In my family, we have an expression: “going mongo”. It roughly means doing something with more enthusiasm than pre-planning. When you find yourself standing on a chair with live electrical wires in one hand, a chandelier in the other, and a screwdriver in your mouth – you know you have gone mongo.
My dad is the most mongo of all. A lot of times, his mongo escapades end in unanticipated, but predictable, fires or explosions. For example, firing up the leaky old braising torch in the kitchen resulted in a massive fireball which ultimately burned the family room carpet and melted the kitchen floor. Or squirting gas onto a bonfire with the resulting explosion burning all the hair off his head/face and forearms. Or lighting the kitchen blinds on fire and having them all collapse into a pile in the sink. Or dropping molten lead onto my foot. Or getting my little brother to relight the pilot light on the water heater… yeah, that one went well.
I’ll admit, I have inherited his tendency to go mongo – although I’ve still never caught anything on fire. Well, almost never. But, hey, if you are going to go, go mongo.
