My Two Cents.

They say money can’t buy you happiness, but I just spent nearly a G to have a grand old time in Chicago.

My last night there consisted of frolicking in Lake Michigan with four lovely ladies. It was so dark I could barely see more than three feet in front of me. When no one was looking I wandered off and stared into the blackened horizon thinking about how unbelievably lucky I am. Some people never get to leave the city they live in or attend a concert, what more attend one in another state.

Money can’t buy happiness, it’s true. But I will be the first person to say that if I didn’t have any, I wouldn’t be able to do a lot of the things that make me happy. Like witness the epic fuckery known as Lollapalooza, take an architectural boat ride along the Chicago river, or eat the best pork chop I’ve ever tasted on the 95th floor of the John Hancock building.


Why do I work hard? To make money. Why do I make money? To make memories. The memories are priceless. The singing “We are young,” at the top of my lungs down the street with my best friend is what makes it all worth it. Money doesn’t make memories, but money gives you financial freedom that allows more room to make those memories.

Just make sure you still feel rich without the money, and what counts the most can still never be bought.

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