15 December 2010

A Story About Ted Danson, and How He Saved My Soul...

Today I was reminded of a time, not so long ago, when I was trying to help Frankenberry save Christmas. It was an odd time, that I don't care to relive; so to take my mind off of it, I am going to tell you about the time I went rollerblading with Ted Danson.

I was about 19 years old, and fresh out of rehab. I had been working for a Jewish family just outside of the perimeter in Atlanta. We were an OTP business by about 1.2 miles. Classy place, surrounded by busted strip clubs and what I can only hope was anything but a Buffet, like the brown and gold sign outside said.

Anyway, one day while I was leaving work, and heading over to some friends to shower, change, and get ready for a night of club hopping, and pill popping; I came across an old man playing a fiddle and playing it hot…No wait…There was no old man or fiddle. I don't think I've ever even seen a fiddle. Stupid radio. I was heading over to my friend’s place to get ready, when I saw something I thought I'd never see. I saw Tony Danza, on the side of the road, doing the robot. That’s right, that man can really shake his groove thing.

Wait a minute… This wasn't the Tony Danza story, was it? No, this was the Ted Danson story!!! My bad.

So this is the story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down…Sorry, sometimes I just have to break it down a little bit.

There I was, driving through Midtown, looking for a place to park. Well, I wasn't actually driving. My sister was. So my sister was driving and WE were trying to find a parking spot. Yes, that’s right.

Okay, so we were looking for a parking spot, so we could go get our rage on, and that’s when I saw him. Ted Danson. Crazy old man was just walking down the street like he wasn’t Ted Fucking Danson! I mean, come on! It was TED FUCKING DANSON!!! You don't just see a man like that every day.

I reached into the backseat of my sister’s car and grabbed our rollerblades of rage, and I dove out of the car! TUCK AND ROLL, MOTHER FUCKER!!!! It was glorious! I was like a technicolored (Did I mention I was wearing tie dyed UFOs and the least heterosexual shirt I could find? Well I was. If Prince can get the ladies while breaking gender stereotypes, then so can I!) ball of Goddamned fury! Beautiful, I tell you! Just beautiful!

I am running and rolling and hopping and sliding all over the fucking place! I mean EVERYWHERE! Dodging cars, and trucks, and bikes, and mailboxes from Hell, and even some birds and dogs. I was like a champion dodging type person and junk! It was incredible!

What was Ted MF Danson doing during this time, you ask? WELL I'LL FUCKING TELL YOU WHAT HE WAS DOING!! He was still walking and keeping it cool, like only TED FUCKING DANSON CAN DO!!!

So I smacked that son of bitch upside the head with a pair of pink and purple rollerblades with dolphin stickers and micromachines stuck to them, and I said, “Don’t just stand there, bust a move!”

He didn't hesitate. Before I knew it, he had those blades of rage on his tiny feet, and he looked me in the eye and said, “It.Has.Been.Brought.TED…MOTHER FUCKER!!!!!!” and he was off! Just like that, he had a head start and was headed for whatever place he thought we were headed. I slapped on my blades of rage and was right behind him. Jumping midgets and babies and baby midgets and an old couple making out on a bench waiting for the Marta bus to pick them up and take them to their sex den in the mountains! I even grinded down the crutches of some kid with a broken leg.

That’s when I saw it. I saw what we were racing to. We were racing to Hooters, where everybody knows your name.

Lucky for me, Ted Goddamned Danson is a sucker for a nice pair of boobs, and he got distracted enough for me to make my move. So I pants’d him and made it through the doors first. Got all the beer and chicken wings my tummy could handle. All at the expense of the Great Ted Danson. So it goes…

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