Another one of my colleagues got hauled to the hitching post last weekend; again, he knew her a bit less than a year. (But at least this one isn't pregnant.)
Ah, the pure, energetic idiocy of a Russian wedding. The bride's mother was dressed in a dress that looked like some sort of weird disco ball and had her tits pushed up under her chin. There were middle-aged women diancing around to Russian disco music from the 70's, men doing traditional folk dances, a few young slatterns shaking their ta-tas, and of course me, English Teacher A and English Teacher P, drunk as motherfuckers.
ETP invited some band he knew to play at the wedding -- a group called Shannon, two Russian guys who dress like Scotsmen but play traditional Irish music. As it turned out, he didn't have money to pay them, having mistakenly assumed they'd do it as a favor. So the bride and groom had to break into their wedding cash to do so. (It was like $600 or something, but ETP claims he'll pay them back.) ETA, his face glowing like a beacon from all the vodka (and cognac and beer and champagne and absinthe) he'd drunk, responded by charging onto the stage and telling them their kilts were all wrong.
Afterwards we for some reason went to the nightclub until 6:30am -- I think we just wanted to show off our ties -- and then the next day, at 11:30 there was a day-long boat trip up the Volga with the bride and groom and thirty of their friends.
In the three hours I was asleep, I somehow managed to get up and pee on the rug in the living room, and destroy the remote control for my DVD player in the process.
The boat trip was nice though, sadly I have no pictures of this, I sometimes forget how scenic the region around here really is. I banged one of the bridesmaids in the ships storage area, after a day of idiocy on the beach including being Shanghaid into participating in a beachside drag show dressed in a Marilyn Monroe mask and plastic boobies. Scary.
I bought a T-Shirt today that says on the front "Better to have loved and lost. . ."
and on the back ". . . than to be stuck with a psycho for the rest of your life."