Meeting Mme Mojo

I can't quite shake the vision that my Mme Mojo is some glamorous Joan Crawford inspired drag queen, resplendent in 1920's embroidered chinese shawls and dozing on a red chaise lounge, a cigarette holder cradled in one perfectly manicured hand.

And any time I even so much as get a little pique, she lazily opens one heavily kohled eye, raises the cigarette to her lipsticked red mouth, takes a long draw and exhales slowly.

Closes her eyes, shakes her little head and drawls...

*Nooo, no nooo, dahhhling...*

Replaces the eye mask over her long lashes and falls back to sleep.

I think we're in for a stormy relationship.