I'm Amped Up and I'm Gonna Slap the Shit Out of This Doorframe

Buckle up, third floor reception area, because I am downright buzzin’, and I plan on showcasing that in the only way befitting a man of my stature: slapping the shit out of this doorframe as I pass beneath it. Nothing helps me punctuate the moment of my meaningless exit from a room like one of those bad boys.

And to be honest, I’m not even sure why I do it. The motive varies. Maybe I just signed a client. Maybe I completed a business deal. Maybe I just crushed up an Adderall and snorted it off the 3rd floor toilet. But regardless I am feeling fiery and I want the entire office – including this structural crown-molded frontispiece – to know it!

Sure, HR has told me to tone it down before. But why should I listen to those squares? Their name is letters, and the only lettername you should listen to is J.P. Morgan. You know, the one on my fat paychecks. Besides, I’m clearly not the only one who does this. Check every doorframe in this damn building. They got more hand DNA on them than an OJ glove. So can the shame, mmk? This is a natural human reaction. Babies cry. Toddlers put weird stuff in their mouth. Grown men get hyphy and windmill their fully extended arms into the frames of doors. These are just facts.

And hey, not everyone is capable enough to even reach the thing. It’s like, I’ve worked really hard on being tall. I should be able to show that off. What if I’m taking a signing meeting? There’s no better way to look alpha in front of potential clients than with a resonant slap of manhand on doorwood. Stop saying it has to do with insecurity. I just said that I’m tall. C’mon.

In fact, the slaphappy tradition is staple of athletic competitors around the globe. Elite sportsmen throughout history have known the ecstasy of the doorframe slap. I believe it started with the Mayans when they played jai alai. Did they play jai alai? It’s the one with the curvy sticks and the ball. Like baby lacrosse with gourds. Whatever, I’ll have my assistant look it up. Babe! Look up jai alai! … No I don’t know how to spell it, just make sure you do it right when you type this up!

So, guys, back off with the accusations. This is a byproduct of success. Sometimes a man just achieves at such a high level that his arms flail upwards in an entirely unconscious yet totally boss gesture. Slammo! God, I love it. Now if you excuse me, I’ve got a meeting about managing Bono’s charity sunglasses portfolio. Sarah! Let’s wrap this bitch up. … what? Of course I’m gonna slap the door frame on the way out. No, don’t write this down. Ka-slap!

- Zeke Freeman
Dictated but not read

Grant Lease