While we are big fans of multitasking (we’re currently driving, smoking, and failing at the NYT crossword), there are some instances where shit goes too far. Enter “Cell Phone Shuffler,” that annoying two-stepper, who invades the dance floor, texting, emailing and Twittering his stupid face off.

If the glow from the screen wasn’t infuriating enough, the fact that he can neither dance nor operate a cell phone with any coordination, means he’s bumping up on you like a newborn giraffe. Stumbling around, all covered in placenta, it’s disgusting.

So the next time “Cell Phone Shuffler” invades your dance area, fight the urge to phone it in. Instead introduce him to a little number we like to call: “electric slide to the esophagus.”

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