Listen up, motherfuckers. I'm about to share some very special insider information.
When the Bollinger bottle has run dry (God forbid you drank Veuve Cliquot, you cheap harlot), when the yacht has docked, and when your walk-of-shame down the boulevards of St-Tropez is upon you, it means only one thing: an almighty hangover of epic proportions is on its way.
Now, we will accept partial blame for this, because a) it's hard to refuse a Czar offering you a vintage champagne, and b) weighing 125 lbs means having to sacrifice food, i.e. nothing in your system to soak up the alcohol.
There's only one cure for this kind of sad. And don't even say the word "Gatorade." We don't do pedestrian "sports" drinks. Get your minds out of the gutter.
What your body craves is young coconut water. A natural rehydrant, it will recharge your system within minutes. Which means you'll spend less time in bed, and more time flaunting that taut 125 lb frame on the French Riviera.
Because I (and you) are too sublime to waste time "recovering." After all, another yacht awaits.
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