(Apologies if you're now humming that Queen song.)
As I mentioned earlier this week, last weekend was the finale to my Summer '09 Wedding Season Extravaganza.
As with every wedding I attended this summer, the bride looked gorge (which was especially exciting for me, considering I had never even seen her in a dress).
She even remarked that she thought of me and how proud I'd be of her while she was getting her make-up done, since she typically wears chapstick and a light coat of mascara... and I typically wear half of the MAC counter.
(Translation: there are probably fewer than 10 people who have ever seen me without make-up on. EVER. I am always jeals of girls like my friend, who are naturally beautiful. But that's why lipstick was invented, right?)
Anyhooo... the bride was beaming, the couple was too cute for words, the setting (a picturesque farm) was amazing, blah, blah, blah.
Now on to the really good part: the Amish boys.
I'm not going to lie and say that these kids looked like Amish versions of the JoBros. In fact, they were sort of like Monet paintings (good from far, but a little dicey up close). But, hey. They were Amish. They'd probably never seen a girl who was wearing heels that could rototille a field either. (That would be me, in case you were wondering.)
Now, I'm always up for a challenge. But my friends daring me to attempt to pick up (and subsequently make out with) one of the young Amish boys? C'mon. Even I couldn't go there. (Especially because they were not even guests; they were working as caterers.)
I mean, there are things that make for good blog stories. And then there are things that send you straight to hell. And I don't like to be hot.
Anyhow, after I refused to tickle the young Amish boy's undercarriage, our conversation quickly devolved into a discussion about Rumspringa (though none of us knew the name at the time), which is apparently the time during adolescence that a young Amish kid gets to break loose and do things like date, drink and (gasp!) wear jeans.
So then I got to thinking... had I accepted the challenge to corrupt the young Amish lad, what would I have done? (I mean, besides making him wear a t-shirt that said, "I put the RUM in Rumspringa.") And if you had the chance, what would you do?
P.S. I also got to meet one of my blog readers at the wedding. Hi, Casey! Hope you weren't too disappointed when you met me IRL! :)
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