Beauregard the Doberman,  Bon Mots and Cheap Shots,  I Like Ike

Looking for a lifeline

I think we’ll keep working on a theme.

Yesterday marked the one year anniversary since I brought home Ike.  He was a trainwreck of a dog and I almost stopped and put him down on the way home.  I’m glad I didn’t.  He was supposed to be getting three hots and a cot and get let go in a week or so.  Ike didn’t get the memo.  He hit the porous slate and carpet floors here and got better.  PBE readers chipped in and helped him get better through SND and  I appreciate that.  And here we are.

June 18th marked the three year anniversary of Beauregard’s death.  I can just now talk about that one.  A lot of you were with me back then.  Can you believe that you’ve been reading this drivel for that long?  Me either.  But thanks.  I really do appreciate PBE readers.

Dolpyngyrl took that one.  And now she has a Doberman of her own.  Bixby.

In unrelated news, I took and passed my broker’s exam yesterday.  No one, and I do mean NO ONE is more surprised than I am.  I really didn’t feel that I put the time in to it that I should have and felt that it was going to be a trial run.  We were sitting in the break room and several guys said “Oh yeah, everybody takes it twice”.  Everybody but me bitches.  Like the Series 7 you get your results right away.  The way the Series 7 is set up with Morgan Stanley is they pay you to learn the information.  You clean out your desk the day before the test.  When you push that button if you fail, you’re fired.  For the record, when I pushed that test, I scored a 92 on one of the toughest tests that’s not the California Bar.  They don’t tell you your score on the brokers but I assure you the right letter begins with the word “CONGRATULATIONS.”   In all caps.  Like that.

When you check in for the test they take all your stuff from you.  The room is under surveillance.  I had a slip of paper that was mailed to me from them that they didn’t need up front.  I set it on the desk.  They came by and picked it up.  The security is that tight.  The clerk said to me “do you have your cell phone?”  No, I left mine back in the car, I knew I couldn’t bring it in.  “That’s good because you can’t call a life line in there.”  I laughed and then said “If I call a life line, I’m calling my Dad who challenged this test in the 60’s and passed it.  I don’t need the cell phone to get ahold of him.”  And I didn’t.

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