And when I say "a weekend of unprecedented debauchery," this is the kind of thing I mean. I mean the kind of fun one can only have when one is un-sober. The kind of fun that involves Alize and hot tubs and palm trees and brassieres whose cup size defy logic.
Where's the woman to whom that brassiere belongs, you ask? Oh my dears. You are NOT ready for that visual. There's not enough Alize in the world to ready you for that visual.
Just be glad I made it back alive and not pregnant with my Editor's ugly baby. (The man has moobs, people. Moobs! Big ones.)