Hi Mom and Dad,

I just woke up after attending the most far out wedding(s) ever imagined. One of our guys at work, Bobo, who comes from Russia, had to get married and not because of an impending baby arrival. Bobo, according to his lawyer, had to get married in order NOT to get deported. How truly romantic! Perhaps the Refugee Board arranges blind dates.

Bobo’s original choice for a bride is the mother of his daughter. She would not marry him because he snores … and is behind on his child support. The night before the wedding Bobo asked her sister to be his lifetime love. She consented, but only if she received a dowry of two hundred and fifty dollars before going up the aisle. I wonder if she is president of the flat earth society.

The girl friend was upset big time because nobody would tell her where Bobo and her sister were to live. Chances are very good that Bobo already is a lonely groom. And let’s not forget that some mothers find it hard to let go.

For the record, there were three brides and three grooms and their guests all crammed into a dilapidated church called “Heavenly Nuptial Bliss Cathedral.” The walls were lined with church pews giving more room for the three wedding parties to intermingle. Those parties all had to wait while the owner/manager rounded up a retired rabbi to conduct the ceremonies. The ancient priest, who was scheduled for the jobs, quit in disgust when she saw how Bobo was dressed. The Scottish kilt was ok but the T-shirt screamed, “Everybody farts … Get over it.”

Bobo’s lawyer and the photographer had to be separated before serious fisticuffs erupted. The lawyer only wanted a picture of a large wedding group taken previously with Bobo and bride dubbed onto the shoulders of the “stand ins.” The photographer said ok but the lawyer went ballistic over the nine hundred dollar fee. The two exchanged hot words. After the shutterbug scored with an uppercut, the woozy lawyer rose from the floor while the camera kept flashing in his face. I don’t think either knows anything about professional etiquette.

Many “No Drinking Alcohol” signs were everywhere but that did not stop Bobo from opening his own bar. It featured his own homemade “White Lightening.” It had to be ninety percent alcohol with just a hint of liquorice. He charged five dollars a glass. While holding a tray over his head he was followed around the hall very closely by his gloomy bride, very miserable girl friend, and the mother-in-law who frequently lunged at his moneybag. Lets face it, some girls got no aim and others have no appreciation for business talent.

My date for the evening was a colossal bore who got drunk on one sip of Bobo juice. While returning from the washroom he let himself get picked up by a bridesmaid from one of the other wedding parties. After falling straight down on his massive keester, he rolled over and began doing “The Swim.” While many giggling and laughing women surrounded him, his hand brushed against an ankle of Bobo‘s mother-in-law. She let out a holler that would have rattled a ghost.

Rather than view any carnage I left quickly and laughed all the way home in a taxi.

Keep chuckling … All my love,

Deb

P.S. I told the cab driver about Bobo selling his own booze. Turns out he is Bobo’s cousin and he went back to collect some unpaid debts.