Read the following context and answer the question. Context: I showed up at the address on Columbine's invitation just before eleven; it was a converted warehouse in an industrial zone on the city's north side. Since it was a Saturday night, everything else was empty for miles. The parking lot was filled with sports cars, hybrids, and shiny suburban tanks. The door facing the parking lot was open, spilling out muted lights and the din of yuppie chatter. It cast a somewhat foreboding aura over the entrance. The first thing I noticed as I approached was the beefy refrigerator in a rented tux blocking the doorway. The second thing was the surveillance camera perched on the wall above his head. I had stopped home and changed first, so I was sure I was dressed mostly appropriately for some rich faux-hipster art party - charcoal gray pinstripe jacket over a TV on the Radio t-shirt, skinny cuffed jeans, Docs, and a black fedora. I certainly didn't look any worse than the other idiots I saw filing in and out of the door. I even had an invitation. So I was fairly confident I'd be able to gain admission to this thing without incident. "No, absolutely not," the doorman said, pressing a meaty palm into my chest. "I was invited!" I said, exasperated. "I have documentation." I waved the rave card in front of his face. "No dice." I stepped aside to let a couple of aging goths through the door and wondered for a moment if the doorman somehow knew who I was. Then I noticed the ear piece he was wearing and my eyes darted back to the surveillance camera. "Motherfucker," I spat and raised both arms to flip off the camera. I didn't know it at the time, but at that moment Dylan Maxwell was sitting in front of a wall of monitors, laughing his ass off. Question: Why did the narrator try to flip off the camera? Answer:

OPTIONS:
- He didn't like the company that made the cameras
- not enough information
- He was trying to create a distraction
- He realized that Dylan was not letting him in

Answer: He realized that Dylan was not letting him in

Problem: OPTIONS:
- Her and her boyfriend make up
- Her and her boyfriend assault one another
- Her and her boyfriend separate and never see each other again
- not enough information
Q: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: As someone diagnosed with bpd this question kinda tugged at my heart, for a few reasons. From my understanding, the core of the disorder is an unstable sense of self and an inherent shame or worthlessness. Before I was treated I thought I just needed someone else, the right person to come along to love me in just the right way, being mindful of trauma and never triggering my symptoms. I was living in a fantasy world. You cannot expect another person, a whole person with a sound mind and stable to sense of self to subject themselves to the circus act of our lives. We can't even manage it ourselves!! I have been in two long-term relationships, and dozens of short ones six months or less. One of the two began when I was very low and lasted a very toxic 3 years. I entered treatment during that relationship, which resulted in it's demise. I was much happier afterward. The second relationship began after I completed treatment. We have seperated twice during the past 2 and a half years, and our relationship is currently rocky as well. But who I am in the relationship has changed. I am no longer the girl who needs extra reassurance daily that he's coming home from work. I can breathe when he goes to hang out with his friends. I am not threatened by every waking thought of his not being about me. Instead I am the woman that validates him and myself in arguments, and I put respect over everything. Of course I lose my temper. Self improvement is a constant process. But, to avoid hurting anyone you love, you should definitely talk to a counselor if you are looking for another person to help you :) For family members/lovers/caregivers, it's stressful and often results in a lot of resentment in the relationship! Be safe! Question: After the author loses her temper during an argument, what probably happens? Answer:
Answer: Her and her boyfriend make up

input with options: Read the following context and answer the question. Context: My best story is about Santa Claus. A mall Santa had a heart attack at work and was rushed to the Emergency Room in full cardiac arrest. Let me explain that a person playing Santa is generally a certain age (white beard) and body type (round) that is predisposed to cardiac disease. We did everything we could but ultimately our efforts were futile. The mall Santa rode his sleigh into the great beyond. A mother, there to visit another patient, was insistent that her 78 year old son be allowed back to visit his grandmother. We had a strict 12 year old age limit visitation policy. I was called to speak with her. "Why do you have such a stupid Draconian policy?" She insisted. "The Emergency Room is no place for a child ma'am. Besides, the germs and infections he may be exposed to, there are things he may see or hear that a child would have a hard time processing," I explained. "Like what?" She argued. "Well, there are people in pain moaning," I answered. "And drunks cursing at the staff. It's a tough place." "He's fine," she insisted. "I think I know how to parent. I don't need you to worry about what my son is able to handle." I caved in and allowed her back. As we passed the room with the dead Santa, a tech exited and opened the curtain. Her child looked in and saw Santa's lifeless body, ET tube sticking out of his throat, boots still on but costume cut to shreds and strewn across the room. The child lost it! "Mom, Santa Claus is Dead!" He cried. "I'm not going to get anything for Christmas." "Why would someone open the curtain?" The mother demanded. "I warned you," I said. "That's why we have a 12 years and above visitation policy." She was not happy. Come to find out the child had his picture made with that very Santa a few days prior. Very ironic. Question: Where were Santa's boot after Santa died? Answer:
OPTIONS:
- In the picture of the boy Santa taken at the mall.
- Still on Santa's feet.
- Cut into shreds and strewn all around Santa's body.
- not enough information
output:
Still on Santa's feet.