Q: That day, my mother picked me up from school, wearing the yellow sundress and shawl I remembered from our trip with Father the year before. She looked just like she did most days back then--a glamour queen, a movie star ("Just like Lena Horne," my friend Chloe had once said, "only darker--oh, sorry, Leah!"), but today her beauty somehow had a harder, more defiant edge to it. I could smell the expensive Dior perfume as soon as I opened the door, which surprised me, because my mom was usually fastidious about not getting perfume on her clothes. She was wearing her bug glasses--huge dark things with lenses that bulged out like fly eyes and reflected my face like a fun-house mirror. She had tied a yellow silk scarf around her hair and was taking deep pulls on a cigarette held between two immaculately manicured fingers. Only I knew about the nicotine stains she carefully covered with her special order "forest sable" cream each morning. Tiffany, a stupid but vicious senator's daughter who I had the misfortune of sharing a classroom with, suddenly dashed from inside the school, her face flushed. "Hello, Mrs. Wilson," she called. Before my mother could respond, she giggled and ran back to three of her friends waiting beyond the door. I could hear them laughing, but I was glad I couldn't understand their words. They were all fascinated with my mother--the black housekeeper who dressed like Katharine Hepburn and drove a Cadillac, whose daughter's "light toffee" skin indicated that she might just like her coffee with a lot of cream. Sometimes I hated those girls. "Get in the car, Leah," my mother said. Her already husky voice was pitched low, as though she'd been crying. That made me nervous. Why was she here? "Ma, Chloe was going to show me her dad's new camera. Can't I go home on the bus?" My mom pulled on the cigarette until it burned the filter, and then ground it into the car ashtray--already filled with forty or so butts. She always emptied out the ashtray each evening. Question: Tiffany greeted Leah's mother: === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- Before Leah got into the car
- After Leah's mother burned her cigarette filter
- While putting on Dior perfume
- not enough information

A: Before Leah got into the car

Q: I don't see a point. That's the biggest problem with my life currently. I honestly, don't see a point. Am I working towards temporary monetary gain? Is my goal supposed to be buying my dream car(s)? Is my goal spiritual? I'm currently Catholic, but I've seen how spiritually those around me have changed. I've even wondered what's the point of heaven, if everything I want is there. I like life because of the ups and the downs. I enjoy learning and discovering new things. The idea of perfection seems like an impossible concept to me. Maybe even an unenjoyable one. Maybe my goal is to have a family. Being catholic naturally we gravitate towards larger families. But as a libertarian I don't see a lot of potential in the United States at it pertains to economic freedoms. I see the government encroaching more and more into our lives. Is this the type of country I want to raise a family in? I certainly don't want to be outside the United States (no offense towards anyone outside of the U.S). Maybe my goal is political. I've always wanted to run for office. Maybe governor one day. Would I be able to avoid the waves of bipartisanship, and actually do what I believe is the best for the people of my state. Or would I collapse under the political pressures and sign up for agreements I know in my heart and mind won't help the people. Only time will tell. I just don't see a point. I actually have many goals, but I struggle to see the overall point of accomplishing any of it. Especially seeing as anything I do will be lost in the ink-blots of history. Question: How long would it likely take the author to achieve his/her goal if it were in fact to work to buy a dream car? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- a lifetime
- several years
- some few months

A: several years

Q: The dumbest thing that actually worked? I joined Tinder. Reason I say it was the dumbest is because I still acknowledge that it's not my kind of dating scene even though I ended up meeting the love of my life through the app. Other than that? Nothing was wrong or dumb. I have done nothing much because the man I am currently dating sent me a superlike after I was on the app for less than 12 hours. I joined, created profile, went through possible matches, and then went to bed. I didn't have enough time to do something dumb. Now my boyfriend on the other hand was on the app for 45 months prior to me joining and him finding me. His story is that he had been in there long enough to end up matching with some bots (robots that somehow end up joining or hacking the app. I have not a clue how) that he would have conversations with to test if they were legitimate people. He would also match with different people who would either immediately block him because he came as weird or he would block them because they came off as weird. When he found me, what he saw in my profile was that I was local, I was a legitimate person because I knew someone that he knew through Facebook, and I had multiple pictures of myself that looked genuine. I also had a description where I stated my intention for using the app which was that I was looking for a serious relationship. What he did after I connected with him was talk to me and then test me as the conversation progressed. How did he test me? He told a corny joke which I laughed to. If I hadn't have found his joke funny, he probably wouldn't have asked me out on a date. I hope that answers your question. I know it wasn't very. eventful. Question: Why did the boyfriend ask test questions? === The answer to the above question is

OPTIONS:
- Because he had dealt with bots.
- Because he was asked to.
- not enough information
- Because he was a teacher.

A:
Because he had dealt with bots.