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 did the sailor feel about the Landlady? A. He thought she was sexy. B. He thought she was trouble. C. not enough information D. He thought she was too strict.
B

(Question)
The wildfire smoke cleared on the morning of our family wedding, just in time for the bride and groom to say their vows overlooking coal harbour. We took this as a sign that we needed to book our Vancouver seaplane flight, to really explore the azure harbour waters and take in an eagle-eyed view of this city. I suppose it was ok oh, who am I kidding, the harbour is spectacular. Let me also point out that none of these images are touched by editing. Like 99% of my images in this blog (the other 1% is cropping and making slight adjustments), these are entirely un-doctored. We began as all good things do, by hanging out in their airport lounge, offered a mini-pastry and a hot beverage I adventurously went for an 'English Mist', an Earl-Grey Latte to make myself feel a little more soothed boarding a tiny propeller plane (note: it didn't work.) With a slightly chaotic boarding process (more noticeable after such a serene start) we were too busy sorting out the seats to realise that we had hopped on board, and within in seconds it seemed, our pilot had lifted off smoothly in a flurry of water foam. As we began to watch the world turn into a Lilliput version of itself, we barely blinked for watching beautiful vistas unfold. From tiny little islands (the above Passage Island technically belongs to West Vancouver, known as the Hollywood suburb of the city, and a couple of the homes are allegedly owned by celebrities) where the residents enjoy views of downtown Vancouver, the University of British Columbia campus, Vancouver Island, and the snow-capped mountains of Howe Sound to the fjords all the way along the Sea to Sky Highway to Whistler. They just scatter along the horizon, like a giant has skittered his toys along an azure sheet of silk. We looped around, looking back over the stunning Stanley Park and towering grid of Vancouver downtown buildings. From prehistoric forests, to gleaming silver confections of modernity. What does it mean that the world turned into a Lilliput version of itself? A. The landscape got smaller like the people of Lilliput as the plane flew into the sky B. not enough information C. The landscape became distorted like the images in a story D. The world started to look surreal below them like a fantasy novel
(Answer)
A

Ques: Kurt Vonnegut, writer and famous speech giver at US university graduation ceremonies, made this point to one group of soon-to-be-non-students: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. It is the end of a story about his grandpa who, on a summer's afternoon, would find the shade of a tree under which he could rest with a glass of homemade lemonade. The family didn't have a lot of cash, the grandpa worked hard every day of his life, but no matter how relentless the day-to-day was, he would always repeat this phrase as a reminder to those around him that, at the end of the day, this is all still amazing to be part of. This kind of optimism, as you might call it, can often disappear in a flash in the busy-ness of business or school. Things become impossible, hardgoing, relentless(ly difficult). And the reasons we give for that busyness nearly always involve someone or something else - the system, the job, the weather... For many years, people would ask the salutary "how are you?" and my answer was a stock one: "I'm tired." It was my wife who pointed it out to me, presumably because everyone else was too polite to express their boredom with my reply. The fact is, most people feel tired most of the time, until they make a switch in their life. That switch is deciding that the only person who can turn that frown upside down, who can make crazy stuff happen (or attempt to, and enjoy the process), is you. And in Vonnegut's case, that switch came from saying out loud the one phrase that brings us back to the good elements in what we or our team or our family is doing at any given moment: If this isn't nice, I don't know what is. Why was everyone bored with his reply? A. he never responded B. he always said "I'm tired" C. not enough information D. he always said "How are you?"
Ans:
B