My dear Canadian mum continues with her generosity! This time I’m invited to my alter-ego’s Canadian wedding! While I was only copied onto an email to the wedding designer, I’m still certain they meant to invite me. Here’s how it transpired…
Just wanted to let you know there are 19 tables including the family table
And my gratuitous reply:
Hello again Ronda!It’s been a little while since I’ve heard from you and I was hoping you weren’t cross with me about missing our family get together in Toronto. I have to admit that it slipped my mind and when I didn’t receive those airline tickets from you I really didn’t know where to start in hitchhiking from Australia to Canada. Even so, I’m sure you sent them and I’ll focus my blame on the irregularities of the postal service.
Well, what an exciting reason to contact me! A wedding! Of course I’d love to attend and look forward to this with much gusto. I appreciate the notification that there are only 19 tables too, and I’ll endeavor not to invite too many people. Should we just say I’ll fill one spot on each table and leave it at that? You may need to up your budget on beverages though – most of the friends I intend to invite are… I’m not sure what you’d call them in Canada? Over here we’d say “bloody piss-heads”. Maybe I should just call them “veritable dipsomaniacs”. On a brighter note though, there is a French tradition that proclaims good luck on a bride and groom who drink the leftover alcohol from the wedding out of a toilet bowl. My friends would assure that this drink was minuscule. Unfortunately they’d most likely leave the toilets in a far from sanitary condition as well.
Can I assume I get to join you on the family table? I have some great ideas for centerpieces too and I’ll happily forward them on to Tamara for her consideration. How about this one? Nothing could be as classy or hint at love’s eternal repose like a skeletal bride and groom banging pelvises in the middle of the table! Do you think it’s possible for the skeletons to kiss without lips or tongues? Having said that, he probably couldn’t slip her the ol’ bone either. Oh, wait a minute…
How formal is the occasion? Do I need to wear my black shorts or will a black beer hugger suffice? I remember once getting the attire completely wrong and turned up wearing only a kilt (with nothing underneath, of course), a pink t-shirt and a snorkel. I couldn’t work out why I was getting such offended looks until I realized that in my inebriated state I’d misplaced the kilt. I did have my good black beer hugger though so I didn’t look like a complete ass. Even so, there were a few tears and raised voices for a little while but my quick wit calmed them down with a magic trick called “Hide the Casket”. They were so appreciative of this trick that somebody accidentally knocked me on the head as he eagerly tried to congratulate me and I recall no more of the funeral after that point.
Once again I’ll have to beg passage to Canada from you. You can send the 19 tickets to me electronically if you like to avoid the hassles with the post like we had last time.
Can’t wait to see you there!