Once upon a time, in the great city by the bay, lived a delightful young lady. We shall call her "Aubrey", and while she’s not a princess in this story, she doesn’t really mind being treated like one now and again, especially by hot suitors over the age of 25. Anyway, Aubrey had a good job, a nice house, une petite menagerie, and some really rockin’ cowboy boots, not to mention a multitude of formal dresses and really, really soft towels. But we digress…Aubrey, new to the city, was enjoying herself just swimmingly until one day, she realized that she had lost it.
"Egads!" cried Aubrey. "My MOJO! I must find it! I wonder if I misplaced it, or if it was stolen, or – hmm, I wonder if it’s truly lost." The tragedy of losing one’s Mojo didn’t escape our leading lady; after all, Mojo is a very very good thing to have. "Perhaps it’s in one of these boxes that still need to be unpacked…"
..and with that, our heroine went about attempting to rid her (miniscule) palace of any and all unnecessary accoutrements, i.e., plastic crates and cardboard boxes full of stuff that used to be important but now just doesn’t fit. Three (thousand) days later, a weary Aubrey still hadn’t found her mojo (though her house looked spectacular.)
"Hmm." thought Aubrey. "I should retrace my steps. When’s the last time I remember HAVING my Mojo?" She thought back. It wasn’t at the Halloween party – no, that was a bust…she would prefer to forget GOING HOME ALONE even after donning the short skirt and fishnets. (I mean, really…fishnets? That’s hot.) Nor was it at the Naughty Nurse party, but then again, she WAS talking to a strapping young buck…emphasis on ‘young’, being that he was 23. Was it the weekend before? A-ha! Perhaps it was! There was some success that one evening…that was it. He had stolen her Mojo. And it was up to her to get it back.
So our principessa decided to take matters into her own hands, even if she had no idea how to reclaim one’s Mojo. But damnit, she’d try. So the first thing the very next day, she went to visit the Mojo-Robber and demand it be returned to its rightful owner. Despite claims of "You’re crazy" and many questions of "Now, how much have you REALLY had to drink?", Aubrey was undaunted. It was HER Mojo and she was going to get it back. Right. NOW.
After being released from jail with just a warning about drinking too much on a weekday, Aubrey proceeded to drown her sorrows at the local watering hole. (I mean, it was only a WARNING.) Lamenting her loss, she confided in the bartender her quest to reclaim her Mojo, only to notice a familiar glint in his eye. From the mirror behind the bar, she caught her reflection, and was startled to see what she did…her MOJO! She hadn’t lost it after all, she just hadn’t recognized it. (After all, Mojo can take on many different forms, especially in a new city.) Delighted, Aubrey leapt over the bar and planted a big wet one on the bartender (a hot, strapping young buck himself!) – she had found it! Her Mojo! Hallelujah.
With that, our heroine ran out of the bar, ready to take on the city reinvigorated. And that, my friends, is how Aubrey Got Her Groove Back.
Oh yeah. She lived happily ever after with her prince in a house in the city (with great views) where she was allowed to have as many trash bags as she would like without having to pay an extra $90 for them and never, ever cut up her cardboard boxes as instructed by her landlord because really, who has four extra hours for that shit?