Okay, here's a white trash wedding.

I went to a wedding on a Florida beach behind a hooters.

This is not for me, by the way.

I say it's ground.

And it just goes further down from that.

The officiant stood next to a trash bin.

As if it was planned, the trash collector pulled up during the vows.

Did he wait to change the bag?

Absolutely not.

Did it while the wedding was going on.

Children at the wedding swarmed the couple like flies around the trash can just after the kiss and stepped all over her dress.

She bent over to adjust her sandal and a pack of marble reds fell out of her dress, along with her right boob.

Nice. That was the wedding.

Pretty good. That's a good one there. Yeah. Any wedding where a boob pops out, it's a good wedding.

Yeah. Or one that's near a grease trap. I'm telling you, you don't want to be near that thing on a hot day.

I mean, I'm guessing in Florida, it was a hot day.

Oftentimes when Tyler and I did events at Hooters, we would park in the back,

so people could park up front, and we were right by the grease trap,

and on a hot summer day, oh my God.

Yeah, like I say, more than once when that was my job at the grocery store, I went out there to dump the old grease and there was a dead critter of some sort rat, raccoon, squirrel

in there.

The wedding was in the suburban driveway.

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