The drive up to Rick's place in the hills always made me sick. Just after he bought the house with his ill gotten gains from his band's over-hyped, over-marketed, and over-bought sophomore Disc, he drove me out to see it in his beautiful but nauseating '70 Datsun 240 Z. All the smog combined with the pinball effects of winding up the hill at teeth-numbing speeds had me puking for an hour after we got there. I took the last turn at the top of the hill and watched the rising sun crest over the black blocks of the city, her angel wings soiled and cheapened with the soot of 12 million get-away drivers. Rick's house came into view out of the fog, its large glass panes sparkling like the last clean surface of an oversized ashtray. I parked between a blue hatchback and Rick's favorite toy: a 350 horsepower Impreza he had smuggled here from Japan. All his more expensive rides were in the garage, collecting dust and gaining vintage resale value. I rang the bell. I waited and watched a couple of squirrels fight over a small treasure in the bushes. The door opened. "Dingo." "Hey, Luna." Her job as Rick's assistant was to take care of his place while he was out being a rock star. She made sure all his bills were paid, his animals were fed, and that the subsequent fallout from any parties she might have in his absence didn't leave any lasting damage. She was pretty by most standards, gorgeous by others. Short with a tight schoolgirl body and raven hair that teased her avian shoulders. But by whatever standard, her beauty was like a rare and exotic bird she kept caged behind the bars of her perfect teeth. As soon as she opened her mouth it flew away. Question: How long did the narrator wait for Luna to open the door? Options: - a couple of hours   - immediately; no wait   - not enough information   - A couple of minutes === The correct answer is
A couple of minutes

(Question)
Regular readers of Beauty Best Friend blog will know that I suffer from an extremely sensitive scalp which can be really itchy, and I have to be very careful what shampoo I use. I know that I’m sensitive to shampoos containing sodium laureth sulfate (also known as SLS, it’s the ingredient that makes shampoos, shower gels and soaps lather) but I’m also sensitive to some other ingredients in shampoos too – mainly fragrances. I had previously been using Rainforest Balance Shampoo and Conditioner from The Body Shop®, but I found the conditioner a bit too rich and my hair didn’t always feel totally clean after using it. So I started doing a bit of research into recommended natural shampoos – and this Sensitive Shampoo from Lavera kept coming up again and again! Several of the reviews I read said that this was the best shampoo for sensitive scalps and that it left hair feeling really clean and soft, so I decided to try it. The shampoo is a translucent peach-coloured gel that contains organic witch hazel and organic almond milk. It has quite a strong scent, but it’s a nice one so it doesn’t put me off. The shampoo feels creamy when you rub it together in your hands, but I did need quite a lot of it to get a good lather on my first application – the second application lathers a lot more easily. I definitely agree that this makes hair feel a lot cleaner than a lot of the other SLS-free shampoos that I’ve tried, my hair feels clean and full and soft when I’ve used it – the same way it would do if I were using a regular shampoo. I think it also helps my hair to dry more quickly and makes it easier to straighten too. But where this shampoo is outstanding is the way it makes my scalp feel – my scalp feels soothed and calm and there’s no hint of itching. I’ve been using Lavera Sensitive Shampoo for over a year now and I wouldn’t change it for the world, it’s definitely one of the best shampoos for a sensitive itchy scalp. Question: What does the author believe about the organic witch hazel gel shampoo? Options: - not enough information   - it does not smell good   - it is mild   - it has a strong scent === The correct answer is
(Answer)
it has a strong scent

Ques:If you turned on the TV towards the end of 2002 you could have been forgiven for thinking that Britain had gone absolutely horseshit mental. Every week, it seemed, another pretty young girl from a nice family, who was happy and popular and always did well at school, was being kidnapped or murdered by what the Sun newspaper cheerfully termed 'evil paedo scum'. Naming and shaming was as popular a feature in the Murdoch press as Page Three girls and discounted holidays to Butlin's. Of course you can't blame parents for wanting to keep their children safe; that's pretty much the job description of a parent. And, on the face of it, the tabloids were doing a public service in warning us about the paedophile menace lurking in our midst. The problem came when it turned out that a huge number of these concerned tabloid-reading parents were also absolute fucking morons. For every story of an actual sex offender being driven from their house by a baying mob there was one like that of Dr Yvette Cloete, a doctor at the Royal Gwent Hospital in Newport, South Wales, who returned home from work to find that a group of 'concerned parents' had daubed the word 'paedo' on her front door in bright red paint. Dr Cloete was a consultant paediatrician. Easy mistake. If you're an absolute fucking moron. And so it was that one hung-over morning, after reading yet another story about vigilantes who had threatened to stone Maxine Carr, the girlfriend of Soham killer Ian Huntley, to death during her high-profile trial for perverting the course of justice, I decided to set up a website parodying this collective national madness. The result of two or three hours of hung-over labour was thinkofthechildren.co.uk, a spoof campaign site which claimed to offer a handy online guide for crazy vigilantes of all stripes to co-ordinate their crazy vigilante efforts. Although there are a few parts of the site I'm still a bit proud of, the majority of it was, I freely admit, satire of the lowest order. Question: How long did it take to set up thinkofthechildren.co.uk website? Options: - Few years   - Few month   - not enough information   - 10 minutes === The correct answer is

Ans:
Few month