Affiliate Marketing Secrets

I have started writing this story which goes like this so far:
“Tait lay in his broken bed. The large shed that he had been living in had a wrecked roof and the door had almost been ripped off its hinges. He walked over to the the corner of the room and pulled out a half eaten loaf of bread. He tore a piece of it off and shoved it into his mouth. He looked out of the grubby window and gave a little smirk. Today was Saturday and all boys in London who were like Tait knew that this was a good day. He quickly put on some clothes (not that he had many) and ran outside. He walked down the road to the big courtyard. He looked at the market with a grin on his face. “So I need bread, a bit of meat and something which can get sell to get a lot of money,” he whispered to himself. He slowly walked from stool to stool looking at everything that they sold. One by one things from stools went missing and Tait’s pockets became full of things.
“Gotcha!” a man said grabbing Tait’s wrists. Tait turned around only to see a middle aged man with a light stubble on his face. “What have you taken today?” the man shouted.
“Nothing, police officer, I have taken nothing!” he cried back pull the policeman’s hand off of his wrist. He walked off at a steady pace but once he realized the police officer was following him he made a dash for it.”
I want Tait to go on some adventure or something like that but I am not to sure how to do that, HELP!
P.S. What do you think of it so far?

My parent was fired from her job 7 years ago. She worked little part time jobs at pubs, used up her savings, and borrowed money from anyone she could to support herself for a few years before she was eventually evicted and had to move in with some friends. About a year ago she started having trouble with her friends because she wouldn’t/couldn’t get anything more than a part time job earning barely more than $3.50 per hour + tips and not being able to pay her share of the bills. She was kicked out about 4 months ago and since I would not allow my mother to be homeless she moved in with us. We paid nearly $600 to have her belongings moved to storage out here and have been paying $150 per month for storage, $70 for her car insurance, not to mention the cost of food, power, and water since our bills have gone up. We have been barely getting by since she moved in and can barely afford to put any groceries into the house. Lets put it this way, our dogs are eating better than we are. I tried to make things a little less comfortable for her to encourage her wanting to get out on her own but it backfired. I started to buy less groceries (not that we could really afford them anyways but) and buy a few things for my fiancee and I to eat for lunch that I knew she did not like and would not eat but to solve that problem she went out and got food stamps and while she is putting a little bit of food in the kitchen I’ve noticed wrappers for things like honey buns and things like that in the trash can or on the coffee table that I know we didn’t buy but there is no box in sight which leads me to believe she is hoarding food in her room! (I don’t know for a fact but I’m not going into that over stuffed room to save my life, you can barely walk through it! It’s not dirty like filled with week old garbage but its just a small bedroom that she has crammed to capacity with a king sized bed, 3 dressers, a jewelry box, 2 free standing closets and nightstands. But even with all that furniture she has baskets stacked with laundry and cardboard boxes stacked on half of her bed filled with junk like books and magazines and pure crap. Seriously I didn’t think you could even fit that much stuff into this little bed room but I am beginning to think she is a hoarder.)
Since she moved in we have noticed things moving around, are being told how and when to do things, food vanishing much faster than it should be, the constant bickering that I should have bought this brand of soda because it is $.03 cheaper even though it tastes like a dog’s backside and mostly the lack of privacy for example when I left for work today I closed my bedroom door but when I got home for lunch the door was open and I know my fiancee left at the same time as me and hasn’t been home since. I’ve lost access to my own computer and barely get to use my tv after work. I just want to run through the house screaming MINE MINE MINE like a child!!!
She used to do the dishes every day and help keep the house picked up but that is steadily declining as well. She hasn’t had a single interview in the 4 months that she has been here and I began to worry that she was not trying to find a job at all. The past few days I began looking at the history on my computer and it is littered with nothing but facebook and dating sites with a job posting here or there every week or so. This morning she left a craigslist job add on the browser but when I clicked back it goes directly to facebook.
My fiancee and I are getting married in a couple months and I recently got an offer to move into a company paid home but I can not take her with me nor do I want to! I told her about the offer and mentioned that when she gets a job I’d be willing to help her with her costs if she takes over the lease of the place we are in now until she is able to fully support herself since we are not able to move until she is working but she didn’t respond at all. She simply just shrugged her shoulders and began flipping channels on my tv.
My fiancee is at her wits end with this and I am at a loss. I have no idea what to do with this situation or how to deal with her moving my things about and acting like she owns the place. How can I get her off her butt and into a job?

Okay, I’m a 12 year old (almost 13), and I’m pretty sure that I have strict and overprotective parents. I am aware that some people’s problems are a lot worse, but I still want help. I also want some help with the fact that I think my parents don’t care about my achievements unless they are academic anymore. Here are some examples of my parents being strict/overprotective/ignorant:
-On my first day at middle school, my dad got out of the car with me and personally walked me to the entrance, while other kids were with their friends and got off the bus without an adult guiding them
-In 6th grade, we had this luau party because we were graduating from elementary school, and my parents didn’t let me go because it was from 7:00 to 10:00 P.M. I was one of four kids who didn’t go, one being a smart alek that no one really liked, another was a guy with anger management issues, and the other person never attended events like this. <— I HATED THIS.
-I got 2nd place in a spelling bee (it was for the whole 5th grade) 2 years ago, but my parents were a little disappointed and didn't care
-If I stay in the bathroom for at least 30 minutes, my mom freaks out
-My dad is always telling me about how he was working in the market, selling fish and working hard and how I'm lazy (and I help around the house often, even watching my little brothers for hours while he and my mom are at work)…
-Even if my brothers and I have finished all of our homework AND are ready for bed, we can't watch TV or do anything fun.
-My mom is constantly checking my Facebook, text messages and email account for any "suspicious" activity (i.e. boyfriends, swearing, secrets, etc.). I feel like I have NO privacy at all!
-I got one B on my report card – ONLY one – and my dad starts talking about how my brothers and I will go to bed early and takes away some of our electronics.
-My parents will bug me about not having a boyfriend until I'm an adult (20+). Argh!!
-I got in town-wide chorus in 5th grade, and town-wide band in 6th grade (in case you don't know, the town-wide concert in my town is prestigious and only chooses the best singers/musicians), and my parents were happy, but didn't really give a crap about the concert…
-My dad will yell at me if I put emphasis on words in my sentences when talking to him (i.e. "I'm GOING to the bathroom now, PLEASE don't remind me to brush my teeth again…"). He thinks I'm giving him an attitude when I really don't mean it…
-Every time I need to tell them something while we're "arguing," I always have to say, "Can I PLEASE say something?" Otherwise, they'll say, "Listen to ME," and say what they want to say – it's gotten to the point where I'm afraid to tell them how I feel about something…and they expect me to always listen to them when they don't listen to me!
And this is just the tip of the iceberg. Point is, I don't get much freedom. I may be only 12, but I feel that I should have more freedom and privileges. Here's the question – Do you think that I should be allowed to be a little more…free? I'm a pretty mature person for my age. I get mostly straight A's, I help my family and friends whenever I get the chance, I'm only friends with nice, fun kids who don't swear on a regular basis (especially this one girl who always has this positive attitude and is really fun), and…yeah.
If you think I should have more freedom, can you please tell me what I should do? Thanks, and I also want to say that I will delete rude posts. Bye!

please help i am tired and need to go to bed, buti cant find any answers to this on google.

By propagating the idea that condom use is a sin in a location that is a hot bed for aids transfer? Not to mention the refusal of help of homosexuasl and only giving out supplies to those who attend their church services? Seem very manipulative and I know that the red cross has issues with these types of ngos who are causing health risks.

7:36pm
49b West St, Bristol
A dark soul doesn’t make a dark person, but a dark mind. The words of a father who had raised a daughter to accommodate a niche in his life, a sense of unaccomplished purpose, that he’d given the world nothing to remember him by and a child that took his name would fill this gap. And while her mother would take her on picnics alongside her grandmother, he’d read her Dante and encourage her to break away from the traditional. This early symbolism had a profound effect on the girl, raging against normality and the trials of an ordinary life. Maths Textbook ’86, knee length skirts, mum and the pressure from all of those she knew to kiss a boy. Not father, he understood that she was different. It troubled him but he ‘got it’ as she told him emotionally on her fifteenth birthday before introducing him to her first love Liz Sale the next week. She had such belief in her father being the only person alive that understood her being ‘virtually alone’, that when he died only months later she attempted to take her own life, for the first time.
As she stood inhaling the fumes of her own act, back pressed against the rapidly burning timber of her front door, this tortured soul laughed out loud at what she’d done. For the one bed roomed, top floor flat behind her held the memories of her past life, ones which were now smouldering in the depths of an inferno, started many years previously in the caves of her mind.
The blisters forming on her upper back meant little to her, no pain could shatter the absolute beauty of a new start, however difficult that fresh ‘life’ may prove to be. For, unconscious, on a brass built double bed next to an ashen pile of summer shirts and four empty bottles of value vodka, was a woman she’d met three years previously and first kissed two months later. A woman that believed they were in love and that had booked a two night romantic trip to Bruges for the 24th of that month. Now slowly burning to death on her own bed, Turned upon by a psychopathic depressive with access to alcohol and a cigarette lighter.
True, she’d loved the heart and mind and body of her ‘Astrid’ (so she called her for her resemblance to the photographer Astrid Kirchherr), yet in the end the darkness of her mind had led her to the atrocious act. Like an infected sore inside her brain that had inflamed, mutated her father’s words into thoughts of brutal murder. To burn her lover to death on a warm summer’s evening, to take advantage of the flat they rented together was not only to murder ‘Astrid’ but rid herself of the infection. At that, slumped against the far wall, tears of laughter rolling down her face – she was free.
The skin of ‘Astrid’s’ right arm began to peel, dying away at the intense heat of a room falling to wreck itself, the bedroom that she’d spent nights of passion, fatigue and rest within was now giving up its memory to the acrid smoke and curling flames that engulfed it. She gave one last forceful shunt to the door, collapsing to the ground as it gave way, already weakened by the heat. An unbearable surge of flame forced its way through the air as ‘Astrid’ collapsed. Hitting the floor her mind turned to what had happened, the electric kettle to the face. ‘Astrid’ wept, she’d thought she could change her, how wrong she’d been.
Smoke, black, pursed its way through the gap between the door and threshold, finding the ceiling seconds later. Yet all she could do was watch, laughing as her own death drew slowly nearer. The crackle of the fire attacking the wood scared her little, she’d lost her respectability, her intrigue in life, her love, her future and she was glad of it, for now she was soothed by the inevitability of death’s sweet release. Suicide was nothing new to her, three times had she attempted the plunge from Clifton suspension bridge into the Avon Gorge in her youth, only coerced out of the matter by shallow promises of change. Although she’d never succeeded, every time she did so a little piece of her had died, her eyes becoming colder. It was time.
Wood splintered and the air seemed to rip in two as the first shot ricocheted through her shoulder, the second found the upper arm. Into the smouldering heat that now enveloped her body she let out a blood boiling scream as all memories of her dark, tortured life were lost to the fire and the crimson blood that rolled down her right arm. The bullets now embedded in the wall of the corridor had come not from the far end of the hall but the other side of the door caught up in the blaze within. Her head hit the floor, body sliding down the wall, smearing it in her blood. She blinked for a final time before the blackness embraced her. Seeing the two splintered holes at the bottom of the door, just above the letter box made her smile. In her final act she had failed to destroy her own memories, it had been them that had destroyed her.