Back in college, from time to time my roomies would have parties which featured the alcohol-intensive libation known as "wop". Everybody loved our wop, and people would come from miles around (even from Coon Rapids!) to drink our wop with a brat and 'kraut.
The day of the wop would always follow the same routine. First, we had to clean all the gook left in our cooler from the last party until it was spic and span. We'd hose it - and each other - down until the cooler sparkled, and everyone present was left with wet backs. Each of us would grab a towel, head back inside, and start making our wop in earnest.
Next we'd mix the boozy base of the concoction. First, we dumped all the booze we had purchased into the cooler. The mixture was heavy on the uber-potent Everclear. If you want a wop with a kick, you can't afford to be niggardly with the Everclear.
Then we'd soak the fruit in the booze for several hours. The fruit is key to a good wop, since their natural juices tend to retard the harshness of the booze. (Plus, the liquor-soaked fruit is a great home remedy for when you get a frog in your throat.) We included copious amounts of citrus fruits which gave our wop its trademark limey flavor.
As for the rest of the solution - we improvised. We were always trying to improve our formula, using our guests as unwitting guinea pigs.
Then the guests would arrive. Dozens of our closest friends would gather to drink our wop and choke back a brat. Some engaged in lively conversation; most of them puffing on their fags.
We had such a great time, we always left wondering "where did the daygo?"
Inevitably, one of us smart-asses would exclaim in faux indignation, "Did you just call me a 'dago'?!" To which came the inevitable reply, "No - I just forgot to hit the space bar, and you are a hypersensitive knee-jerk dumbass."