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 Rush, Eagles and The Offspring. That is, until I won the lottery.

Paul McCartney once sang “Money Can’t Buy Me Love,” but I wasn’t looking for affection, only concerts like Lynyrd Skynyrd and ZZ Top. My unlimited wealth allowed me to buy tickets for all the shows, big and small. I saw Soil and The Catheters in clubs, Deep Purple in arenas, and Puddle Of Mudd at those radio station festival shows. Then tragedy hit. After an unruly tailgate party before a Wayne Newton 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 Eric Clapton 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 Dave Koz & Friends, Jewel and Kansas. Oh, and did I mention the free beer? Because I own the local sports complex, all the major breweries, like Bud, Miller and Rolling Rock, 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?