The Mojo Story

The Mojo Story

..and so it began....
...sitting on my kitchen floor, building a new DC box while indulging in some of the finer versions of ethanol-based liquid refreshment. Halfway through the boxen building, I realized two things....

1. I was out of good scotch.
2. I hadn't started mixing the "mojo" for the party.

Now "mojo" is a particularly vile mixture of pure grain alcohol, Cherry CoolAid powder and chunks of citrus fruits. (Please note the lack of water or any other diluent)

Mojo recipe:
4 gallons (~16 litres if you care) of 97% ethanol.
8 packages of sweetened cherry Cool Aid.
various oranges, limes, lemons, old shoes...cut into large chunks
Mix thoroughly, with bare hand, while chanting "Nothing good can come of this."
Place outside in snow to cool. (keep animals away! This stuff may kill anything smaller than a camel!)

Somewhere around the "mix thoroughly" part, the whisky, which I'd been drinking to aid in building the new DC box, kicked me in the back of the head......Hard.

This scattered my data, and made my numbers go all random, causing a nasty chain reaction of stumbling, losing coordination and dumping 4 gallon of noxious red liquid into a brand new tbird.

I don't mean "splashing a little on the box". I mean pouring 4 gallons of mojo directly into an open case, a direct hit on the northbridge. Now, as we all know, cases are not watertight. The mojo started escaping into every corner of the kitchen. I sprang into action in an attempt to contain the dangerous stuff.

Unfortunately "springing into action" isn't very easy to do when you've just polished off a bottle of whisky. So I sort of "stumbled into mayhem" instead.

My left foot placed itself directly into the PC case, crunching parts galore, my right foot then decided it wanted no part of this and left for vacation. This had the unfortunate result of leaving me with no means of maintaining my upper body's position above the floor.

Please pause here for a visual reference.

relic, dumbfounded look on his face, stained red to his crotch with mojo, one foot in a PC case, the other slipping radiply away causing an awkward "splits" position...with floor awash in red liquid.

I did the only thing I could do. I fell forward, leading with my face, into the ocean of mojo on the floor.

The resulting splash was absolutely amazing.

Bright-red, ethanol-disolved coloring reached the ceiling.

Tendrils of mojo snaked past the cabinet doors and coated the clean dishes and food in the pantry. The telephone immediately took on a pastel pink color as the mojo ethched it's way into every surface.

The moral of the story? If you remember nothing else I've said....at least remember this....never build boxen on the kitchen floor. Happy new Year.