Trapdance

My boyfriend has recently been inflicting an abhorrent form of mental warfare. Whenever he’s doing his absolute best to shit me, out comes this slow rumble:

“Heads… shoulders… knees and toes…. knees… and… toes….”

That’s all it takes for the goddamn song to be stuck in my head all day. Just like any good torturer (he has a background in hotel security, so I’m sure that skill came into play at some point) he will begin repeating the song, over and over, faster and faster. In the end, he’s usually running around me in circles singing the song at quadruple-speed, flicking the lights on and off until everything starts to resemble the tunnel scene from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

At first, I was retaliating by singing the song back at him in Japanese. It’s one of the few things I can actually remember from my high school classes – we used it to remember names of body parts. In the end, though, that ended up making things even worse – now Adam can torment me with the lyrics in two languages.

My perfect revenge came into play earlier this week.

After he jokingly jabbed an air-punch in my direction for using up all the milk, I quickly stabbed back at him at him with my own fist. Which caused him, by boxer’s reflex, to quickly jab back. Back and forth this went a few more times, then I was able to claim victory.

“Suck shit,” I bellowed with victory. “I just tricked you into dancing. You’ve been TRAPDANCED!”

So now our household has progressed from merely implanting torturous nursery rhymes into each other’s heads, to attempting to trapdance each other. My favourite trapdancing tactics to trick Adam into dancing thus far include:

• That silly shuffle when someone’s in the hallway and you’re both trying to get past each other – then revealing it was deliberate, and I’ve trapdanced him
• Pretending to pass him something, but continually stepping away, forcing him to step closer, then exploding into dance around him – TRAPDANCE! (Note: I recommend against this method when passing a cup of coffee)
• Holding up Adam’s boxing pads and moving around with a suspicious rhythm while he boxes, forcing him to dance around to hit them – boxing trapdance!

I give you only a couple of years before the concept of trapdancing turns into a sequel to Flashdance for the gen-Y flash mob age.

Tagged as: Adam, Dancing, Stupidity