As Julie kept asking question after question, all I could think of was how desperately I needed a normal, healthy relationship. As far as most of my relationships went, mine with Julie was great. But it was great in all the wrong places. There really wasn't much more to it than sex. Even though it was a mind-numbing, bathe-in-gasoline-to-slough-the-shame-from-my-soul kind of sex, it didn't matter. At the end of the day we were just objects to each other. We couldn't talk about anything else. We'd tried before, but it had usually led to an afternoon of power-fucking in every changing room on Rodeo Drive. It was a fun ride, but nothing more. And like every great ride, Julie was beautiful, fast, and could turn on a dime in the blink of an eye. "I don't understand, Dingo." I couldn't tell if it was the 12 stitches over my eye giving me the headache or Julie's prattling. I bit off a stretch of red tape and put it over the empty socket where my taillight should have been while I balanced the phone between my shoulder and swollen cheek. "Julie, I told you. Darby took the box." "I get that, but--." "The box my dad hand-carved just before he died." I could feel the two edges of skin stitched together pull at each other every time my jaw moved. "Yes, yes, and the box protects your family's dirty little secret or your mother's pride and joy or whatever the hell it is you're calling it this week." "Hey, I told you not to go digging--. " "I don't care what it is, Dingo! I couldn't give a shit about that damn box or what's inside. The only thing I want to know is what the fuck your ex-wife was doing there." So there it was. And I thought she was jealous just because somebody else got to beat the living crap out of me for a change. "Julie, I didn't even know she was in town until after I was in the hospital." Question: Who took the box? Options: - Julie - Darby - Dingo's ex-wife - not enough information === The correct answer is
Darby

Jonathan Swift said, "Everybody wants to live forever, but nobody wants to grow old." Wouldn't it be nice if we could stay healthy and young and live as long as possible? Because that is a deep down desire of the majority, many people are always on a quest to slow down the aging process. So, our question for today is: What are the Anti-Aging Benefits of the Mediterranean Diet? First, we must acknowledge that no diet in the world can halt or slow the aging process. Aging is inevitable and food is not the elixir of life although the type of food you choose can lengthen or shorten your life. What has been proven by numerous studies is that the Mediterranean diet lessens your risks of getting certain diseases. It also offers a range of health benefits that will allow you to age in a healthy way. When you whole-heartedly adopt the Mediterranean way of eating, you will reduce your risk of health problems such as Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, stroke, heart diseases, etc. That alone can be classified as anti-aging. Old age is often associated with health problems. If you can grow old and maintain your health, that would be a fine way to live. The Mediterranean diet can help you do that. Unfortunately, the standard diet for most Americans is filled with junk food, sugary sodas, fast foods and processed, additive-filled food, etc. basically empty calories. Obesity is an epidemic. People eat whatever is the most convenient with little regard for their health. This is very upsetting and dangerous for the population as a whole. There is a wide assumption that healthy food is not delicious. People believe that to eat healthy they must live on a steady diet of raw carrots and steamed chicken breasts. As a result, they choose not to do so. They would much rather have a fast-food burger and cheese fries it's easier and tastier. Question: What do people assume about healthy food? Options: - It requires a lot of preparation - It is not delicious - It is expensive - not enough information === The correct answer is
It is not delicious

Q: Michael Morzeny put his hands into the pockets of his overcoat and hugged the fabric tighter around his body. The winter wind hurried down Columbus Avenue and the hem of his coat flapped around his knees letting little pockets of cold waft up to invade the warmth his body had spent so much time preparing and storing around his torso. With a bitter squeeze of his hands, his knuckles now getting cold, Morzeny bowed his square shoulders to the wind and continued walking. At sixty-seven years old the New York winters bothered Morzeny more than he cared to admit. And, although no doctor would admit it to him, he was positive that the first faint hints of arthritis tweaking through his hands were made worse by the cold. At every cross street the setting sun flashed through to the avenue in shades of crisp pink and red. Morzeny didn't want to be working right now. But these outings were the price he paid for having a hybrid job, owning buildings and brokering as many of his own leases as possible. When he had first come to the city he had been told that he needed a job, not for income, his providers took care of that, but for his own sanity. Something to keep him going. He had asked for something in real estate and had never bothered to wonder what other paths he might have taken. He had always been able to focus to the point of blindness. It helped him in every aspect of his work. He arrived at the brownstone building housing the apartment he was to show tonight. His building was tucked into a short row of buildings that squatted over the street, their steps reaching towards the curb like stunted growths. More to prove to himself that he could do it than anything else, Morzeny took the front steps two at a time. Question: Why did the New York winters bother Morzeny? Options: - not enough information - He is from the south - He is 67 years old - He doesn't have a good coat === The correct answer is
A: He is 67 years old