Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Rabbit In Spring

Spring, his blood is up...

Old parcel blind rabbit understands that may be, last spring in his life is. Nature win out this days and even dry spring comes alive.

So rabbit felt long-forgotten attraction. Oh, a miracle! He already had not hope to feel in himself this sweet languor. Unknown currents, fled through his old joints and forced to seek… What to seek? Rabbit was already so old… What did forget? What is the GOAL?

But the instincts told old paws where they should go to, Rab overcame the threshold of the shed, put nose to wait to see which way the wind will blow and felt a familiar smell, yes, that's for sure! He could not make mistake!

Directly under the beds of firewood was SHE!!! )She smelt of tenderness and passion. Youth and energy were distributed from her by the invisible fluids. Rab did not believe his parcel blind eyes that he piled up such a happiness, he had not seen such a beauty even in his best years.

Without hesitation, and long conversations hungry Rab perched on "Goddess" and began the act of towering love (of course, for how much his age allowed). It seemed that it was the most beautiful moment in his long-eared life and it was not so good as at this LAST time! It took him 2 minutes, which seemed to be eternity. And it happened…. The weakness and appeasement came into the senile body. Life was finished fittingly, rabbit became to fall asleep in sweet dreams, partaking of his "goddess" aroma.

"Mummy! Mummy!!", - little girl was shouting, I found your chalets, it fell behind the stack! The woman came closer and unsightly picture opened before her eyes: the old shabby Rab, which just now did a violence to her piece of wardrobe in most vile way, was sunbathing in the spring sun…

There was a bright spring day, all things revived and boiled up...


Monday, April 28, 2008

Love Сan Not Be Compelled.

She calmly took attentions of decent and secured young man with serious intentions, although she was anything but pleased. And may be she would be accustomed to him, unless exactly in two weeks of their sufficiently vapid romance he had offered his hand and heart…

More precisely, he did not even propose, but noted as a fact that they gather in a month, and by the end of summer will play a wedding. Her anger has reached the highest point. After all, firstly, she had not something positive attitude to the weddings, but most of all she hated, when the decisions were making for her; secondly, the newly groom himself galled her - despite the fact that he was sufficiently high office-bearer and was older than her.

In the relations he was interested in romantic side only - the embrace and kiss under the moon, while she was interested in intelligent men only. And, thirdly…

Third, everything could be more smoothly and more mercenarily, unless she fell in love. Girlfriends just shrugs shoulders: to banish a well provided young man ( "so what, that he is not very clever, but performs all your requests!") for the sake of an advanced in years intellectual with bad temper and diseased liver.

Of course, girls who preferred the wealthy "dads" or sultry Macho, overdone. Yes, indeed her lover had seen and experienced too much, but he was so thin man, that her "defense" soon collapsed. Yes, he was quite different in society rather than with her alone (whether we all do not play the different roles in different situations?). He was very often grave and pert, reputed womanizer and tippler, but his books and his eyes were impregnated with intolerable pain and tenderness, skillfully guised by sarcasm and self-irony. His anxious attitude to her has led to forget even that he was in the age of her father.

And she forgot. She entirely gave herself up to love, hardly not the first time in the life, demanding nothing in return. She banished her beau, quite coldly explaining all reasons except one. Immediately afterwards, the refreshing wave of freedom poured over her from top to toe, in one minute she recovered her habitual life. And how cool it was!


A Prince From Nowhere.

"Hi, do authorize me, we'll get acquainted"

"What to thank for?"

"I saw your picture in Internet couldn't efford not react, not respond"

For the first time in the life she has allowed without wasting words authorization in ICQ, in five minutes she found photo in her mailbox, and in the next half an hour she dictated her phone number.

Everything was too easy and too strange: a young man met without any stupidity, talked in quite normal literary language (that was a very important factor for her), several times a day called her and in the end, invited to the restaurant. She sat in front of the monitor at the end of the working day and could not understand why did she agree to everything and such at once. No, this was not because she would like to establish personal life so that it was necessary to cling the first hit straw, not because of the fact that she was too boring to live in recent years - none. Maybe, she thought, it was such a coincidence that may to appear more real than all those relations that she had before? Who knows…

She could not say that the photograph had made her impressed too particularly - no, she rather more liked his voice. Usually, if she liked a man, she quite differently considered his image, not went to last this long, not so carefully - this is not the case, in general.

What was the unknown force, which had not let her abandon the meeting and in general - send a stranger to all goddam? Gambling? Adventurism? Thirst of adventure?

Time will tell, and for now - this is so cool, to sit at the monitor and wait for appearance of mysterious Prince, who this time will not force to wait for a long and will be exactly at 9.


Sunday, April 27, 2008

Are You Spoiled By The Progress?

You are spoiled by progress, if:

1. You discover that you try to enter your password for system access for microwave.
2. You're browsing a list of the 15 numbers to communicate with your family, which consists of only three people.
3. You write a message by e-mail to a colleague, who sits at the next table.
4. It is impossible for you to contact your friends, because they do not have email addresses.
5. After the working day you being home answer the questions by telephone as if you have been at work.
7. You fall into panic, if you left home without your mobile phone, and you have to back for it.
8. First you do after waking up every morning is to connect to the Internet, while your cup of coffee is making ready.
9. You'd better get acquainted with ten girls in the Internet than with the only one from the next apartment.
10. You incline your head to the left side for to smile :-)
11. Now reading this text you agree with it and smiling
12. Even worse: you already know to whom you will send this message
13. You're so fascinated, that did not note - the number 6 in this list is missing
14. You need only a second to run through the message to make sure that number 6 is really missing.
AND NOW YOU LAUGH. Come on, send this to yours! ))


Parable of Internet. Story Of Dating.

By Elizabet.

It is responsible for our acquaintance - Website damochka.ru. If more precisely - a virtual semblance of the game "Love at a first sight", on this site called "Love at a first click" (LFC). Naturally, none of us deliberately was not looking for love here.

The game lit by its passion. Compatibility - not compatibility. Each of us played the game several times a day. Naturally there also were the overlaps with other participants of the game, and the failures have been as well.

There was a dark winter evening, an individual calling himself Piterskiy and a girl under the nick Lizaveta hit in one and the same game. That is, Slavka (he) and Lizka (me). Thus it happened that in this game we had chosen each other. After the cordial greetings the site Damochka opened top secret information to us, namely, displaied to each of us our ICQ numbers, e-mail, sites, etc. That was how we met.

We want to say to all, who do not believe that you can find your happiness in the Internet. "Opinion, that in the Internet there are people who are either incapable for anything, or needless and not suitable for any matter, is surely distributed by usual Losers, the old grandmothers, and people more or less distant from modern technology. The Internet, including chat rooms, dating sites etc. is completely full of interesting, funny and smart people. Do make the acquaintance, do love, and do not part with one another!


Saturday, April 26, 2008

Woman's Secret.

Women's secrets are short-lived that's right truth is truth. But there is a secret, where a woman is harder then diamond. This is: how old is a woman? She would pass more willingly through the flame or step by foot on the fragile ice, probably will rather go down in a cage with lions than name her age correctly.

And if his thought would be, could become, even evil Satan would want to understand the age of women, then he would spit and began to stutter, the picture would be the same. In the pink of youth neither chink nor even small a crack are between the age of the woman and her various papers' age. All are equal - step in step. Then such a process occurs (no, no! Entirely without her diligence!) Suddenly a "backlog" appears, so to say "a little inconsistency". The passport still goes forward, but woman is like not eager for ahead! First she is one year behind of passports, then manages to be behind for two years… I must say that she succeeds the best in such a way. And somewhere by thirty, has been to see, three years could no longer be found, as if it blows them away by wind to clear out.
And now, of course, any conversation about figures will not help. The most meticulous auditor would die, but could not find anything!And the further, neither the heart nor hand, most certainly, does suffer from stinginess. And now by forty entire five years, chuckling slightly, mysteriously disappear… Forty!
Mysterious border.
Here, every normal counting ends, because what a year may have gone, but only woman elder than forty is not enforceable! Let the time pass forward somewhere and the passport stoops and toils into a darkness, a woman does not need all this. A woman will always be over thirty… Believing in the eternal flames of spring, the women do not concede in battles. "Technique" is now such a strong that there are neither wrinkles nor gray hair! And I will not measure by any questionnaires the years women lived. Papers - significant nonsense, I trust in soul and deeds.

Women are still good for long time, while the figures become pale before them. The passport, of course, is much older, because the passports has no soul. If suddenly someone at least by stealth will say that a woman can wither, spit him in the eye, CLOUT and name a detractor!


Friday, April 25, 2008

Whom a girl pays for, he... oops her.

By Natalia Nevskaya.

I do not know what about others, but my mother taught me in childhood that it is indecent to accept the gifts (especially expensive) of little known men. Too generous signs of attention
- it does not cost nothing and you will have to pay. "Remember, Natasha, free cheese is in the mouse-trap only!"

Converted ungainly teenager into a luxurious blond I honestly followed mom's testament: always paid for myself in clubs, restaurants and taxis, refused the expensive gifts and in general, perceived the men's purse as a threat to my freedom. Freud, halloo! The only thing I allowed to my ill-starred fans was to give me something on March 8, or bouquet of moderate price on a birthday. To waive flowers was above my forces.

To say that my cavaliers were flowing into the stupor of such behavior - that's nothing to say. Every time they explained that nothing required in return from me, that not being allowed to pay for their girl and to give her gifts, they cease to feel men. How to care then? To serve a coat, kiss hands and no more left? But I was unwavering. Eventually, I can afford to pay myself for my whims. And will never be obliged to anyone!

It would continue till now, unless the story.

Three years ago, I have been taking off on the dizzying career ladder. I started to earn very decent money and, of course, immediately acquired the bourgeois habits. Every weekend my girlfriend and I went to play around to St. Petersburg, because Moscow clubs and parties were studied along and across long ago.

To travel between the two capitals the most convenient way was (and remains today) the corporate train R-200. Only 4.5 hours and you already are on the Nevsky Prospectus. Alas, like all the good, the tickets to this train shorted too quickly on Fridays. But we solved the problem with the help of a conductor Vasya. At that time the total inspections for free-riders were not in fashion, and for immoderate huge fee, kind Vasya allowed us without a ticket. We quickly fled to the wagon-restaurant and during whole the trip were sitting at the table, drinking "Mojito". Already on Friday evening we took off the train in St. Petersburg and went elated to a further party.

By the way, there were advantages in a such "restaurant" journey - you could easily make interesting acquaintances, that we were doing. Now, I do not remember, it was the third or fourth trip, in general, it is not important.

Once, Max took a seat at our table. Blue-eyed dark-haired man, an owner of a small design firm in St.Petersburg, witty and gallant - a dream rather than a fellow-traveler. We both at that time had no permanent cavaliers, so Max aroused understandable recovery in our midst. During the whole trip he amused us with anecdotes alternated with compliments, successfully made eyes at us - so that no one did not offend.

By the end of the trip we have not yet managed to decide who of us likes him stronger and which has made a greater impression on him. In short, we came to St. Petersburg having one over the eight and in full delight of our satellite. We were lit up enough for another ten people, so that it was instantly decided not to part and go to the club "Purga" to celebrate "New Year". In this beautiful place New Year was celebrated every midnight, filling on a free glass of champagne to all the visitors.

All would be nothing, but it turned out that by the end of our journey Max became out of money. We started strongly to wave at him - we have no finance shackles, OK! We are girls without complex, and can afford to buy a pair of glasses for the satellite. No problem! Max had tried to refuse, said that never in the lives the girls pay for him, and they will never pay - he is a man, but not Alphonse... But what can the only intelligent Petersburger do against two pushing Muscovites which got worked up? We pelted him with compliments, expressed the respect to his unequivocal masculinity, exerted on the sense of responsibility, saying, what if suddenly someone would resentment us in a foreign city, and it was in the bag.

Already an hour later we dashingly danced with zest at a discotheque, regularly heating ourselves with cocktails. Max showed the tricks with burning the strong drinks and danced rock'n'roll professionally both with us simultaneously, so that we just almost quarrel for whom this wonder-man will belong to.

Close to six in the morning the forces left us. We made up our mind to leave to the hotel, but pre-arranged a mini-meeting about who of us will leave Max her phone number. But we could not resolve this vital issue - a nightmare began. Our dear and unobtrusive satellite turned like braked loose. Whether a surplus of alcohol in the blood leaped for joy, or "cockroaches" intensified in the brain, one way or another, he knelt to us and beg that we allowed him to go with us...

First I did not catch what was the beginning of the strife but when I lend an attentive ear to his incoherent babble I got torpor. It turns out that our Chevalier can never forgive himself that he drank at our expense, and now feels obliged and wants to compensate for the costs. Once he had no money, he is ready to give himself up fully into our disposal. He pleadingly looked into our eyes, and seeing our surprise, interpreted it in his own way: "Have no doubt, I am a good lover, I have enough forces for both of you!"

Had he said anything about our unearthly beauty and sexuality,we would understand and perhaps even inspire. But we were forced with sex for money, which were spent just without any greed!

We got sober instantly and found that none of us wants to let in the bed with a beautiful, but, to put it mildly, not quite adequate man who has so strange views on the nature of relationships between people. We were even slightly afraid - it seemed to us that our
wonderful, and absolutely incumbent until this moment satellite went crazy. In short, not engaging in further negotiations, we quickly paid the account, caught the handbags (while Max was in a toilet) and escaped.

The next day, of course, we laugh until one cries remembering yesterday's crazy proposal. The guy was afraid to look an Alphonse, but he acted as a real Alphonse - wanted to pay with sex for money spent on him! And then I reflected. I am something like him... Refusing the expensive favours of men, I also inadvertently promote a fear that it would be required from me to pay with this way. Why am I not taking into account that a person just wants to do me something nice? Just so, with no back thoughts?

Overall, I am, still, "right girl". And I still continue to think that I can pay for myself account or to invite a man for a movie at my own expense. But now I think about it guardedly. And enabling fans to spend money on me. Why not? A men has a pleasure, I am pleased ...

I don't feel obliged myself any longer. One memory of Max is enough to relax, and do not spoil the pleasure nor myself, nor the fans. If it turns out that he did something being awaiting something from me in return - it is his problem. Selfish is bad.


Big Bust, Big Problems.

By Lera Yasnaya.

Last time on TV they often show the telecasts of plastic surgery. The plot is always roughly
the same: young ladies suffering that life is failed due to the fact that she has small breasts, a doctor inserts to her a silicone implants - happy end. I wish at least once they would show an operation on the contrary. Fair to say, there are much more problems due to a large bust than a little!

Personally, I having this "wealth" am not living but suffering. This is only in porno journals the bust of the fifth size looks alluring: geometrically correct hemisphere and nipples erect. An outstanding bust of a normal women simply can not be round shape - the laws of gravity will not allow. If you do not believe it - have a look at the nudist beach.

The majority of naked women over Thirty have breast like milch cows. Well, God of them with aesthetics. I do not know about others, but I now have a back ache. First, I blamed my sedentary job, after all ten hours a day spending at a computer, but the doctor dissuaded me. He said that it is entire to blame my breast: it he says, pulls me forward, shifting the center of gravity, the load to backbone is redistributed like something wrong… He gave advice: do, girl, fitness - to build up the muscular corset to give the body resistance.

Girls with the fifth number, if you ever engaged in fitness, you'll understand my suffering. First, you have to get a special fixing bra so that nothing break loose when you run and jump. If it is to dangle - all irrevocably will hang down, I mean a bust... Made the round half-Moscow, I could not find anything decent. As a result - individual order for reckless money. Secondly, it is absolutely uncomfortable to do all exercises on the abdomen (the most useful for the back muscles). And third, I don't know whether it seemed to me or it is indeed there? The bust has become even greater of the physical exertion. At least, it already falls out from the old bra. Mother dear, what will happen if I will decide to give a birth?

In sum, the past six months, I regularly brood on the operation to reduce the breast, but nobody support me. Girlfriends turn finger at the temple. They do believe that the big breast is fashionable and cool, all high gloss magazines write so. If they were me they would rejoice. Yeah, they would be at my place. Do they know how many troubles the big breasts delivers during sex... And how the faces of lingerie store sellers stretch when you ask to match up something beautiful of 85 E. I have seen their "beautiful" bra of the size, you can hunt the bear without shotgun, if he see it - will fall from the horror .

The husband is also against the operation, said that he is quite satisfied with my bust. But I do not very trust his view , because from time to time I hear: "You know? it appears that the ideal woman's breasts should be placed entirely in the men's palms! (I am not guilty, that you have such small hands)" or "Do you know how to check whether breasts drooping or not? (I know: to put a pencil under it, unless it falls, then drooping. Stop. What do you hint at?)". It is possible, he jokes so, but I feel somehow insulting.

"Lera, well, why didn't you feel free with your bust? - the other day my colleague tried to find out, - Why do not wear low-necked dress? Big boobs - woman's pride - so be proud!" And how me to proud of something, if the breast-watermelons, I can't for the life of me, associate with Pamela Anderson, but with a seller in the meat-dairy department? No way, if in my childhood I played with Barbie, but not with the plastics pups made by toy factory in Moscow, perhaps, I would rather appreciated the wealth piled up on me. Or if it had not piled up in 12 years old but say, in 16. Then I had not felt adult aunt against the backdrop of flat classmates. Probably, old man Freud was right, all our complexes comes from childhood…

I am certainly not the complete fool. I guess that the men are not indifferent to the big bust. If only to see the statistics of the search engines queries: each month the word "bust" 149,000 Internet users are looking for, "big bust" are seeking of 18,000 sexually concerned, "great" - 5.000, a "small" - only 2,900.

However, something tells me that all this agiotage has nothing to do with specifically to me. That's if I were a model with a wasp narrow waist and thighs, as for example the former
"Blestyaschaya" Anna Semenovich, (she really is who odered the bras individually, surely!), then it is another pair of shoes. Is it worth engage in competition? And do I need it?

Well, complained to my bitter share, unburdened my heart. Now I do not even know: whether to leave everything as it is (to suffer and be proud) or venture to decreasing operation? Frankly, it is a little terrible.

I'm curious to know, is it for me along a big bust is a problem. And for all others - happiness? I do not believe...


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