When the bride and groom were cutting the cake I just happened to be standing behind the bagpipe player so I took my camera and slyly pointed it up his kilt to document his undergarment situation, purely for historical reasons, you understand. Don't worry people! I chickened out because I knew the flash would get me busted. I didn't want to get kicked out of the reception until I had my fill of cake and wine so I wisely chickidy-checked myself before I rickidy-wrecked myself.
When the announcement was made for all the single women to assemble on the dance floor I knew it was bouquet catchin' time. I swaggered up to the center stage with one of those I'm-not-drunk-I'm-just-so-smooth saunters (you know what I'm talking about) and read the riot act to the other single women just in case they had any crazy ideas about getting between my liquored up self and that bouquet.
The competition was fierce. The bride was even intentionally trying to toss that bouquet into the hands of some relative-type chick, but fate, yes fate, intervened and bounced that bouquet right into my hands!
We barely escaped with our lives, chased out of town as we were by a lynch mob of enraged single women.
The bouquet doesn't lie folks! You're not invited, but send cash nonetheless!