"Hey, guy." "No, this is Ray." He smiled, leaned back in his chair. It was, of course, Pete. Pete was the night shift guy at Crossroads Detox across town. Ray called it the Jesus Shop because it was wholly supported by a contingent of local churches who saw addicts as a potential ministry. Apparently Jesus saved--not only from sin and hell, but also from Dark Eyed Jim Beam. Pete was a relatively innocuous born again fundie who volunteered his time two or three nights a week. When he was not saving the world, his Clark Kent was actually a steady CPA job with the local H&R Block. He'd been pulling shifts for about six months, knew nothing about drugs beyond that bad people used them to escape their problems and that they were tools of Satan, and he always needed Ray's advice about one thing or another. This arrangement was not problematic as Pete had long ago given up trying to convert him. Pete was also the only guy in the city who was, as Ray figured it, making less money than he was at such an hour. In return for Ray's magnanimity, Pete had done Ray's taxes for free last year. They had never actually met, though Ray had faxed him the tax forms and Pete had faxed back a photo of his two pre-teen daughters and his geriatric Lab. "What's the problem?" Ray asked. "I have a recalcitrant." That's what he called them, the drunk and definitely disorderly. Pete's vocabulary did not include the word shithead either in its singular or plural. "Pete, they're all like that. Alcohol is bad medicine. That's why places like ours are in business. To make them calcitrant." "I know that." Pete sounded a little annoyed. There was some commotion in the background, a knocking on doors. Question: Pete says: Options: - "Alcohol is bad medicine." - not enough information - "I can't do your taxes" - "I have a recalcitrant." === The correct answer is
"I have a recalcitrant."

(Question)
For those of us who struggle with thoughts about our size and shape, sometimes we don't like our bodies and our behaviour very much. It seems like an impossible task to transform our self loathing into self-love, but it is possible with these five simple steps. I started to write some examples of the self loathing dialogue I occasionally have in my head and I found I couldn't do it. It felt as wrong as criticising my closest friend. I guess it goes to prove that the shift from loathing to love is not always huge and momentous, but subtle and gradual. When I look in the mirror and see a part of my body I don't like, I run through these five steps in my head. This following example is the kind of internal conversation I might have about my belly. 1. POSITIVE INTENT (THE GIFT) Recognise the gift your body is giving you. My belly fat is protecting and cushioning my intestines and reproductive system. By having a higher body fat percentage my hormones are functioning as they should, enabling me to have a normal transition through perimenopause. I fit my skin and the wrinkly empty skin folds are gone. 2. FORGIVENESS Acknowledge the way you have treated your body in the past. I am sorry that I have been either starving you or stuffing you with toxic food and that I have accused you of betraying me. I now realise that my body is a reflection of my thoughts and beliefs so I was hating myself. Please forgive me for treating you so badly. 3. GRATITUDE Notice the miracles your body performs even though you have abused it. I am so thankful that even though I have treated you so badly you are still healthy and functioning. I am amazed at your ability to heal a lifetime of digestive and hormonal issues within a short amount of time. Thank you for your forgiveness and that's it's not too late to take great care of you. Question: Who is the narrator's closest friend? Options: - His neighbor - His cousin - His boss - not enough information === The correct answer is
(Answer)
not enough information

I married young, at 19, bright-eyed and hopeful, and in a few months, we will celebrate our 29th anniversary. Like all marriages, we have had our share of happy and sad, growing together as the years passed us by. My husband is my best friend, a wonderful father, a hard worker, a great provider, treats me like a queen, and loves me unconditionally. He is my soul mate in many ways. My husband is also gay. I had no idea when I married him. I was a virgin on our wedding night and had never had any type of physical relationship prior to my husband. Having nothing to compare it to, I thought our sexual intimacy was normal. It was fun, sexy, enjoyable. My husband was a giving partner, and I almost always experienced orgasm. But as the years went by, the frequency of our sexual activity became less. It was not unusual to go months without sex not for lack of trying on my part. We rarely fought, but we would fight about the growing lack of intimacy. I often wondered what it was about me that made my husband not want to have sex with me. And then one day, shortly after our 25th anniversary, I found gay porn on his computer. At first he denied everything, but finally, through tears, he confessed that he'd had these same-sex attractions as long as he could remember. In his teens, a church counsellor had told him marriage would "cure" him. Feeling as though I had just been punched in the gut, I was heartbroken. I felt betrayed, confused, angry, sad, and yet, miraculously relieved. There was nothing wrong with me I was just not his type. The emotions flew through me leaving my head and heart confused. What now? I loved this man with every fibre of my being. We had a good life together, sex aside, and had built a family. We were happy. I did not want a divorce and neither did he. Question: What has been bothering the author? Options: - Her marriage had to much fun - not enough information - Her marriage was very normal - Her husband had no passion for her hence their growing lack of intimacy === The correct answer is
Her husband had no passion for her hence their growing lack of intimacy