago. Behind the wall of my apartment "a wonderful neighbor has settled." A young guy, not many years old, the number of years is approximately equal to the specific mass of the brain in his cranium. As our platoon commander used to say in the distant times of my memorable service in the valiant ranks of the internal troops: "X-ray showed, comrade soldier, that your head cannot hurt. What hurts there is a bone !!!"

So, this fellow got into the habit of turning on the music center at full power in terms of listening to music radio stations. Hy, he would have listened to the "VVS" or, at worst, the "German Wave" from Cologne. No, he put "Radio Chanson" at full volume, and he did it exclusively from 23:00 to 04:00. I don’t know why he couldn’t sleep at night, and why he needed such a musical arrangement ... No one really bothered with his musical predilection, because so far it was SMOOTH ....

But one day ... One day, leaving the apartment in the morning, I saw on the stairwell, near the chute, a cardboard box with a volume of about a cubic meter, on the side of which a super-duper mighty newest music center was painted. Let's call it, for example, "GNUSMAS-LJ4100". And on the side of the box in such a playful font is the line: "160 watts of acoustic power." What is 160 watts, I think, it is not necessary to explain, this is enough for Tutankhamun to wake up in his tomb.

"KAPETS" - I thought, and I was right.

That night, chanson songs seemed to be sung right into my ears. How I endured it (night) I do not remember. I only remember that at 4 in the morning I somehow fell asleep, and at 8 I already got to work, and, feeling myself, I realized that I simply could not survive the second such night. But I wouldn't be a radio amateur if I hadn't found an antidote. The whole evening of that day was spent on the manufacture of an ingenious device. As a result, from under the soldering iron were born: a radio microphone, a small amplifier and a small speech effects generator, such as a reverberator. At 23:00 160 watts announced to the whole house that "Radio Chanson" lives and prospers. At 23:45 I finished soldering the last board and started setting up the entire household. At 00:15, some chansonette informed all the neighbors, and the whole house that she was "the daughter of a chamberlain, a black mouse and a flying moth." At 00:22 ... At 00:22 HIS music center spoke in a lively robot voice with metallic notes in his voice. From the speakers came: "Dear host!!!! The center of artificial intelligence and logic control of the music center "GNUSMAS LJ4100" welcomes you!!!! Listen to the emergency message about the operation of the system: You have brought your new music center GNUSMAS LJ4100" to the maximum operating mode . I inform you that if the output power is not reduced, then after 145 seconds, overheating and breakdown of the amplifier output stage transistors will occur. What will entail the failure of the amplifier. This situation is not a service situation, and out-of-warranty repairs will be made solely at your expense."

... At 00:22:30, the volume of the song was lowered so much that I didn't even hear who was singing behind this "black moth".... The neighbor's music center played t-and-e-ho... Almost inaudibly. .. And finally it was possible to sleep peacefully...

... So two nights passed .... I thought, it dawned on him and now all the neighbors will sleep peacefully .. Naive ...

...Two nights have passed. On the third night, the house habitually shuddered under the call signs "Radio Chanson". I realized that the young friend had guessed to call the Moscow service center of the "GNUSMAS" company, where he was told that they had not yet mastered the art of making talking logical-intellectual music centers. Of course, I was tempted to go on the air again on this frequency and declare in the voice of the music center that he got a prototype with intelligence, but ... This would be a repetition of the event, and I don’t like to repeat it twice. Therefore, I again spent the whole next evening surrounded by radio components and rosin haze from a soldering iron ...

PART TWO: "NO RUSHES ARE HEARD IN THE GARDEN"

Epigraph: "A newcomer gets a job in the brigade of lumberjacks. Such an unprepossessing, flimsy little man. The harsh Siberian lumberjacks laugh and give him a plot. His first working day passes, they go there .... And they see that not a single one is left on a huge square the trees are all slanted, only the stumps are sticking out.
- Man! Where did you work before???
- In the Sahara!
- So in the same place - a desert, there is no forest !!!
- And it won't be here...

I spent the whole next evening with a soldering iron and a smoke of rosin. As a result, something was born from under the tip of the soldering iron, to which I assigned the conditional name "Good night, kids." Note that from the very beginning I did not want anyone's blood, so at first I managed with harmless things. So, this time a special surprise was prepared. Here it should be noted that our house is quite old, and all the electrical wiring is done at the level of a student of the first course of a vocational school - for each apartment there are two bagging machines ("plugs"). One - for lighting, the other - for sockets. At six o'clock in the morning, I, like a thief in the night, crept to the electrical switchboard on the landing and hung a bug on its socket box. This bug was quite harmless and was just an ordinary timer that controls the electrical circuit. That is, at a given time, he de-energized the circuit, and at the second given time, he turned it on again.
Guessed? Exactly! Turn off at 23:00, turn on at 05:00. No intelligence is needed here. Know for yourself, piece of iron, count the time, but click with a relay. Naturally, he was carefully disguised in the cobweb-dusty depths of the shield.
That evening, my neighbor had the first guesses that "something is wrong here": exactly at 23:00, when his fingers were already reaching for the "Power" button on the "Gnusmasa" panel, my bug turned on and .. right, de-energized all the sockets in his apartment. From behind the wall came the cry of a salmon during the mating season... I don't know what happened next - I calmly fell asleep. Like all neighbors within a radius of three apartments up, down, right and left from the epicenter of salmon spawning.

I learned about the further development of events only the next evening, returning from work, from the grandmothers living on a bench at the entrance. You know, a kind of yard tribunal who knows everything and everyone. So, this spawning salmon, this sprat is mating, rushed up the stairs, clicked the bag bag to no avail and rushed to the control room of our ZhEK. Naturally, the duty officer met him at midnight with open arms, promising to send an electrician "as soon as possible." As you already understood, at 06:00 my bug turned everything back on, at 08:00 an electrician came, looked askance at the client and demanded a fyfyp for a false call. On the next evening, everything, of course, repeated itself. At 23:00, the sockets went off, the salmon let out a spawning roar and rushed to the housing office .. There they demanded a certificate from the PND, but promised to send an electrician again. The electrician came at 08:00 and... Got another fyfyp for a false call. On the third night, everything repeated itself, as written. This time, the electrician thought about it, and promised to disassemble the whole house into its component panels until he gets to the bottom of the reasons for this unique natural phenomenon. It was pointless to play the timers further, and early in the morning I took it off.

Surely there are people among you who remember the good old days of stagnation, when radio stations such as "Freedom", "Voice of America", "German Wave" were heard in the USSR, but through a terrible howl and squeak - they were muffled, sir ... Assemble the generator of "white noise" - a trifling matter. And now: another evening, 23:00, "RA-A-A-ADIO-O-O CHANCE-O-OH!!!" And immediately after that - "P-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh- Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh-Sh...

... No, I thought - it will come to him ...

I had to sleep for a short time - it turned out that this comrade's musical tastes are not limited to one blatnyak. He calmly tuned in to "Our Radio", and at THREE O'clock in the morning I was awakened by a heavenly voice that reached me from behind the wall, which seemed to me the most reliable recipe: "Do you want me to kill the neighbors that interfere with sleep ?!". "That's it," I thought, thanks for the offer. Now I know what to do. From that moment on, guerrilla warfare passed into the stage of positional warfare. By the way, do you know what the Belarusian partisans did? They smeared the rails with grease, and the fascist echelons with food slowed down only in Vladivostok ... Hy, I drowned out "Radio Chanson" to him. So he, the bastard, tuned in to a different frequency. Am I now chasing him all night long all night long? A spinner in hand, a skein of copper wire around the neck, and for the next evening, a little-a-asenky circuit was ready. Imagine that you are in a dark room, your eyes are accustomed to the darkness, and at this time you are looking at your eyes from a spotlight! This is what I did with the tuner of his "Gnusmasa" - simply, but with taste, quietly and sadly brought the contour to the wall, behind which this enemy "Gnusmas" was located, crossed himself, spat and vpybil ... Of course, as I expected, burned his input stage. That is, the receiver does not accept anything, because it cannot. I thought, he will drag him to the service center, until this and that, until they fix it - a week of restful sleep is guaranteed ...

... Naive...

PART THREE: "AND AROUND - SUCH SILENCE THAT WE NEVER DREAME !!!"

Epigraph: "Somehow they bought a Japanese chainsaw for harsh Siberian loggers. They gathered in a circle of loggers, decided to test it. They brought it in, slipped a tree on it. "Whack" - said the Japanese saw. "Heh" - said the loggers. They gave her a thicker tree. " Vzh-zh-zhik!" - said the saw. "Heh" - said the lumberjacks. They slipped her the thickest cedar. - said the lumberjacks. They gave her an iron crowbar. "Crack!" - said the saw. "That's the same !!!" - said the gray Siberian lumberjacks!

What are you surprised about? This is my phone. Hy, I like steam locomotives, so I made it so that my phone does not ring, but buzzes like the Ovechka steam locomotive at the Kazan station in distant times ... By the way, have you heard how steam locomotives hum? Now this is a great rarity ... Although the horn of modern electric locomotives is not weaker. It is called - typhon. Here I have one friend, the driver of the "ChS" electric locomotive. An electric locomotive of Czech production, the railway workers themselves affectionately call it "Czech". So he once said: "- Somehow my team - me and the assistant - took a shift - at the station got into the "Chekha", took it from the previous team, checked all the systems and began to wait for departure. And there was time somewhere - then around midnight, darkness, somewhere at the station lights are on, and we, at the exit from the station, are practically gouged out. Only the exit semaphores shine with red eyes. a peasant, and judging by everyone, is looking for a place to sit down. And he didn’t find anything better than to sit down right in the middle of the rail, on the tracks, about 20 meters from us. in the weak light of semaphores, these two lunarly whitening hemispheres, and I decide to cheer up that man a little, so that it would not be boring to sit. our yelling like a "Challenger" on takeoff. imagine: you are sitting, as it seems to you, in an open field, and suddenly there is a roar, a roar, a light, and a train scratches at you from behind under full steam... , like a hare, in a straight line, dropping on the go the remnants of the contents. It was such a feeling that "in a big way" this time he went a week ahead. As they say, if you didn’t want something, you had to. We woke up only when we heard the displeased voice of the dispatcher from the train radio: "- Four hundred-... tsaty!!! What the hell are you waiting for and why aren't you leaving ???"

Hy, in general, my phone buzzed. "Hello, I'm in the tube" - and you hear the voice of your old friend Drossel. Hy, who is Throttle - this should be told separately, this is a separate story of five pages. If it fits. I briefly...

We met him back in our pioneer youth, in a radio club at the Station of Young Technicians. At one time there were such out-of-school institutions that united young people who wanted to create. There were different clubs and sections, karting and ship modellers, aircraft designers and young astronomers, a soft toy club and our radio club and another thirty mugs for every taste and color. So, in a mug of soft toys there was such a girl Lenochka, the first beauty not only of our SYUT, but, perhaps, of the whole region. And astronomers and eternally grimy kartingists dried up over it, and even young chemists devoted their reactions to it, not always successful ...

And somehow, closer to spring, the management decided to organize an exhibition of achievements of young talents in the foyer of the Station. All the clubs were preparing for it, but the "soft toys" turned out best of all. And the crown of creation, the most central exhibit was a huge hare, made by Lenochka. He proudly sat on his stand in the very center of the forthcoming exhibition, which opened tomorrow, on Saturday. It was Friday evening. Yurka-Drossel walked pensively past the hare for half a day and calculated something. I tried to distract him: "- Drop this thing, Yurets, who are you and I - soldering irons! And she ... Let's go better, we'll work out with a morse." But he was more thoughtful than ever ... In short, on Friday evening he managed to take this hare out of the exhibition, and on Saturday morning the hare was already sitting in its rightful place. And now, the solemn opening of the exhibition of students' creativity, all in ceremonial pioneer uniforms, the director of the SYUT makes a fiery speech, behind him are methodologists with diplomas and prizes already prepared, and, as you know, the first place is Lenkin's hare. And so the director broadcasts: "- We are pleased to award the first prize for skill and ability, for the feeling of beauty and hard work of the author of this cute bunny, Lenochka ..." At this time, Yurka quietly presses the button on the remote control, the hare in front of everyone begins to squeal wildly , sparkles with red eyes and puts his right paw to his chest ... There is confusion in the leadership camp - no one expected humanization from a plush hare - and Lenka takes off, grabs the hare by the hind paw and slams Yurts on the pumpkin with all his might, squealing: "- Dypak!!! KRETIH! ! ! ! ! Ruined the first place!!!". In short, the entire SUT watched this picture, breaking up the formation and laughing heartily, as Lenka drove Yurka across the entire territory, hitting him mercilessly on the head with a hare ... Then they disappeared around the corner of the building ... The director of the SUT quickly wrapped up the ceremony, and, grunting , retired to his office. Together with the Methodists. What happened next, around the corner - history is silent ...

Now Yurka and Lena have three children, in their apartment in a large room in the most prominent place sits an aged and bald hare, Drossel himself is a two-time European champion, master of sports, his wife, Lena is also a master of sports, Champion of Russia in short radio communications waves, but in his spare time he sometimes sews soft plush animals, which are played with pleasure by two sweet-daughters and a wild son. In those moments when their parents do not let them work at the amateur radio station... In a fit of tenderness, Yurka calls his wife affectionately: "Modulation"...

So, the phone is buzzing, in the tube - Throttle. "Hello, how are you?" "- Gradually and highly morally" - I answer. "Something You are thoughtful" - Yurets utters. "Yes, you see, a wonderful person settled in our house ..." - and I present to him a short version of events. "Hy, and you?" he asks. "And I'm at a dead end. I have no humane options left" - I answer. "So" - broadcasts Throttle - "Do not touch anything, go for beer, I'll be in an hour and a half." "And the wife?" I ask. "And today there are competitions among women on the Cup of the Volga region, now until tomorrow evening you won't drag her away from the radio station for nothing. And the children are sleeping. So I'll be with you soon." Hy, nothing to do, went for a beer. At midnight, Throttle tumbles in. In one hand - a package with dried fish and squid, in the other - something bulky, evoking thoughts of a portable nuclear reactor. "What is it?" I ask and poke my finger into the bundle. "Throttle!" - Drossel answers artlessly. "And what are we going to do with him?" - "You will see right away. Pour beer." After the third mug of beer, the howls coming from behind the wall even seemed pretty to us: "And on the bench, on the bench, it's a pokyp-p-pora ...". "It's time" - said Yurets, took out his choke, attached two wires to it and put them into sockets. Silence fell behind the wall....
"What did you do, Drossel?" - I asked languidly. “Yes, nothing special. You already burned the tuner, so he listens to cassettes. And now my choke has quietly and sadly demagnetized all his cassettes.

M-yes-ah... God knows, I didn't want war. No, I thought - it will reach him ... Naive ...

Behind the wall there was some indistinct grunting. Apparently, the defendant realized that something was wrong here. Since the radio is not playing and the cassettes are not heard. But five minutes later, another thieves' song informed the house that the patient was more alive than dead. "It's useless, Yupets!" - I said, "- He still has CDs for sure, but you can't argue against a laser." "HEH!" said Throttle and went to my kitchen. He returned from there with a microwave oven in his hands. "Maybe we should not?" I pleaded. "We must, Fedya, we must!" - Throttle said with taste ... ... There was a grumbling behind the wall, as if in the place of "Gnusmasa" there was an oven with an appetizingly roasted chicken ...

And there was silence...

"Kapets" - said Yurets - "Khana kitten, there will be no more writing. By the way, come on, since no one bothers us, let's have a beer and listen to the radio broadcast, how my competitor wets there."

. . .And now the morning of Sunday has come. The sun came out and saw a wonderful picture. It saw an old prefabricated house, a dude dragging the GNUSMAS-LJ4100 music center to the dump, looking like he was in the center of Hiroshima in 1945, and two dudes in the third floor window, with bottles of beer in their hands, quietly singing:

"A-ah-ah-ah wokpy-yy-yg ta-aka-ah-ah silence-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah" ....
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