The hardest thing was having to give up my three beautiful puppies due to my situation, the environment, and the people in that environment. I've mentioned this in another question. (Lilo, my best friend) (Cleveland, the biggest of the litter, he was chill like me) (Spike, the fluffiest, he was as fluffy as a cat, but clumsy to) What I did for these puppies was out of this world love. I never loved anything more in this world than these three right here. I raised them from birth to almost 11 weeks. While my mom wanted money, selling the others to anyone.(there was 11 in the litter) I cared for their safety and happiness and quality of life. They were my everything when I had nothing. I gave them away to a animal charity organization for free. My mom bitched at me for not getting money for them. At this time I was in severe depression, severe poverty, no chance of a job due to location, and wearing dirty clothes for months in her basement. I love animals to death, I love animals more than I love humans(but I'm no PETA activist). I loved these puppies, what I did was out of complete love and care for them and was seriously the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. It gets me very emotional thinking about this, I wish I was in a better position to give them a happy life. The black puppy, Lilo was my upmost favorite. She had the whine of a angel. She used it to always get my attention to give her more love. She always wanted to sleep with me every night and be with me every second of the day. Not a day passes that I hope they are getting love from a family in a great environment. I really want to get to see Lilo again. But of course the dog charity people changed their names. But she will also be Lilo to me♥️ Who was the biggest puppy? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - not enough information - Spike - Cleveland - Lilo
Cleveland

I saw one last night on an episode of Designated Survivor. To qualify this, I'm not normally bothered by product placements. Sometimes they can even add to the scene. But this one was bad, really bad. Agent is busy hunting for baddies. Finishes questioning one naughty person who climbs in his Ford F150 and speeds off. So far, so good - it is the sort of vehicle a country-living billionaire bad-guy would drive. The agent then pulls out her phone and Move to close up of phone screen showing Ford app already loaded (and screen unlocked!). Agent slowly moves finger to app. Does something. Pause as app does fancy graphics. Cut to car interior. Shot of dash, showing Ford logo on steering wheel. It's bright blue - are they not normally grey or more subtle? Pause for a second Zoom in on dash. Dash light up. Car starts. Show pretty dash lights for a second or so. Cut to agent Agent walks to car, gets in drives off. Lingering shot of rear of car. It was just so clumsy. Massive halt to the flow of the scene to show it. In most films you never see anyone starting cars, putting on seatbelts or similar unless this is part of the plot because it's unnecessary and not interesting to watch. I sort of expected the remote start function to have some sort of relevance later but no, it was totally ignored. Added to that: There was no password or security on her phone - and this is an agent investigating super secret stuff. If you don't show her unlocking the phone, why show her lovingly prodding the app? They are as relevant. She unlocked and started the car while she was 2030 paces away, on the grounds of a suspect ranch. Someone could easily have jumped in the car. Not very security conscious. Why did the agent pull our her phone? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - to start the truck - to enter her password - to catch a baddie - not enough information
to start the truck

I had something that might have been a little supernatural. So I was trying to sleep one time, and I sleep under the blankets 99% of the time. I sleep downstairs, so hearing noise is pretty normal. Also, my door doesn't lock, or even latch the door handle, so you can just push it open. So I was laying down, maybe at 60% in terms of how close I was to falling asleep, so I just had to lay down for like 5 more minutes. But there are a lot of noises, and they freak me out even though I just sorta pretend that they're definitely a cat or my dog or something. So, I'm already slightly spooked, but I'm ignoring it and going to sleep anyway. But then, I hear my door open. That isn't too weird, I do have cats, so even though by this point my fear is intense, I just sorta blow it off and keep trying to sleep. And then, something that's never happened in a situation like this, I feel something moving towards me on my bed. It feels like a cats movements, with light feet making slight reverberations on the bed. So my fear goes away entirely, and I'm like "Oh okay, it's just the cat, that's good." And I lift my blankets off my head to let my cat under with me, and because the fear seemed to make the atmosphere under there very hot and tense, and then I look at my bed and there's nothing. So I just pretend nothing happened and go to sleep, but that still sticks with me and even though it's kinda underwhelming I still think it was very strange since I wasn't at the "edge of consciousness" stage of going to sleep, so I feel like the chances I imagined it aren't too high. Where does the author sleep at night? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - A downstairs bedroom - In bed - not enough information - Under the blankets
A downstairs bedroom

"What was your worst makeup disaster?" Do fingernails count? I hope so, because this is a good one: I was 21 years old. I worked for a major commercial airline. A friend of mine and I decided to go to Puerto Rico for a long weekend. It was our first trip to Puerto Rico. The hotel at which we stayed had a lovely (classy/expensive) restaurant serving continental fare. So, we decided to have our first dinner there. We dressed to the nines. Our hair and makeup were perfect. I had fake fingernails (not acrylic - those were fairly new back then. I had the type one glues on). Those fingernails were long, and painted a very bright - and obvious - red. When the waiter came to take our drink order, we both ordered glasses of wine. The waiter brought the wine, set it down on the table, and waited to take our meal orders. I smoked back then, and at the time, smoking was still allowed in restaurants. In a 21-year-old attempt to look classy and sophisticated, at that moment I took out a cigarette, put it between my lips, picked up my lighter, and lit my cigarette - or so I thought. Unfortunately, my long, red, fake thumbnail got in the way of the flame, and it caught on fire. The waiter's mouth dropped open, his eyes wide. He froze in place. I was horrified. The flame was literally shooting up from my nail! And smoke; the nail was plastic! Quickly scanning the table for the closest thing with which I could extinguish the flame, I spied my glass of wine. As nonchalantly as possible, I stuck my thumb in the glass. There was a sizzle as the flaming nail hit the wine. When I withdrew my thumb from the glass, the nail was melted, black, and curled under. Ever the professional, the waiter regained his composure and proceeded to take our orders without missing a beat - but I'm sure I was the talk of the kitchen for the rest of the evening. So much for my attempt at appearing "classy" and "sophisticated". When the thumbnail catch fire? Pick the correct answer from the following options: - After the waiter served the wine - After the waiter took the friends' meal orders - not enough information - Before the wine was served
After the waiter served the wine