Life
By AJ Aronstein
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February 7, 2006
Roughly four years ago, I promised my parents I would be a millionaire by the time I was 18 years old.
That was a silly, silly promise to make.
Consider the cases of two of my best friends from high school in comparison to my own.
One went on the syndicated version of "Who Wants to be a Millionaire," won $60,000 and was subsequently recruited by an Abercrombie & Fitch model scout who "happened to be watching."
Another bought Google stock at $125, which, at its well-published high, traded at $475.11.
In a hyphenated word: Cha-ching.
I, on the other hand, bought Sirius Radio at $7.20 per share, assuming that all the skeevozies of America would come out of the woodwork to buy chic little Sirius radios and tune into three-way deaf midget wooden-leg porn.
Instead, it turns out that those same skeevozies figured out how to record Howie and get their midget porn for free.
And, instead of winning money on a game show or being recruited by modeling agencies, I worked for a measly two weeks last summer and then spent all of my money on paella and French wine.
In any case, according to my mom, I can forget about the modeling career altogether.
"You think you're a catch?
