Problem:OPTIONS:
- she waited in line
- not enough information
- buying them online beforehand
- at the hotel

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: As I mentioned in my previous post on Sacre-Coeur, one of the other places I didn't get a chance to see when I was in Paris last summer was the catacombs so I wanted to be sure to fit in a visit this time around. Long Queue vs Online Tickets You can either wait in line to get in or buy tickets online for specific time slots to bypass the line. Wait times can be anywhere from 30 minutes to 3+ hours and in the summer time, it's common to wait for hours. I definitely recommend buying a ticket online. Keep in mind that they have a limited number of tickets for each time slot, so don't wait too long to buy or you may be stuck in that loooooong line. We got quite a few less-then-friendly looks from those in the line when we bypassed the entire queue and went right in. C'est la vie (insert Gallic shrug here). For some inexplicable reason, the site says you must print your tickets if you buy them online. Given that most visitors to the catacombs are tourists with limited or no access to a printer, this seems particularly silly, but what can you do? Luckily, we were in a hotel with a small business center so we printed our tickets there. Online tickets cost quite a bit more (27 compared to 12 for adults and 10 for those age 26 or under). Totally worth it if that works with your budget. Online tickets also come with an audio guide. If you buy tickets at the door, the guide is an extra 5. It's a nice cool 14C (57F) down there, a lovely break from the hot summer weather above. It is damp in places and the ground can be slippery so watch your step as you walk. Question: How did the author get tickets for the catacombs? Answer:
****
A: buying them online beforehand

Read the following context and answer the question. Context: SHE moved through the crowded streets like she owned the place. Hell, if things went as planned in the coming months, she might in fact own the place. Or some other place if that's what she wanted. If things went as planned, there was no limit to what she could have. She smiled to herself as a crowd of sunburned, middle-aged men broke ranks to let her pass on her way toward Mallory Square. They had no idea who she was, but she liked to think that they could sense her strength and that it intimidated them. Not enough to stop them from staring openly at her chest of course, but what did she expect? They were still men. Duval Street, Key West's main tourist drag, buzzed with early evening activity. The sun had set less than an hour ago, and the throngs moving up from the nightly sunset ritual in Mallory Square now wandered about, trying to choose between the dozens of bars and restaurants vying for their attention. She moved against the general flow and seemed to know exactly where she was going. She knew these streets well and had planned out her route ahead of time. But something bothered her. That nagging feeling in the back of her brain that she'd long ago learned to heed even though it was wrong as often as it was right. You couldn't survive in her world without learning to pay attention to such feelings, and she'd more than survived - she'd prospered beyond the dreams of any young hacker or con artist. Heeding the subliminal warning, she changed plans and stepped out into the crawling Duval Street traffic. A purple taxi honked angrily but she just smiled as she strode across the street and stared intently at a display of cheap, tasteless T-shirts in a storefront window. Question: Why was she probably intimidating? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- because she was wearing a new outfit
- because of her self confidence
- because it was a group of men
because of her self confidence

Problem: OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- In a friend's house
- His old home
- A small apartment
Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: Everybody knew Shandor Marley's mother liked to spend more time flirting with serial killers than she did taking care of things at home. So when her son went round with an air rifle popping his neighbours like they were allotment pigeons, they figured all the boy really needed was a bit of attention. Shandor finally flipped one day after finding out the inbred farm boys who made his life hell most days were in fact his half-brothers. He returned home to confront his mother only to find her pritt-sticking press cuttings of the Mad Killer into a brand new scrapbook and seemingly not in the least bit concerned by her son's unexpected discovery. Luckily Shandor's shooting spree didn't do too much damage beyond putting one of his so-called new father's eyes out, which could be considered doubly unfortunate given as the so-called new father in question owned the old byre Shandor and his mother called home. After Shandor had spent enough time shut away in borstal with the kind of kids who would've sent his mother all weak at the knees, he went straight home half-expecting the byre to be boarded up with a blu-tacked note saying she was lugging her stupid arse to Texas to spring her latest psycho boyfriend from his cell on death row. Shandor was thinking how much that excuse would sit well with her as he scuffed up the stone track to the byre with a black bin-bag of belongings and a sunburned arm across his forehead to shield himself from the glare. The place looked pretty much the same as he remembered it, only three years worse off. The strip of grass outside the back door was parched yellow and paint peeled around the blown-out windows. He had a hand on the door before he knew for sure it was still lived-in. He flapped thunderbugs off his forearm and creaked open the door. The kitchen stank of stale cigarettes and the dregs of spirit bottles. Question: Immediately after the end of this text, Shandor lives in: Answer:
Answer:
His old home