I never knew I needed this until now. My life is complete.
I’ve forgotten all the words to the original version but I just confirmed that I do indeed remember all the words to “Amish Paradise.”
When I was a wee girl growing up in Lancaster County, PA “Amish Paradise” came out and was a monster hit locally, as you would expect. The song was so popular that the local radio station would play it every half an hour. Once the backlash started, the local “wacky” evening dj went legitimately crazy and locked himself in the booth and played “Amish Paradise” on air for at least 6 hours. Even the local cop who would do the traffic updates on the morning show called in and tried to talk him down. I went to bed and the song was on repeat, and when I woke up the next morning the dj was in jail. That’s my Amish Paradise story, enjoy.
But that bird’s hair
that Amish Paradise story is my favorite story ever probably
So, I paint my nails pretty regularly these days. I also work as a barista/cashier pretty regularly these days. A few weeks back, I had a customer come in, a fairly typical, sheltered, suburban soccer mom, and she ordered a latte from me. She saw my brightly colored nails and said, “Wow, you’re so brave! My son asked me about painting his nails, and if it’s okay for boys to do that. Now I’ll tell him there’s a cool guy who does it too!” It was a nice moment, very cute.
Then, last week, she came in again, and said, “Hey, I’m so glad you’re here! I want you to meet someone!” She then brings her son forward, and says, “Okay sweetie, show him what you did!” And he throws his hands up, showing off his bright, sparkling blue nails. He shows them off, and I show mine off to him. He smiles. We fist bump.
Guys, I’ve only wanted to cry once at work before, and that was when someone ordered a large dry soy cappuccino on ice.