So the other day some bro says to me, "You know, you've got the raw power of a trained assassin with the world's biggest driver, can pair enviable size and stamina in the bedroom with hilarious wit in the office, is there anything you wish you had?" Even though I answered by condescendingly blowing cigar smoke in his face, it got me thinking. It was so easy all along. You can't be a baller without your own hottub. Can't do it. Not in this town. It's really an embarrassment that all this time I've been taking my mistresses to the cigar room or cabana house like some two-bit chump. No more. 2013 is a new year, and with our huge 4th quarter numbers, I can finally have my interns line my coke up on a spa rim like a respectable social drug user, and get a warm jet massage while an Avenu VIP hostess gives an underwhelming underwater beej. It's about time.
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