Spaghetti Effect

I spent today's evening with a dear old friend of mine, whom I haven't seen in almost a year.

In that time, his career as a DJ has, um, gotten better.
He got into a fight with one of his bosses, quit, and then was rehired for twice his previous rate.
He learned to drive and bought a BMW.
He lost a bet and tatooed "Prom King" to his knuckles.
He learned to play the guitar. "I'm a mix between Fergie and Jesus," he said.

No, he never went to college. But he did offer to let me drive his Beamer when he takes a 6-month gig in Brooklyn. Am I allowed to hate him?