PAUL Reynolds doodled idly on a bar napkin as he sipped at his margarita. All around him tourists of every size and shape were donning paper pirate hats and plastic eye patches. They were part of a relatively new Key West tradition called the Booty Hunt - a glorified bar crawl where participants followed a "treasure map" that led them from bar to bar, with occasional stops in private homes, and where the chief treasure to be found was the pleasure of being surrounded by fellow drunks and saying "Arrrr" a lot. Paul had participated a few times himself and was kind of embarrassed at how much fun it was. His pen drew a rough sketch of the crowd, although in his version they were actual pirates, in full dress with real swords and pistols and parrots. He took another sip and glanced around the bar, wondering where his drinking companion had gotten to. It was still early - just an hour or so after sunset, and Crooked Pete's was only half full. Located on Simonton, a block off the tourist-choked sidewalks of Duval Street, the bar hadn't hit its stride for the evening yet. The real crowd and the regulars would come later, once they had gotten a bite to eat and were ready for some serious, cheap drinking. He saw his friend Sandee emerge - finally - from the bathroom, smiling at Paul from across the bar while maneuvering through the gaggle of barhopping buccaneers. Thick, cascading black curls complemented Sandee's black sequined mini-dress that clung to every slim curve and emphasized shapely breasts. Sandee winked at one of the tourists, blowing the man a kiss as he ogled in naked admiration. "Did you miss me?" Sandee asked, sitting down beside Paul. "Of course," Paul replied, sliding another margarita to Sandee. "But your drink missed you more. All your ice is melting." "Oh, the poor darlings," Sandee cooed, licking the salt on the rim suggestively before taking a long swallow that emptied a third of the contents. Right after the end of this story A. The party will be over B. not enough information C. Paul and Sandee will have more drinks. D. They will visit Key West
C

Lancome Juicy Tubes changed my life. Ok, well that's a slight exaggeration but it was the first high-end make-up item that I ever bought and it made me feel like I was really getting somewhere. I'd got a good job, was in the process of buying my own house and I could afford to buy premium beauty products. I chose a transparent lemon yellow gloss with tiny flecks of iridescent glitter in, and over the following months I treated myself to several other Juicy Tube variants including a shimmery nude gloss called Pamplemousse which I wore on nights out for years (incidentally Pamplemousse is still going!). Fast forward several (ahem) years and Juicy Tubes are still going strong, but there's a new member of the Juicy family vying for attention the Juicy Shaker.*. Another lip product, this one is a nourishing tinted lip oil which acts a bit like a gloss, and I was sent two of the new shades to try out Piece of Cake and Show Me The Honey. Juicy Shakers are a bi-phase nourishing lip oil, when the product is allowed to settle the pigment falls to the bottom and the oil rises to the top, giving a split effect. Then you need to shake the bottle to mix the two layers together, giving the product it's name. The ingredients include sweet almond oil, omega 3 and cranberry oil and really help care for your lips unlike most other glosses. Show Me The Honey is a nude coral shade, it looks rather orange and scary in the bottle but in reality it's much more of a gentle shade. Piece of Cake is a damson pink, and again looks much darker in the bottle. I found that Piece of Cake matches almost exactly with the natural colour of my lips so it's perfect for when I want my make-up to look really pared back with glossy supple natural looking lips. What types of oil did the author use on her lips? A. blueberry B. sweet almond and cranberry C. lemon and orange D. not enough information
B

Q: I thought I might get some good ideas if I went down to the hospital. I always have stayed away from hospitals. People died or were born. But now I thought I might get some idea if I went down to where it was all happening, the being born and the dying. Mostly the dying. It was the dying that interested me. I sat on a bench in a sort of waiting room. I wanted to call it a green room; it wasn't a place where the patients would wait to be called by the doctor; it was a place where the relatives would wait while the patient was in their room. It had a coffee bar, and comfortable couches, with trendy, muted colors on the walls and floor. Everything was clean and modern without being cold, a homogenized balancing act designed to keep everyone calm during their stressful time. It was a green room; patients were "guests"; their families were "guests" as well. Here was where the families would sit and be feted while they waited to be called out to perform, to smile and encourage or to don faces of appropriate mournfulness. The old ones would put on smiles, the young ones would look sad. I think I went there because it seemed to me that it was the place richest in emotional impact. It reeked of spent emotions, and the emotions were made all the stronger, here in the green room, by the efforts at suppression--the muted walls and gourmet coffees and scones, the overstuffed loveseats and couches, as if those in grief should not be permitted to sit on benches or folding chairs. It absolutely reeked of hush and hidden feeling. It was worse than a church. It was worse than a highschool hallway. It was more universal, more basic, something even the children could comprehend. The author believes that the efforts of suppression in the waiting room A. worked as intended B. worked in the opposite way they were intended C. not enough information D. worked, but not very well
A: B