While generally well-educated and cute, few of Boston's women posses the rugged, adventurous spirit you'd want in a life partner. Also, like half of them have frenched mad dudes in Clery's basement, so, kind of damaged goods there. Cast a wider net and travel to the South Shore to find your future wife, at the Miss Rodeo Mass Pageant.
The feather in the laughably oversized cap of the fourth-annual Wild West Fest, this woefully out-of-place, first-evah pageant pits Bay State cowgirls against one another in the competitive search for beauty, poise, and the "ability to project personality from the back of a moving horse". Four events separate these hard-nosed belles from going to nationals:
Horsemanship: The talented equestrians must walk, trot, and "lope" through two routines before addressing impromptu questions about "Western horsemanship" and "horse science", a secondary topic only taught at schools for continuing (Mr.) Ed.
Speeches: Two-minute speeches (from memory!) are to pontificate on any aspect of the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts and be delivered "without the use of props", all of which will be saved for afterwards, when they're congratulated for remembering their whole speeches.
Fashion Show!: The ladies'll use horse whips as accessories while strutting the latest in fashion-forward Western chic. Lavishly adorned cowboy hats must, thankfully, be worn with every outfit (like, even gowns), and casual wear will include ornate belt buckles, skin-tight Wranglers, and heavily embroidered jackets.
Current Events: In the one you really can't miss, contestants will demonstrate their knowledge of current affairs by answering questions that, in past contests, have included, "Was the Cash for Clunkers program successful?", and "What are the dangers or concerns with using Facebook or MySpace?", the answer of course now being: "that my friends will see my Miss Rodeo pics, and not appreciate my ornate belt buckle".
As it is also a festival of the West, you can take a break from the pageant to gorge on BBQ & chili, listen to live country tunes, cringe at bull-riding, and watch team cattle-penning, or what Friday night wingmen call "going to Clery's basement".