user: Q: Benedykt Ossolinsky, age 39, began to grow childish. On the first day of his midlife crisis, he stood in front of the mirror examining his receding hairline and wrinkles on his face. In that very moment, while staring at his reflection he found in his eyes that mad look he had last seen thirty years ago in a photograph taken at a tethered flying model competition. The photo was taken by Henryk the servant, when his little charge decided he wanted a red biplane model Curtiss Consolidated Skyhawk Cruisader 3A "Bingo Star". This new look was also noticed by his co-workers, who for the most part, considered him to be an infantile spoiled brat. It fit with their idea of a boss. And Benedykt was indeed the boss, even though he himself couldn't quite believe it. He was the head of a foundation for the self-promotion of the Ossolinsky family, well-known descendants of Polish-American aristocrats, engaged in business ventures there, and charity work here. The position was highly honorable and very prestigious. Just as the employees didn't like Benedykt, in equal measure Benedykt didn't like his job. He considered it extremely stressful and felt it forced him to super-human sacrifices. Everything was arranged by the family as a penance for avoiding work. He had to go to the office at least three times a week for two full hours and entertain various smiling journalists, drink coffee with them and listen. He had to sign letters and open gifts from various companies hoping to win favors. And he had to play golf and attend social functions, movie premiers, shows and art exhibits. The family had only planned for three months of vacation time a year. Scandal! As a sign of protest he took to coming to the office wearing a t-shirt with the slogan "Attention, Baby!" on it. What family does Benedykt's company promote?  A. not enough information  B. Curtiss' family  C. Benedykt's family  D. Henryk's family
A: C


Q: Today is not a good day. It is my own fault of course ~ I thought I had lost weight so I stood on the scales. Once again my number was way higher than I wanted it to be and it brought all my darkest fears to the surface once again. My mind keeps telling me, “Of course this will never work!” I FEEL LIKE THE SPECIAL NEEDS KID IN CLASS I no longer feel like I am part of the ‘in’ crowd. I don’t have a gang to hang out with. I feel like I have gone weird and no-one wants to play with me anymore. If I’m not blogging about how much weight I’ve lost or how I’ve fallen head first into a binge then no-one seems to care. IT IS SO FUCKING SLOW I have been ‘off’ diet for nearly 2 months and I am still figuring things out. I haven’t lost any weight even though my intention is to drop a few kilos. I swing from perfectly happy to confused and bewildered for no apparent reason. I just want to be fixed. I want to easily achieve my naturally slender body and I want it NOW thank you very much. I MISS MY OLD LIFE When I was a very small child I used to suck my thumb. Once I stopped and I got braces my mouth shape was totally different and my thumb never fit properly again. I can still remember the comforting sensation of sucking my thumb that has now is gone forever. Same thing with my old life. I miss the control, I miss the joy of a low scale number and I miss the pride in winning against all the odds. I know it is only because I forgotten the pain … but my old life was familiar and predicitable and this one isn’t. I HAVE NOWHERE ELSE TO GO It is clear that dieting will never be a long term solution for managing my weight as I have proven over and over again in the past 5 years, so if listening to my body doesn’t work either, then I’ll have nowhere else to go … except blobsville. I feel like this is my last chance and I’m stuffing it up. What how many diets has the narrator probably been on?  A. 5  B. 8 or more  C. 3  D. not enough information
A: D


Q: I don't reckon the sun's ever come up quite the same since the day it happened. I've been watching it for years now and to me it still don't look right somehow. Maybe it's just me thinking it, sending myself doolally after what I've done. But I swear every morning it creeps up and it's looking at me, all knowing like. And when you reckon the sun's acting like that over you there isn't a right lot you can do about it, beyond burying yourself away like a mole in the soil. That's what I've been doing more or less in the score or so years that have gone by since. But however tight I shut them curtains to stop that damn sun lighting me up, it still don't stop the inside of my head from pounding out the truth. No way it's ever going to stop harassing me neither, not unless the deaf and dumb lass was to happen right back on my doorstep and give me the chance to tell her that it wasn't never meant to work out this way. The deaf and dumb lass went by the name of Mitzi Barker. Her being deaf and dumb, she was the kind of lass you went up the lane with if you didn't want no-one shouting their gob off about it after. Funny but it's the small things I recall best about her, like the way her hair reeked of bonfires and how that little old checkered dress of hers rode right up her thigh with no help from me. After we'd finished our business we'd head over the trout farm and I'd hunker down and poach us up a couple of rainbows for our tea. That Mitzi Barker, she was thin as an ear of barley and I always figured a good nosh-up was the least I could do for her troubles. At the end of the story, what happened to Mitzi barker?  A. not enough information  B. she went away  C. she died  D. they broke up


assistant: A: D