The cards were stacked against me before I was born. I came from a long line of concertholics, people who couldn’t get enough of live music like Neil Sedaka and Herman’s Hermits Starring Peter Noone. My father used to be Elton John’s personal driver, while my mother worked as the seamstress for his band.

Because of my family’s association with Captain Fantastic, or Uncle Reggie as I used to call him, I saw all the big shows. I spent my seventh birthday backstage with Chuck Berry, my 13th with Cher and my driver’s ed. days with Glen Campbell. Yeah, I was a wineman for the county.

Then around the time I turned 21 I took a good accounting of myself and realized that my future was uncertain. I had no education, no job, no friends, and worse of all, no money to feed the concert monkey on my back. I had no way of affording tickets for Britney Spears, George Strait and Metallica. That is, until I won the lottery.

The Beatles once sang “Money Can’t Buy Me Love,” but I wasn’t looking for affection, only concerts like Super Furry Animals and Pink. My unlimited wealth allowed me to buy tickets for all the shows, big and small. I saw Hot Water Music and Sworn Enemy in clubs, Deep Purple in arenas, and Paul Oakenfold and Jane’s Addiction at those radio station festival shows. Then tragedy hit. After an unruly tailgate party before a Ronan Keating performance, the owner of the local arena banned concerts from the sports complex forever. I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked.

And bought the sports complex. However, the owner wouldn’t break up the set, so not only did I have to buy the arena and the football stadium, but the basketball team, the football team and the hockey team as well. Now, if I’m not going to concerts like Korn or Elvis Costello, I’m sitting in my private skybox cheering my teams on to victory. Plus, because I have more money than I know what to do with, I’m constantly surrounded by actresses, supermodels, and TV anchorwomen. I have no shame.

So, that’s my story. I’m richer beyond belief, I’m with a different beautiful woman every night, and I always have the best seats for Sting, Jewel and Rod Stewart. Oh, and did I mention the free beer? Because I own the local sports complex all the major breweries, like Bud, Miller and Keystone, send me complimentary cases in hopes of getting an exclusive concession deal at my facilities. Yes, I’ve truly hit rock bottom. I must be the unluckiest guy in the world.

Please, for the love of God, won’t you help me?