We were bored to death and fooling around at work today, and the subject of my wrestling background came up (as sometimes it does). Well, the folks wanted some demonstrations, but I wasn't about to start doing backflips and cartwheels on our floor (it's horribly uneven and made of metal bars in some places). Nor could I really slam anyone without hurting them. So I decided to just show a few basic tricks.
The one I was showing was "getting your head slammed into a table". Where someone else flings you at a table and, preferably, you make the loud THUMP sound with your hands instead of your head. Having long hair, I can make it look pretty realistic as I've learned how to toss it so it's hard to see that my forehead stops an inch or so above impact.
Of course, the funniest things happen when someone walks in at the wrong part of a conversation...so our elderly, polite hiring manager/personnel director walks off the elevator just in time to see me apparently getting my head slammed into my desk by the 6'2" sports editor while the rest of the newsroom is watching, and seeing me reeling backwards and onto the floor as though I'd just been hit with a frying pan.
It took us ten minutes to convince her that the sports editor wasn't attacking me and I was actually fine, and about another ten to get her to stop hyperventilating. Oops.
The one I was showing was "getting your head slammed into a table". Where someone else flings you at a table and, preferably, you make the loud THUMP sound with your hands instead of your head. Having long hair, I can make it look pretty realistic as I've learned how to toss it so it's hard to see that my forehead stops an inch or so above impact.
Of course, the funniest things happen when someone walks in at the wrong part of a conversation...so our elderly, polite hiring manager/personnel director walks off the elevator just in time to see me apparently getting my head slammed into my desk by the 6'2" sports editor while the rest of the newsroom is watching, and seeing me reeling backwards and onto the floor as though I'd just been hit with a frying pan.
It took us ten minutes to convince her that the sports editor wasn't attacking me and I was actually fine, and about another ten to get her to stop hyperventilating. Oops.

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