North Dakotans Know How to Party

Dear Colorado friends:

Please don't take offense to this post.  I'm only relaying an opinion based on personal experience.  And if you do take offense to this, you are the one who can change it.

Love,

Raissa

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I've recently been very annoyed by 2 traits that I've found common to people in Colorado.  Maybe my experiences have been uncharacteristic, maybe it's just the people I hang out with, maybe it's socially acceptable in Colorado... I don't know.  In any case, the prevalence of those two traits have caused me to be an angry, crabby person recently.  I'll cover the first briefly, while the second is really just an excuse to tell you about my birthday party.  The traits are:

• Flakiness
• The inability to party

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I am not a flaky person.  If I tell someone I'm going to do something, I do my very best to do it.  If, for some reason, I find out I can't do it, I make a point of telling them right away so that they don't expect me. If I make plans, I follow through.  If I don't know my plans, and there are too many variables to make a decision immediately, I will say, "I don't know what I'm going to do, but when I know, I will tell you."   I feel like it's just common courtesy.

It's apparently not common courtesy in Colorado.  I can't even count the number of times people have told me that they would love to come to an event, or even that they are coming to that event, and then never show up.  It's so unbelievably frustrating.  And hard to plan.  It's to the point that I'm accustomed to certain people saying that they are coming and not showing up that when they say that they're coming, I plan for them not to be there.  I'm getting used to it, but still hate it.

Maybe people in ND aren't flaky because if there's something to do that's even slightly out of the ordinary, we do it.  And there will be nothing else planned opposite of it: there are no other options for things to do.  In CO, there's always stuff to do, so it's possible that other things come up.  However, that's no excuse for not even calling to say you're not coming. 

I refuse to get used to this habit, and I definitely refuse to get into the habit myself.

On to #2: People in CO do not know how to party.  At least not in my experience.  North Dakotans, though... ha!

I spent over eight hours driving on Saturday in order to make it to Bowman, ND to party with my ND peeps for my birthday, which is today.  I was pretty bored along the way, which you can see from this:

Jettie had pink panty droppers waiting for me when I walked in the door.  We had 3 plus a shot before we even left for the bar.  At the rate that I've been drinking lately (read: never), I should have stopped after this:

We didn't.

We walked to the bar and had one shot and one more drink, and from there, the night goes, well, fuzzy.  This photo is from the first bar:

It was a kissy type of night.  A large percentage of the photos I have from last night involve someone kissing someong.  I gave both Jettie and Shauna hickies.  For fun.  As a joke. I'm not a lesbian.

We headed down the street to the other bar, where this happened:

I really, honestly, don't have much recollection of anything that happened in the second bar.  I talked to some guy from FL, Jettie and I danced provocatively, we drank more (I don't know where all the drinks came from), etc.  And we took a lot of pictures, like this one:

From there, we had an after-party at Jettie's house, which I really don't remember. I don't even remember getting birthday kisses from every person at the party, except that there is pictorial evidence (which you won't get to see). 

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Jettie had promised Bowman a shit show, and that's what they got.  All in all, we ended up with 102 pictures and a video (of Jettie in the bathroom... don't ask), along with lots of alcohol and tons of fun.  I've officially determined that I need more lady friends in CO: nothing beats a great girl's night out.

THAT, my friends, is how to party.  Ya'll can take lessons from us!

(Not really a) SURPRISE!!!

I turn 24 on Sunday.  I've not been very excited about the prospect of having lived for 24 years and not really accomplished anything in life. 

I was torn about when to head to ND for Christmas, because I felt like I should celebrate my birthday here before heading back.  But I wasn't sure who would be around, what we would do, etc.  And I most certainly didn't want to plan my own birthday party.

On Monday, I ran into my friend Anna, and she asked me what I was doing.  I'd recently become very noncommittal about a birthday party because of being drained at the idea of being 24.  I was trying to explain it to her, but she didn't get it, and offered to plan a birthday party for me.  I agreed that if she wanted to plan something, I would participate.

Not two hours later, Kenny texted me, asking me what my plans were for Wednesday evening.  I didn't have any, so he suggested I come over to cook hamburger helper for him.  If that seems weird to you, let me explain: Kenny can't cook.  He once failed at cooking frozen pizza by leaving the cardboard under the pizza while it was in the oven.  I've cooked hamburger helper for us before, so it wasn't that strange of a request.  But I knew immediately that there was a party being planned for me. 

I was determined not to tell them that I knew, but I really wanted someone to know that I knew so that when I told them that I knew they would believe me.  I told people at work, along with others about my suspicions.  One co-worker laughed and wondered what would happen if I went there expecting a surprise when really it was just dinner. 

When Dennis dropped me at my apartment on Tuesday night, I wanted to give him an appropriate goodbye.  If there was no surprise party, I should give him a hug and say Merry Christmas.  But if there was a surprise party, then I wouldn't need to do that.  As I got out of the car, I said, "Will I see you tomorrow?"  He said, "I don't know."  I said, "Well, is Kenny having a surprise party for me tomorrow?"  His face told it all.  I said, "Okay, see you tomorrow!  And don't worry, I won't tell that you told me."  He tried to tell me that he didn't tell me, which I guess he technically didn't, but he did.

Wednesday night, I was hanging out at my house, waiting to head over to Kenny's, when he texted me and asked for my roommate's number.  Weird, considering that they don't really talk.  Then, I got a phone call from a friend asking for Kenny's number.  Then, Kenny told me to hurry because he had cooked without me. 

If there had been any doubts about a surprise before, there wasn't anymore.  I drove to Kenny's and could see a number of legs between the windowsill and the bottom of the blinds.  I saw women's shoes in the window by the door.  I opened the door, walked in, and everyone yelled, "Surprise!" 

"Did you know?" they said.  "Of course," was my reply.  They were disappointed that I knew, but it was still very exciting.  It's my very first surprise party!  Of course I was excited!  They all had brought a potluck dish, and some friends got me flowers.  We drank mojitos and chatted until I fell asleep on the couch.

I guess I'm not depressed about a 24th birthday, after all...  Thanks, CO friends! :)

A weekend of suprises...

Should I be blogging now?  No.  But when it gets to the point that my own Mom asks me why I haven't been blogging, I take it as a sign that it's time.  I have SOOO many things to write about that I can't even remember them all when they pop into my head.  Seriously.  I'll do my best to catch you all up now that my week is a little less hectic.  Be warned, this is going to be a looooong blog.

It all starts this summer, in my favorite place in the world, Medora.  (Yes, I like it even more than Boulder.)  One of the kids who I met there is Keith.  Keith is from Pennsylvania, Pittsburgh to be exact, and his role in Medora this summer was not only pizza boy extraordinaire, but also a chaplain with the Christian Ministries in the National Park (CMNP). 

Keith and me in front of the Painted Canyon

At some point during the summer, one of the people in the national office for the CMNP came to Medora and met Keith.  As I understand it (though I could be wrong), he basically offered Keith a job with the national office as a recruiter beginning this fall.  The home office is in Denver, which most of you know, is only about 30 minutes from Boulder.

Keith and I have kept in pretty good touch, mainly via text, since I've been in Boulder, and he has been telling me about his upcoming interview in Denver for weeks. His interview was scheduled for the weekend of the 15th of October, and we planned on hanging out while he was here. (My good friend Katie Ryan is coming that weekend, too!  WOOOT!!!!)

I was planning to attend a conference at my church on Friday evening and Saturday day, and Keith had texted me to tell me that our friend James, who works in Medora in the summertime and in Arizona in the wintertime, was swinging through Boulder to visit his brother who lives here on his trek to his winter home.  I was pretty excited to see James, because he was one of my favorite bartenders this summer.  Later that afternoon, James texted to tell me that he would be arriving at about 9:30pm and mentioned drinks.  I was totally down, and the conference was scheduled to end at the same time, so it was perfect.

I went to the conference, and it started late, so it wouldn't end until about 10:00.  I was a little worried about keeping James waiting, until he texted and asked for my address, saying he wouldn't be arriving until 10:00.  Again, perfect.  I replied, telling him that I don't really have an address because I live in a dorm and heard nothing back from him.  So at 10:00, when the conference ended I called James, but he didn't answer.  I left a message with a description of where I lived along with the best way to get to my apartment, and asked him to call me.

I got home at about 10:15 and still hadn't heard anything.  I was just hanging out, waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  And waiting.  I even considered putting on my PJs.  Then, at about 10:45, he texted, asking me for my address. 

I thought to myself, "Seriously?  I've told you twice now that I don't have one, and have given you directions.  What more could you want?"  I replied, saying that I don't have an address, but gave him the street name that my apartment is on and asked how long it would be.  He said he was just going to plug my address into the GPS and would arrive momentarily.

So I waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  Finally, I got a text saying, "Meet me outside."  I thought that James was here here, so I quickly gathered my stuff and went outside to find James.  I didn't see his car anywhere, on any side of my building.  So I texted back, "Are you here?"  He said, "No, I'm still in the taxi."

Wait.  What?  Taxi?  Why?  James drives.  He has a car.  Confused, I asked, "Why are you in a taxi?"  I also texted Keith saying, "James is picking me up to go out in a taxi?"  Nothing was making sense at this point.  Keith must have agreed, because he called me and said, "What?  Why is James in a taxi?"  I suggested many potential reasons: he was drunk, high, tired, dead.  I don't know.  Keith was also a little confused by the situation and he asked if I was outside.  "Well, yes, I'm outside.  He told me to wait outside.  I've checked out every side of my building and can't find him." 

Keith said, "Well, maybe you should turn around."  I did.

And who was standing there, but Keith himself.  I shouted some expletives that won't be repeated here, because it was such a surprise to see him.  And because I was expecting James.

Keith explained that there wasn't anything going on in Medora, and James was migrating, so he called CMNP and asked if they could move up the interview.  They agreed, so he hatched this plan to surprise me.

He succeeded. 

So we went out on the town, to my favorite place (so far) in Boulder: The Dark Horse.  We had a few too many teas, called a taxi, and made plans to have breakfast or lunch the next day.  Unfortunately, Keith left earlier than planned, and we didn't get to dine on Saturday.  But he may be coming back if he gets the job, so we can do it then.

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Yet another surprise:
In the past few weeks, Christina has been planning Jedd's 30th birthday party.  It was actually Tuesday, but they planned on celebrating the Saturday before.  Then, Christina's aunt died, and she headed home for a week, sincerely apologizing and telling Jedd that she wouldn't be able to be back for his birthday party on Saturday. 

She lied.

Her plan the whole time was to come back Saturday and surprise him.  So when she got back on Saturday, five of us headed down to Jedd's town to surprise him. 

And boy did she ever.  It was cute.  The night culminated in one too many long island teas (again) and dancing with one of Jedd's drunk friends.

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That, kids, along with the two tests and papers I had due this week, is why I haven't blogged in a while.  More blogs to come.  Soon, I hope.