Geordie and I were trying to realign the dimethyl plasmatron matrix, you know,
during a routine maintainance cycle, and Data mentioned that somehow our cache
of Coronas was losing temperature, at a rate of, I dunno, 2-3 degrees
Fahrenheit per minute or something, and then all I could hear was Worf saying
"Less talk, more Synthahol!" so we knocked off for the day and went to 10
Forward.
myers
ps: Band was pretty good, but the drinks sucked. Damn I hate replicated sour
mix!!