Question: Ques: Thank you for the a2a! I have a habit of making mental errors; some funny, some not. This one just happens to be funny. We had “open critiques” in art school. The idea was A- to point out how we could do it better, and B- to toughen us up for the advertising world. It’s brutal, cruel, and cutthroat, and get ready for your stupid clients to ruin your tasteful design and fuck it all kinds of up to put a picture of their ugly-ass crotch dropping on there, or a huge starburst that says “SALE SALE SALE!”. You had to learn not to care, and do your fulfilling artwork on the side. It’s just a job; nothing personal. We were in the middle of a critique, and it was turning ugly. The only time our professor would jump in was if it turned personal. It had. He laid back and let us fight it out, until someone told the girl we were critiquing that “with your taste from growing up in a trailer park, looks like you’ll be working for the Auto Trader” (a shitty, newsprint magazine that people sell used cars in- the worst of the worst design jobs). Before our professor could comment, I blurted out “For fuck’s sake, Mom….” I was about to say “tell them to break it the fuck up!” until the laughter started. Then I realized I’d called my professor, who had an MFA and spent 20 years in advertising at Saatchi and Saatchi, “Mom”. He responded with such amazing, quick wit; “Ms. Hood, I admire your devotion to your mother; just remember she stays home while you come to class.” I caught hell for it that entire semester. Luckily, we (almost) all had pretty tough skins, so it was amusing, even to our somewhat staid professor. He wrote on my end of semester assessment “Respectfully, Not Your Mom.” I still keep that assessment to remind me to wear life like a loose garment. We all say stupid shit sometimes; just laugh at yourself and enjoy the silly moment. What kind of job does the narrator likely work for at the end of the story?  A. As a professor at an art school.  B. not enough information  C. As a sale representative in retail.  D. As a graphic designer in advertising.
Ans: D

Ques: A long time ago, when humans still lived in cities, on a cold morning near the end of a long, cruel winter, in magnificent Central Park in the middle of magnificent New York City, a young squirrel named Patch was awakened very early by the growls of his empty stomach. A squirrel's home is called a drey. Patch's drey was very comfortable. He lived high up an old oak tree, in a hollowed-out stump of a big branch that had long ago been cut off by humans. The entrance was only just big enough for Patch to squeeze in and out, but the drey itself was spacious, for a squirrel. Patch had lined his drey with dry leaves, grasses and bits of newspaper. It was warm and dry, and on that cold morning he would have liked nothing better than to stay home all day and sleep. But he was so hungry. Hunger filled him like water fills a glass. The cherry and maple trees had not yet started to bud; flowers had not yet begun to grow; the juicy grubs and bugs of spring had not yet emerged; and it had been two days since Patch had found a nut. Imagine how hungry you would feel if you went two whole days without eating, and you may have some idea how Patch felt that morning. Patch poked his head out of the drey into the cold air and shivered as he looked around. Clumps of white, crumbly ice still clung to the ground. Gusts of cold wind shook and rustled the trees' bare branches. The pale and distant sun seemed drained of heat. Patch took a moment to satisfy himself that there were no dangers nearby, no hawk circling above or unleashed dog below. Then he emerged from his drey and began to look for acorns. But what marvels, what miracles, what mysteries are hidden inside those simple words! What is probably true about Patch?  A. he is not a squirrel  B. he is reckless  C. he is careful  D. not enough information
Ans: C

Ques: I will never own a Chanel suit. It is unlikely that I will ever own a (genuine) Chanel handbag. However, a Chanel nail polish was definitely attainable. Whilst they are ridiculously expensive compared with most other nail polishes ($AU39), they are still much more affordable than the $AU1,000,000,000 a handbag costs (or so I estimate as I have never actually priced one). After seeing swatches of Peridot online, I knew that baby would one day be mine. The other two polishes in the collection - Quartz and Graphite - did not excite me the way Peridot did. That was until I read this review of Graphite on the Polish Police. Suddenly, Graphite was on my radar. It was stuck in my head like an ear worm; another baby, soon to be adopted. I argued with myself for about a month on whether to get these polishes or not. Could I really spend nearly $80 on nail polish. It did seem rather excessive to me. Then, Myers sent me a $10 voucher for my birthday and I got a $30 voucher for doing a survey so the decision was made. For $38 of my own money (less than the cost of two OPI's!) I became the proud owner of Peridot and Graphite. Here is my review of Graphite. Graphite is the most stunningly intriguing nail polish I have ever owned. In the bottle it looks a little bit dull and boring - grey and bland. But on the nail it is completely different. In some lights it is silvery, others a more gun metal grey, and in others it has almost a goldish tone to it. It is super sparkly, yet is not a glitter polish - though in saying that it appears more glitter than shimmer. It is quite opaque. Two coats and you can't see the nail line. In the photos below I have actually applied three coats (plus an addition two top coats of clear) because I was going to a wedding and I wanted it to be perfect. But ordinarily two would be sufficient. What kind of nail polish was purchased?  A. Generic, off-brand nail polish  B. not enough information  C. Name-brand nail polish  D. Pre-owned nail polish
Ans:
Answer: C