Last week I decided to make an honest pimp of myself. Well I decided a while back, but I made it happen last week. You see a pimp friend of mine--names will remain anonymous to protect the guilty--joined me in a crash training course for the pmp exam. Little did we know that meant a crash diet for some, a crash course in mathematics for others, and a crash head first into boredom.
It all seemed nice from afar, a course provider promising a success on the test with the added carrot of a week away from the office. Well sometimes the cheetah catches its prey because its just lame or retarded, and that doesn't make for much of a chase. I went to a cheetah course and it was lame, retarded, and more gulag than gitmo, but that's hardly reason to bust out the sparklers and champagne. Oh, and then there's the preechy no caffeine or carbs bs. Are you kidding me!?! That's how I graduated college in two years and have enough hokey financial services certifications to do a decent game of scrabble with the letters behind my name.
Sadly those letters don't matter, as afterall who's a better merchant than a pimp. At least I got to study under the tutelege of a savant who even tried to pimp me! Pimpin a pimp, who would havr thunk it?
So anyway I was trapped in Stalag 17 for a week and all I got was this blog. At least you got Hilton Rewards points at the Hanoi Hilton, let alone the bones miles doled out for suffering through "1 Night in Paris". Oh fyi. They could have called it five minutes in Paris.