That's not exactly what the dance is called, but doesn't that sound catchy? If not, it's a pretty close second to its real name -- the Liberian Whop.
I discovered this dance after checking out Quddus' blog, The Q Side.
The dance itself reminds me of something I would do outside of a closed bathroom door when I had to pee as a child. There's also elements of moves I'm sure somebody's uncle (who prefers you call him something like "Jet" or "Sweet Uncle...") will be doing once your auntie's start trying to do the "Single Ladies" routine after that extra shot of Wild Turkey on Thanksgiving.
That said, I'd probably still do this dance on a public sidewalk if you took me to a good enough Happy Hour.
It looks a lot less complicated than jerking. And the Liberian Whop doesn't require that I wear nut hugging pants that will kill any viable chance of me having children. I'd bust my ass trying to do what they're doing in this video at the club anyway. All that bouncing around and shit. The hell I look like pretending hard wood floors are the trampoline remix?
The worst the Whop can do is maybe have me inadvertently bump my knees together. Thus, we have a winner in the Whop, folks.
I like to think that I'm going to end up international so as soon as I score that show, top-selling book, and Oprah's touch so I'm going to need to be able to fly around the world be prepared to be regionally dance friendly.
Now I've looked at my Statcounter and I've noticed I have regular visitors from Romania and Malaysia. Also parts of the Caribbean, Asia, and countries my old geography teachers would be ashamed of me for never having heard of. How do ya'll jig over there? Please send me videos and educate me.
Videos excluding porn, of course. I've noticed quite a few of my random Iranian visitors only come for the site looking for Beyonce or Britney Spears porn. That or monkey sex between Sarah Palin and Big Red (yes, Kool-Aid). Nasty, nasty.
Anyhow, I think it's only right that I start incorporating international jigs onto the blog. I remember posting about some U.K. dance that basically encouraged migraine headaches. While it may not be my kind of jig, I don't mind sharing it with ya'll.
Send me more gems like this, please. It's time that we all share the wealth. "Houston, Atlanta, Brooklyn to New Orleans" can't do all of the work.
You know, I'm starting to become disappointed in some of my family and friends. Oh, and ya'll, too, readers. You all are just as guilty as the ones I know personally.
Now, let me explain again how this here thing works: We are in the circle of foolishness. That means if you know of something ign't, you share it with me. If some of ya'll can email me about promoting PETA, body spray, and Amerie scratching her head certainly you can keep me up with the latest dances.
I'm out here in Cali, folks. They don't dance. They two step and body roll after two over priced drinks 15 minutes before the club lets out at 12:45. That is, unless you're at a hood spot and quite frankly, I only go to hood spots if they're in my hood or in a hood I'm familiar with. I haven't reached that point with LA yet. I'm liable to get shot up by Barney and raped by Baby Bop for wearing the wrong shade of purple around here.
Besides, I jig, I'on (yes I'on) jerk. That means my people - particularly you, my southern brethren - have to keep me current. I can't keep calling my younger brother and niece for the scoop. If I ask my niece about all the new dances when I call her though she may tell me I have to maintain the image that education comes first. Well, first I tell her she's the most beautiful girl in the world and then I tell her to read a book. You get what I'm saying, though.
That said, this dance is "new" to me but not to Dallas, Houston and surrounding jiggable metropolitan areas. A friend from home told me about it last night on the phone. Naturally, as she was still talking I Googled "Party Boys Flex" and found the above video within seconds.
Search game proper.
Like the dances before it I see that it's essentially the movements of a retarded homosexual. Obviously, that doesn't bother me. I'm half way there anyway.
Upon further research (i.e. another quick Google search) I found the mp3. This song came out 8 days after my birthday....in April.
This would have been a perfect post-b-day gift. I'm about to send out a mass text message (including my mama, who informed me about the Halle Berry), but let me also remind each of you who enjoys this blog that we needn't let this happen again.
I am now 25. That means while I can still twirk (a few months ago a friend challenged me to a twirk off, she had body aches the next day) we don't know how long my knees are going to last. I messed them up a couple of years ago from running and haven't checked them out due to me losing health insurance in April.
Unless Obama and Congress get it together, my dreams of dropping it well into my 80s could be dashed. I have to make sure I live up to my prime jiggable years while I still have them.
So when you discover something new, you have to send it to me. I will forgive everyone this time, but don't let it happen again.
Now go think about what you've done...then go flex your guilt away.
