>> WEDDING TOASTS <<
- To the beautiful fetus and determined shotgun owner who brought us here today!
- To Suzanne, the chunkiest anorexic I know!
- To a thrilling lifetime together spent watching thousands upon thousands of hours of television!
- To K-Y Jelly, and lots of it!
- To Clyde Poppenhoffer's Krazy Kazoo Orkestra, whose dignified rendition of "Just the Two of Us" brought hot tears of nostalgia to our eyes!
- To getting so drunk that we all swap wives for the night, then feel so ashamed we never talk again!
- May your goiter always smell of roses, and your upcoming rhinoplasty not transform you into a piggishly deformed freak.
- To Starfire – may you always rest happy in the delusion that Tom's of Maine products control your B.O.
- May your third floor powder room toilet always be clogged with diamond necklaces.
- To my parents, who murdered each other after thirty years of thundering boredom and misunderstanding!
- 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.
- May those pictures of you with the lotion-slicked gourd be forever purged from the Internet.
- Here's to the biggest fake tits God ever saw fit to give to a black man.
- To John, a guy for whom cutting three monthly alimony checks apparently just isn't enough!
- May Cossacks with fresh pedicures dance merrily in your succulent borscht!
- To Fred, a real miserable bastard with some seriously creamy thighs!
- Viva la Chilitos!
- 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.
- I like big butts and I cannot lie!
- To Steve and Amelia – may your so-called love eventually ripen into violence.
- Here's to being homeless, morbidly obese, and riddled with impetigo!
- To Phyllis, who silently endures my flagrant philandering!
- May your crack pipe always be caked with resin.
- To peace in the Midwest!
- This is His body, this is His blood – watch out stomach, HERE COMES GOD!
- So here's to Trixxi – may this, your fourth octogenarian husband, actually will you enough cash so you can finally retire from porn.
- May your leg be gruesomely severed in a work-related accident, allowing you to suckle at the luxurious teat of Federal benefits!
- May Allah protect you from vindictive hunchbacks!
- To Fred – the best-damned middle manager I've ever sphincter-tongued!
- May your horse run as swiftly as an idiot's fleeting thoughts, and may the Dingoes of Prosperity drink from your finger bowl!
- To my lovely new wife – may my brother continue to give you earth-shattering orgasms.
- To Tim – the finest trainer of the sweetest Pitbull ever to tear the throat out of an unsuspecting toddler.
- To my oldest bud Frank – may you not get totally bored spending the rest of your life slamming the same piece of tail.
- May your wet nurse stay milky, and your home tutor never fall ill from dyslexia!
- May all your babies be born with healthy flippers.
- May your domesticated beasts produce compost more fertile than than my promiscuous first wife Camille.
- 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.
- And to Def Lepard, whose rocking tunes remind us what love really means.
- Here's to good friends, tonight is kind of topless.
- To Jack Daniels, who convinced most of us to even bother showing up at this lovely, wonderful family reunion with the open bar.
- May all your gay cousins be named Miguel.
- May you never be serenaded by a Mongolian throat singer.
- To Sam – my oldest and dearest nemesis.
- To Carpooling!
- To MTV, and the pre-teen Idaho gangsta mall wiggaz who spring from its loins!
- To Audrey and Sam – may the inseparable bond of your union not spell an end to our occasional threesomes!
- And may your recently widowed mother-in-law not move into your new spare bedroom, permeating it with that sour-smelling geriatric funk.
- To Karen and Emily – let the conjugal turf chomping begin!
- 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.
- Hey, after four or five glasses, this André shit don't suck so bad!