input with options: The Marshall police were looking for the killer, but they had no evidence or witnesses. The case would go cold in a hurry. Carnie was ready to check out of her room--not because of any fear of getting caught--just from boredom. She hadn't sold the old lady's jewelry, but had plenty of cash anyway. Carnie flipped open her cell phone and dialed. "Hello?" "Hey, Sis, how are you doing?" "Fine. What's going on?" "How about if I come stay with you guys for a few days before the wedding?" "You mean now?" "Yeah. If you don't mind." "Uh...sure, that'll be fine." "Great. It'll be like old times." "No, no. I can't party all night and get drunk." Carsie laughed. "Okay. Maybe not exactly like old times. But we'll have fun. See you in thirty minutes." "Thirty minutes? Where are you?" But Carnie had already hung up. It was hard to believe that her sister, Carsie, had wormed her way into the heart of the wealthy doctor. Sis had a lot more patience than she did. She would have just slit his throat and skipped town with his fortune. Surely Carsie hadn't actually fallen in love with the nerd. Maybe her biological clock had started ticking too loud to ignore. Carsie was about to turn 31, and Carnie was only a year behind her. But unlike her sister, Carnie didn't need a man to support her and give her babies. Anything she needed she would get for herself, thank you very much. But it would be hysterical to watch Carsie go through the whole 'until death do we part' shtick. Would she actually have the balls to wear a white dress? If the color of the dress indicates the purity of the bride, maybe she should go with midnight black. Question: Carnie asked to stay with her sister === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- After the wedding
- During the wedding
- not enough information
- Before the wedding
output: Before the wedding

input with options: 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: How long was probaby Dingo in the hospital for? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- 1 month
- 2 days
- 1 week
output: 2 days

input with options: I've often been asked, "What is a blog?" This is my attempt to answer that question in a simple way. The word blog is short for web log and although the quick answer for me would be "a web journal" or "online diary," I think blogs encompass more than that. Blogs are platforms for people to write about pretty much anything and everything. I was first introduced to the concept when a few friends starting writing family blogs as a way to keep in touch with distant friends and relatives or keep up with documenting their lives for themselves or their children. Sort of like a modern day scrapbook or baby book. Then, I followed a couple friends as they blogged about traveling around America. One's purpose was to find a small town to settle in and the other's purpose was to kill time while unemployed and waiting for a call to serve as a minister. Now I follow all sorts of blogs. There are blogs about dogs, traveling, kids, cooking, religion, fitness, politics, crafts, parenting, writing, educating, interior design, you name it! There are even blogs about blogging! Individuals run blogs. Groups of friends run blogs. Businesses run blogs. Religious institutions run blogs. Blogs are a way for people to connect over certain topics and interests, socializing in the ever-growing blogosphere. Chances are, you've read blog posts without even realizing it. Most look like an article you'd find on any website. But blog posts typically have a personal touch. They're a wonderful way for people to share tips, tricks, tutorials, inspiration, and more with others. If you want a more thorough definition of the term blog, this one is from Wikipedia. Blogs are also a way for businesses to advertise through honest reviews and giveaways. They partner up with bloggers to spread the word about their products or services. So, some bloggers are also advertisers. Question: What is an online platform for writing about everything? === The answer to the above question is
OPTIONS:
- not enough information
- advertising
- Wikipedia
- a blog
output:
a blog