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Worst Wedding Toasts
Worst Wedding Toasts
1 To the beautiful fetus and determined shotgun owner who brought us here today!
2 To Suzanne, the chunkiest anorexic I know!
3 To a thrilling lifetime together spent watching thousands upon thousands of hours of television!
4 To K-Y Jelly, and lots of it!
5 To Clyde Poppenhoffer's Krazy Kazoo Orkestra, whose dignified rendition of "Just the Two of Us" brought hot tears of nostalgia to our eyes!
6 To getting so drunk that we all swap wives for the night, then feel so ashamed we never talk again!
7 May your goiter always smell of roses, and your upcoming rhinoplasty not transform you into a piggishly deformed freak.
8 To Starfire ‒ may you always rest happy in the delusion that Tom's of Maine products control your B.O.
9 May your third floor powder room toilet always be clogged with diamond necklaces.
10 To my parents, who murdered each other after thirty years of thundering boredom and misunderstanding!
11 What can I say about the groom? He's loving, smart, and if it weren't for his fundamentalist Christian family, he and I would be running a Bed & Breakfast in Massachusetts.
12 May those pictures of you with the lotion-slicked gourd be forever purged from the Internet.
13 Here's to the biggest fake tits God ever saw fit to give to a black man.
14 To John, a guy for whom cutting three monthly alimony checks apparently just isn't enough!
15 May Cossacks with fresh pedicures dance merrily in your succulent borscht!
16 To Fred, a real miserable bastard with some seriously creamy thighs!
17 Viva la Chilitos!
18 To a brilliant writer on his special day. May you one day actually finish the lousy screenplay you've been blabbing about endlessly for the past FIVE years.
19 I like big butts and I cannot lie!
20 To Steve and Amelia ‒ may your so-called love eventually ripen into violence.
21 Here's to being homeless, morbidly obese, and riddled with impetigo!
22 To Phyllis, who silently endures my flagrant philandering!
23 May your crack pipe always be caked with resin.
24 To peace in the Midwest!
25 This is His body, this is His blood ‒ watch out stomach, HERE COMES GOD!
26 So here's to Trixxi ‒ may this, your fourth octogenarian husband, actually will you enough cash so you can finally retire from porn.
27 May your leg be gruesomely severed in a work-related accident, allowing you to suckle at the luxurious teat of Federal benefits!
28 May Allah protect you from vindictive hunchbacks!
29 To Fred ‒ the best-damned middle manager I've ever sphincter-tongued!
30 May your horse run as swiftly as an idiot's fleeting thoughts, and may the Dingoes of Prosperity drink from your finger bowl!
31 To my lovely new wife ‒ may my brother continue to give you earth-shattering orgasms.
32 To Tim ‒ the finest trainer of the sweetest Pitbull ever to tear the throat out of an unsuspecting toddler.
33 To my oldest bud Frank ‒ may you not get totally bored spending the rest of your life slamming the same piece of tail.
34 May your wet nurse stay milky, and your home tutor never fall ill from dyslexia!
35 May all your babies be born with healthy flippers.
36 May your domesticated beasts produce compost more fertile than than my promiscuous first wife Camille.
37 To veal ‒ the cutest pack of protein on four immature legs kept anemic in a tiny cage until it's heartlessly butchered by a thick-necked, wife-beating redneck.
38 And to Def Lepard, whose rocking tunes remind us what love really means.
39 Here's to good friends, tonight is kind of topless.
40 To Jack Daniels, who convinced most of us to even bother showing up at this lovely, wonderful family reunion with the open bar.
41 May all your gay cousins be named Miguel.
42 May you never be serenaded by a Mongolian throat singer.
43 To Sam ‒ my oldest and dearest nemesis.
44 To Carpooling!
45 To MTV, and the pre-teen Idaho gangsta mall wiggaz who spring from its loins!
46 To Audrey and Sam ‒ may the inseparable bond of your union not spell an end to our occasional threesomes!
47 And may your recently widowed mother-in-law not move into your new spare bedroom, permeating it with that sour-smelling geriatric funk.
48 To Karen and Emily ‒ let the conjugal turf chomping begin!
49 To Tom and Katie – May you both achieve the highest level of Operating Thetan, and may the galaxy's dark lizard-like warlords quake before you and your Ayn Rand-meets-Flash Gordon tax-shelter cult.
50 Hey, after four or five glasses, this André shit don't suck so bad!
10/10/2005 12:08 am
*chuckles* warm xx|