I do not cease to be surprised this city. Moscow is simply populated by beautiful women. In the city center, their concentration is prohibitive. Right, anyway. One only saddened this trip - the legs, worn to the eggs. I managed to wear new shoes in Moscow!

Here is a funny incident with beautiful women ...

Our seminar was held in the very center in the hotel Marriott Aurora. There is a very good system of halls for presentations and seminars.

In the hall next to our seminar were shooting the next tele-madness. There is such a singer on our Russian scene - Igor Nikolaev - more like a cat with vague mustaches and chemical hair - the general creator of rich-bodied singer Natasha Koroleva. In the opinion of the restless creators of the show, Nikolaev needs a woman right now — and he is chosen for it (this is the essence of the show — I don’t know the name — it is on TV once a week). This show was filmed in the border with our hall.

As extras, girls were caught up — about a hundred — not less. Everything is like a selection - legs from the armpits - painted in a fighting way - they are dressed differently and barely, they are 20 years old. The shooting of the show started a little after our seminar and at the first coffee break the good "seminarians" had the good fortune to see this colorful company.

The girls by this time were lined up in a long line - registration was in full swing - probably the girls should be paid a little for the show. Along the line-up walked a fat-bodied producer, with all his appearance being a nasty mood interspersed with Moscow businesslikeness. He growled something indistinctly, pushing (organizing) the line in the direction of the nearest wall.

Obviously, the shooting of this rubbish was perceived by the girls at the same time, and as casting. There were a lot of unfamiliar people around, and the pattern of decently dressed men in ties, suddenly spilling out of a neighboring hall, attracted the predatory attention of the hunters. I realized this later, but at that moment, I must admit, I was a bit stunned. The girls gave me languid glances, flexed their way around, twisted their neat ass ... First of all, I thought that my fly was not buttoned. No, the fly was ok ...

A little pribaldevyi, along the line of women who exhibit sexual activity that was inexplicable at that time, I proceeded to the toilet. Returning from there, I witnessed the next event. For the participants of our seminar were organized tables with varied snacks. The girls, seizing the moment, tried to profit from this grub. Given the frightening number and spontaneous herding of the participants of the show, our seminar was under real threat of deprivation of unpretentious coffee breaks. The organizers and owners of our seminar, the good English, understood the imminent danger in time, but being in a state of “no-boom-boom in Russian” only waved their hands languidly and smiled absurdly in the direction of the television producers.

The next moment, the producer focused his expensive attention on the vain attempts of our Anglicos to save food, after another moment his brain appreciated the chaos that his wards tried to make. “Fuck you bitches foolish! “What kind of a goat are you?”, The producer loudly turned to the chewing crowd. With these words, he showed agility, unexpected for his zinginess, jumped to the nearest flock of girls and began to drive them away from the trough with short, precise football kicks. The producer’s actions horrified the show-girls. Coffe breaks were saved.

Our computer scientists English remained at a loss. For some time they, in a low voice talking to each other, respectfully looked at the amazing Russian producer, who, for all his lacklusterness, possesses such an indisputable power of persuading beautiful women. Knows the cock word?