"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. Who is at the door? A. a drunk B. not enough information C. Pete D. Pete's daughter
B

I was introduced to the amazing range of handmade products from Okoii back in July and intended to post reviews in early September; however, was struck down with a particularly potent uterine parasite that left me comatosed on the couch each evening by about 8.00pm, so blogging had to take a massive back step. Now that my energy levels are returning I though that it is about time I told you about these amazing products! Okoii products are handmade by Yoko, formally from Japan, now living in Australia. Her aim was to introduce Australian women to traditional natural ingredients from Japan and Asia that they may not previously have been aware of. Some of these ingredients have been used in Japan for upwards of 1000 years, and recently the benefits of such ingredients have been scientifically proven. When you place an order with Okoii, your products are then made by hand, one by one, so you know that they are as fresh as they can possibly be. Other than Lush' Fresh Face Masks, I can't think of any other product that would be as fresh as Okoii. I find it quite exciting to know that when I purchase a product from Okoii, that it hasn't been sitting on the shelf of a warehouse for months, slowly deteriorating. It is recommended that the products be kept in the fridge to maintain their freshness and the all come with a recommended used by date that is between 3-6 months from when it was made. The first product that I am going to introduce you to is the Luxury Rice Bran Face Soap. I decided to review this one on its own for two reasons. Firstly, it was my absolute favourite of all the Okoii products I tried; and secondly, it was actually the product that I was most fearful of trying. Why? Well, the first beauty rule that is drummed into every girls head is to NEVER USE SOAP ON YOUR FACE and I was being forced to break this rule (I am a first born goodie goodie who NEVER breaks the rules - this was tough for me to do!). Yoko assured me that this soap was incredibly gentle and was not at all drying. Lucky for her I am... How does the Luxury Rice Bran Face Soap probably feel on your face? A. energizing B. it's potent C. not enough information D. it's gentle and not drying at all
D

(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. When did he take up his current job? A. After he first came to the city B. After he got arthritis C. After he became a broker D. not enough information
(A).
A