My old roommate's cats, Clise and Monkey, were about as different as cats could be. Clise, rescued as an emaciated kitten from a local park, grew up to be morbidly obese. His interests mainly involved eating food, begging for food, or going around the neighborhood scrounging for food. He could hear a can opener from a mile away. Monkey was a more active cat. He liked to chase the laser pointer and was the first to run to the door when someone arrived. But he could also be lazy, lounging in a sunbeam or stretched out on the couch. Both of them liked to watch TV. Soon after I moved in, I started having health issues which necessitated a lot of time lounging around myself. This was the era of reality TV, back when much of it was actually good. The cats, Monkey especially, watched with me. Monkey definitely had his preferences. His favorite shows were The Girls Next Door and Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders: Making The Team. Notice a theme here? Playboy Playmates and professional cheerleaders. Monkey liked his T & A (tits and ass). If one of these shows was on, and I turned it to Project Runway or something, Monkey would march off. But as soon as I turned it back, and he could hear the high-pitched giggling, he'd come running back. Clise's favorite shows were Top Chef, Iron Chef, and Rachael Ray. Food porn. If there was something he especially craved, like a shrimp stir-fry, he'd assume a begging pose, right in front of the TV, as if Rachael might take pity on him and throw him a scrap or two. I moved out about a year later. A few months previous, Monkey ended up catching some wasting disease and dying, but Clise, as far as I know, is still there, begging for scraps from anyone he can in real life or televised. How long did it take Clise to get obese? A. Its adult lifetime. B. Since he was found. C. Many years. D. not enough information
A

I've had two. Both happened in Newport RI when I was in the US Navy. First, I lived in a cottage that was in an old motel. It had a cottage in front where the landlady lived and there were ten little cottages in a half-moon configuration around it. Ours was a party place and we didn't have a phone. This was in the early 1970's. The landlady was in her 50's I'd guess. The only phone was a pay-phone outside her cottage and it was o party line with her phone. When we used it, she would try to listen, especially if we were talking to a girl. We could tell and sometimes we'd ask he to hang up, but other times we'd talk about sexy stuff and let her listen. We could hear her breathing heavy when we did. When we'd be parting, she'd come to the door wearing sexy clothes that were completely inappropriate and want to be invited in. Though we were a bunch of horny sailors, no one wanted any part of that. We never let her come in. I got married and moved into an apartment that was three rooms in a huge old house. They closed that Navy base and all of the sailors were transferred elsewhere. There were bumper-stickers that said, "Will the last sailor to leave, please turn out the lights." In those days, Newport was a small town that leached off of sailors. My landlord said that when my wife and I were completely out and it was completely clean, he'd refund my deposit. We left the apartment immaculately clean and he wouldn't refund my deposit. That was nearly 50 years ago and it still pisses me off. How long did the author live in the second apartment? A. not enough information B. A few months to a few years C. Until he and his wife retired D. A couple of days
B

*Question*
My fraternal twins were born 2 months early. The staff had already stopped premature labor at six months gestation but it proceeded too quickly this time. Total labor 2.5 hours. Needless to say, they were tiny - female 2 lbs. 3 oz, male 3 lbs. 10 oz. Female was born dark blue - luckily, I was at the finest maternity hospital in this half of the State (McGee Women's). They brought the female around to breathing, while I cried, thinking that she was dead. The twins were rushed to the NICU, too tiny to breast feed except with pumped milk through a feeding tube. Both were watched closely by doctors and nurses as they were not passing waste properly. The day it was decided that the male needed surgery, the female was discharged to home. The male was transferred to another very good hospital for surgery for a temporary colostomy. He was discharged to home after a week. What broke my heart was that I was allowed to visit him in the hospital but his older brother and twin sister were not allowed. Prior to his discharge, the staff instructed me in changing and maintaining his colostomy bag on a daily basis. He kept the colostomy bag until he was about 5 months old; back into the hospital for the colostomy reversal. The sign that I hung above their shared playpen said "Whatever doesn't kill me, makes me stronger". How did I cope with it? Mostly alone. The hospital offered group sessions for parents of severely premature infants. During the very first session, I had a zen realization that, once I realized that the circumstances were out of my control, I GAINED control of myself and my life. A bit like the Serenity Prayer. I shared that epiphany with the group and they looked at me like I had two heads. I had never heard of the Serenity Prayer and I'd been an atheist since age 13, so religion was not my go-to then, nor is it now. That realization helped. The twins are 37 now. Why did the babies have to go to the NICU? A. because the labor was too long B. not enough information C. because they were in a small town D. because they were born 2 months early
**Answer**
D