Jon's back ached. Frost had come early this year and the ground broke like stone. Jon had spent eight seasons breaking this ground to plant spring's crops and every year it got harder. Sweat beaded on his brow and he felt his cotton shirt stick to his skin under his coat. Jon took off his soft-brimmed hat and wiped his forehead. He examined the hat as he let his breath return. The hat had kept the burning sun and beating rain off his head for as long as Jon owned the farm. He wore it every day. It had been a gift given to him on the day he married Alasandra but he could not remember who gave it to him. Jon put it back on his head and pushed the tiller deep into the stubborn earth. Daven ran over the hill and down the cart path leading to their small cobblestone house. The boy had only left a short while ago and he held no sack with the bread and cheese his mother had told him to buy. Jon furrowed his brow. The boy continued to run and soon the wind carried his cry to his father's ears. "Papa! A carriage is coming! Two horses!" Jon's furrowed brow remained. Surely the boy meant a cart from a neighboring farm. No carriage made it out this far. "It's from the city! A soldier drives it!" Jon felt ice water flow over him. He turned to the house. "Sandra! Get the musket out of the pantry!" Jon saw his wife's face appear at one foggy window. Jon gestured wildly at her. "Get it!" They were too late. As Daven reached Jon, the black carriage already approached. A single figure sat on the bench, guiding the two brown horses down Jon's path. According to the above context, answer the following question. Why is Jon sweating?
OPTIONS:
- hot day
- hard labor work
- not enough information
- he is nervous
hot day

"What was your worst makeup disaster?" Do fingernails count? I hope so, because this is a good one: I was 21 years old. I worked for a major commercial airline. A friend of mine and I decided to go to Puerto Rico for a long weekend. It was our first trip to Puerto Rico. The hotel at which we stayed had a lovely (classy/expensive) restaurant serving continental fare. So, we decided to have our first dinner there. We dressed to the nines. Our hair and makeup were perfect. I had fake fingernails (not acrylic - those were fairly new back then. I had the type one glues on). Those fingernails were long, and painted a very bright - and obvious - red. When the waiter came to take our drink order, we both ordered glasses of wine. The waiter brought the wine, set it down on the table, and waited to take our meal orders. I smoked back then, and at the time, smoking was still allowed in restaurants. In a 21-year-old attempt to look classy and sophisticated, at that moment I took out a cigarette, put it between my lips, picked up my lighter, and lit my cigarette - or so I thought. Unfortunately, my long, red, fake thumbnail got in the way of the flame, and it caught on fire. The waiter's mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He froze in place. I was horrified. The flame was literally shooting up from my nail! And smoke; the nail was plastic! Quickly scanning the table for the closest thing with which I could extinguish the flame, I spied my glass of wine. As nonchalantly as possible, I stuck my thumb in the glass. There was a sizzle as the flaming nail hit the wine. When I withdrew my thumb from the glass, the nail was melted, black, and curled under. Ever the professional, the waiter regained his composure and proceeded to take our orders without missing a beat - but I'm sure I was the talk of the kitchen for the rest of the evening. So much for my attempt at appearing "classy" and "sophisticated". According to the above context, answer the following question. What does the waiter think about the 21-year-old girl?
OPTIONS:
- She is a non-smoker
- She is not a customer he is willing to serve
- not enough information
- She is a conceited person

Answer: She is a conceited person

With almost two years left of my law degree, and with no intention of doing anything so idiotic as actually attending lectures or studying law, I had plenty of time to come up with my next bid for online fame. The Griff Rhys Jones TV project had stalled after a couple of meetings when everyone involved realised that the idea - to pipe broadband comedy programming into the nation's workplaces under the noses of bosses - was a bit of a non-starter. But I had become quite good friends with Rhys Jones's partner in the project, a comedy writer called Charlie Skelton, and he, Clare and I frequently met to brainstorm possible projects we might work on together. It was during one of these meetings that Clare proposed the idea of starting a comedy magazine - something like Private Eye, but for the Internet generation. My days as a school magazine publisher had taught me that printing magazines and distributing them was a royal pain in the arse and, anyway, if it was to be a magazine for the Internet generation then shouldn't it actually be on the Internet? The Zingin.com newsletter had attracted a ton of subscribers and had a distribution cost of basically nothing so why, I suggested, didn't we start a weekly comedy ezine, sent out by email? And, in a nod to Charlie's failed office comedy project, we could target it at bored office workers, sending the email to them on a Friday afternoon to cure the crushing boredom of those final few hours of the working week. And with that, The Friday Thing was born. To promote our fledgling publication we came up with a brilliant ruse: an online petition to have Friday afternoons declared a national holiday. British people worked harder than any other Europeans (we made up) and so it was only fair that our working week should end at noon on a Friday. We created an official website explaining our demands, registered a web address - letsgetitoff.com (snigger) - and sent a press release to the media. Clearly we had tapped into a seam of strong feeling among the nation's overworked... According to the above context, answer the following question. How was the online magazine started?
OPTIONS:
- Website
- Printing
- Email
- not enough information
Email