Q: I frankly haven't the slightest idea what the difference is between a moka pot and a cafetiere, but I'm going to pretend I do. "Delicious," I say, setting down my cup. "Way better than that stuff you get at Starbucks." Everyone else nods their heads in agreement, but I can't help but wonder if they're just being polite. Jason is pouring cream into his cup with a practiced hand, letting the white stream fall from the pitcher's lip in a smooth and slender column that blooms across his coffee's surface like a carnivorous plant photographed in stop-motion. "Did you hear about Tibet?" he asks. "Yeah," I say, "Terrible." "What's really shocking," says my boss, "is the complete ignorance of, well, most of America about what's going on right now." "Terrible." chimes in Jason. "and what with the death of newspapers, soon practically no one will be able to easily come by a well-formed opinion." "Did you hear the New York Times might be going bankrupt?" my boss asks. "Now that," Jason says, draining his cup, "would be a tragedy." Our biscotti has arrived and I'm reluctant to take the first piece. Is Dr. Burns paying again? It makes me feel awkward, because and despite the fact that she paid the last time--and this was at her invitation. Jason, for all his savior faire, did not appear to know how a Turkish coffee tasting was really supposed to go last time, and did not question when Dr. Burns ordered for all of us. Tracy, similarly, followed the doctor's lead and silently acquiesced when she took the check from the waiter dressed in a vest and what I took be MC Hammer pants. At any rate, it's not too weird for the boss to pay, right? After last time, I had gone home and dug out a 1984 copy of Emily Post, but that wasn't much help. There was no heading for "Research Assistants" nor did I find a chapter on "Student/Professor Luncheons." What caused a white stream to fall from a pitcher's lip? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - Jason pouring into his cup. - the actions of the waiter wearing MC Hammer pants - The tragedy in Tibet. - not enough information
A: Jason pouring into his cup.

Q: Is not necessarily worth two of anything, anywhere else. But it can certainly be a heck of a lot of fun. During my days as an inmate in Bridges House at the University of New Brunswick, I shared this space with about 99 other testosterone-addled 'young adults' whose charming tendency to get completely out of hand was barely held in check by the rod of authority of the Don and Resident Fellow. This is not to say that these two worthies weren't good at their jobs; more accurately, their task was more akin to herding cats -- fairly obtuse, barely socialized cats. Given the state of controlled chaos that existed, it wasn't unusual for little conflicts to arise from time to time. Being rather physically small and odd, I came in for a certain amount of abuse from someone called Scut, a large and obnoxious Newfie (hmmm, that's like saying that water is wet). I can't remember what it was he did to me, but it was serious enough that I decided to get my own back. It's been said that revenge is a dish best enjoyed cold. I think revenge is a dish best enjoyed in secret with no chance of counter-revenge to spoil the occasion. And so it was that I laid my plans against Scut. The occasion and place were set. My means of entry was secured. Now I needed material. For me, the only good fish is a live one. Even though I hale from NB, I really don't like free-swimming seafood. Considering the unimaginative cuisine of my youth, it's surprising that I eat anything at all. So with dead, smelly fish in mind, I persuaded my friend Shan to pick one up when he was down at the Saturday Farmer's Market. He returned with a four-pound shad, frozen solid. Shad has even more bones than other fish and you'll never see it featured on any cooking show (except maybe Iron Chef, where the disgusting and unusual seems to be standard). It took me all day to thaw out the fish in the lounge sink?#8364;?an activity which elicited howls of complaint from the guys trying to watch TV. What does the narrator believe is a dish best served cold? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Potato Salad - Fish - Revenge
A: Revenge

Q: My mother's shopping lists were ordered by rules known only to her. As you slid your finger down the columns of groceries and toiletries, you would invariably be stopped by something along the lines of "2dozjumHerbal Essences" or "1pepperoni TC," with the "TC" underlined twice and flanked by gnarled masses of pencil scratch-outs. When we were kids, we dreaded accompanying her to Wal-Mart, or worse, the Cosco at the edge of town, where the echoing rafters and limitless aisles seemed to mock the confusion into which we were inevitably thrown when handed torn-off fragments of the list. Of course, it was easy enough to see in hindsight that "2dozjumHerbal Essences" was merely the bastard child of two drunkenly weaving columns--we had been supposed to get two dozen jumbo eggs and a bottle of my mother's favourite brand of shampoo (ever inventive in creating proprietary abbreviations--"TC" standing for, what else, thin crust pizza--my mother scrupulously wrote out brand names in full). It was a little like ordering chemicals for a laboratory, sans any knowledge of chemistry--or, for that matter, laboratories, although my ignorance of the distinction between baking soda and baking powder cannot be entirely the root of my confusion. Eventually I--and my siblings--learned the difference between tomato paste and tomato sauce, and could readily distinguish one brand of laundry detergent from a similarly-styled knock-off, but my shame-faced trips back to the mothercart never ceased. I would track her down, most often in the produce section--she was usually loath to trust us with the delicate task of selecting the very best fruits and vegetables--and hand her back my portion of the list, asking for an explanation. Usually it amounted to a failure of awareness on my part--get the kind of soap we always get, of course! Who wouldn't be trusted to pick out produce? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - The mother. - The children. - The children's father. - not enough information
A: The children.