WeddingsAttending a wedding is like being handed a licence to act like a twat. Oh how I laughed when I sobered up and realised I'd nicked most of the plates and cutlery from the posh hotel lunch and those vague memories of stealthily exiting like a cat-burglar had in-fact involved falling out of the hotel, knives and forks clattering onto the steps.
Tell us your wedding stories.
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chthonic, Thu 14 Jul 2005, 15:19)
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Humiliate the bridesmaidWhen I was a seven-year-old tomboy I was forced into a brown and cream scratchy lace dress (this was the 70s) to be a bridesmaid.
At the wedding disco, the DJ went round with his microphone interviewing guests, including me. I told him I liked disco dancing. Everyone went 'aaaaah'.
When the music started I went up with my cousins and had a good old boogie. By this time I'd changed out of the nasty dress back into my good old flared jeans. But I was struck with a sudden and irresistible itch in the region of my bumhole.
So I stuck my hand down the back of my jeans and gave it a good scratch. The DJ saw, announced it to the packed room, and told everyone to look.
I still bear the mental scars.
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Safetyfox, Thu 14 Jul 2005, 16:45,
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