Category Archives: 100 ways to make myself look like an idiot on the internet

Watch out for those bird nests…


One of the things that I spend most of my time with celebrated a big event in her life this week:

Freda Fusion hit 100,000 miles.

It seems like only yesterday when we first braved the MN winters together.

Never mind that when we first met she had a mere 52 miles on her transmission and seemed so young and innocent. Freda and I have been through a lot together — 40-mile-one-way commutes, trips to MI, hairy dogs, camping trips.

In honor of Freda’s big day, I decided that it’s about time that I share my most memorable car story:

The day I learned how quick the fire department can respond to a call.

The year was 2002. I was a junior in high school, looking forward to summer vacation and sleeping until noon.

I hate to admit this most of the time, but I was a cheerleader back then. Okay, I know what you’re thinking, but I wasn’t the ditzy, giggly cheerleader-type. I joined because my friend wanted me to. And to get into all the football and basketball games for free. And to ride on the bus with my uber-crush. And to maybe get run over by him and then he would finally notice me and confess his undying love for me and then we would live happily ever after the end.

**Sidenote: I was never run over by said uber-crush. He never confessed his undying love for me. But I must say that I am definitely living happily ever after.

Awww…gross, I know.

Anyway, back to the car story.

My parents let me drive their Ford Taurus around and I loved having that freedom. Aside from the fact that I had to share it with my younger brother, I could pretty much go where I wanted when I wanted.

A car in high school = instant awesomeness.

On that fateful night back in 2002, I had cheerleading meeting at school and as luck would have it, my uber-crush was tutoring some kid in the commons area. I decided to stick around a bit longer to gaze longingly at the genius that  was my uber-crush hang around with my friends.

It was getting late and I decided I should probably head home after a less than successful attempt at the love confession. I walked to where my car was parked outside and I was passed by a senior boy carrying a camcorder and running toward the door.

Rae: “What’s going on out there?”

Senior guy: “Dude! Somebody’s car is on fire!!!”

Rae: “Sweet!”

I took off behind the guy, only to come around the corner and see the Taurus in flames.

One thing that is important to know about me in high school is that I wasn’t really a bad kid. I was sometimes painfully shy, didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t get knocked up, and didn’t really swear all that often.

But when you see your parents’ car burning in front of your high school, there is only one thing to say:


I threw my keys to the ground, ran up to the car, shook my hands in dismay and screamed. I was screwed. The dean of students flew past me with a fire extinguisher and a dormitory tutor was trying to beat out the flames with a pizza box.

I ran up four flights of stairs to borrow a friend’s cell phone to call my parents. I was so winded that it took a while for my friends to understand what the heck was going on. When I called home, my mom answered:

Rae: “Um, hi. Can I talk to Dad?”

Mom: “What’s going on?”

Rae: “Oh nothing. Can I talk to Dad?”

Mom: “No seriously, what’s going on?”

Rae:   sigh   “Okay, fine. Um, I’m at school and the car’s on fire.”

Mom: “We’ll be right there. Dad, get in the car!”

I was done for. No more car privileges for me. I might as well cut up my license.

By this point, I was sitting on the curb next to the smoldering car, trying to figure out if I should run away or rub soot on my face to look like I had been through hell trying to save the car. Not screaming and running away like my initial reaction had been.

The fire department showed up and all of the neighbors were out on their porches since it was almost 10:00 PM. The firefighters walked up slowly to survey the scene, looking around to determine why the roof of the car caught on fire and nothing else.

Then they started laughing. That’s when I noticed what I was parked under.

And that’s also when I noticed the twigs on the top of my car.

My parents came tearing around the corner and raced up to the firefighters. They were still laughing when they started to explain what happened to my frantic mom and dad.

It seems that there was some sort of kindling in the streetlight.

The culprit.

And shortly after the light switched on, it looked like this:

I like to think that it was empty before it burst into a giant inferno.

Which then fell directly into the center of the Taurus, causing the plastic from the light, nest, and paint of the car to catch fire. The car, after a run through the car wash to remove fire extinguisher dust, looked a little something like this:

Also known as The Flaming Chariot of Death.

And so began the short life of The Cow Car, before it was promptly totaled a few months later by my brother.

Here’s hoping that Freda Fusion doesn’t have quite that eventful of  a life. But if she does, I’m praying that she doesn’t go out in flames trying to top the Taurus.


Moon over Minnesota


For some odd reason, growing this human has been the best diet I have ever been on. After 15 weeks, I’m still down 4 pounds from my starting weight, even though I’m quite positive that the jiggle is simply redistributing itself to my front, top and bottom.

Well, I was under that impression until a few days ago at work, when I was reminded that my massive assive still follows behind me no matter where I go.

The weather was warm, so being in a summery mood, I decided to put out more effort than I normally do and shave my legs—for the first time in so long that I am definitely not putting it out into the universe for everyone to see. I’m married. Who am I impressing anymore? Plus, it insulates in the cold winter months.

Anyway, the entire reason for de-hairing was so that I could wear one of my all-time favorite dresses:

Circa June 2011, with a smaller behind (apparently) and my short friend

It has pockets.

So, no explanation needed on why I love it.

I weighed myself at work and shockingly I discovered I was still down those few pounds. I instantly decided that I would celebrate by having pizza for lunch. Obviously.

As I went to sit down, I felt a slow tear move its way up in the rump-region.

My eyes widened.

My mind raced.

What underwear am I wearing?

Oh crap.

I slowly stand and turn so that no one would notice the blinding sight of my pasty patooty, but as I felt around, I was relieved to find that it was only the lining of the dress that had torn.

I still ate an entire pizza for lunch.

Like a slightly torn dress is going to stop me.

The Talent I Never Knew I Possessed.


(Yes, I am aware that it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything. I fell into the ever-growing Holiday Black Hole. Sunday is thankfully our last holiday celebration, at least for a few months, so I’m hoping to recover to my former state soon.)

It’s taken me a week to come up with the best way to describe my latest discovery of how truly awesome I am. Not only am I supremely fantastic* and incredibly humble**, but I continue to amaze myself with my variety of talents.

Dancing while driving.

Making a frozen pizza on the Pizzazz.

Watching 12 hours of TV straight.

But last Friday I even managed to shocked myself.

It was the Christmas celebration with my in-laws last Friday night. All of the brothers were there, along with the parentals and even the grandparents. To try something new, my IL’s decided on some festive fare for the occasion.


I love fondue. Cheese. Chocolate. It doesn’t matter. As long I can cover vegetables and/or cookies in it, I love it. And it loves me.

Well, at least I thought it did.

Having 9 people using one pot of oil to cook meat caused quite the issue when it came to space, so I decided to sneak in first and get my bitty piece of pork sizzling first. The rest of the family joined the feast and soon my dinner was ready!

Being logical, I let the metal skewer cool on my plate.

Apparently I’m not logical and/or did not let it cool long enough.

That’s right:

I burned myself while eating fondue.

Another embarrassing talent.

Not only did I burn myself, I burnt my lip. The metal skewer barely came close to my lip, yet somehow I quickly blistered and found myself in pain. But there was no way that I could make a peep…my BILs would never let me live this down. I just stuck to veggies and lukewarm cheese for the rest of the evening.

And while I am fond of weird and sometimes grotesque medical issues, I did not take a picture of my ailment. I did not to subject you to such horror, so I will demonstrate the results in my most favored medium:

Painted pictures.

Now here’s what I look like normally:

Well, at least that’s what I looked like a few years ago. And yes, I cropped Steve out of this picture. I didn’t want you distracted by his stunning good looks.***

And pay no attention to the teeth.

Now here’s what I imagine the injury looked like:

Not too bad, you say?

Oh, you are sadly mistaken.

This is what it felt like it looked like.

So, see, it was horrific. And mortifying.

Why, fondue?

Why do you hate me? How could you hate this face?

*I’m not really that vain.

**Seriously, I’m not.

***This statement is 100% true. Just don’t tell Steve that. It’ll go straight to his head.

The Ghosts of Halloween Past


Halloween has never been my favorite holiday.

Don’t get me wrong: I love candy. Like, a lot.

I’ve just never been too excited when it comes to dressing up. Maybe it’s because I appreciate a well-thought-out costume, not one that consists of very little fabric and/or has some dirty connotation. I’m all about things that make you go, “Huh. Nice costume,” with just a hint of jealousy behind it.

Not that my personally-homemade costumes have ever been something to be jealous of.


Hey, there's not much I won't do for free food.

Rae as a burrito from Chipotle.

This was from my good-ole’ college days (like they were so long ago). My roommate and I heard that if you dressed up as a burrito that you’d get a free one for lunch.

$$$ of roll of aluminum foil <  $$$ of 2 Chipotle burritos

We were sold.

Turns out, you really only needed to have some sort of tinfoil on your body. Creativity was not appreciated.

But we ate well that day regardless.


We're off to see the wizard. And by wizard, I mean cafeteria lady.

Here we are, freshman year, newly off to college and excited about the Halloween party hosted by the school. I was Dorothy, of course, because of my hair mostly resembling the character’s locks. Luckily, my roommate’s aunt happened to have these costumes just laying around the house.

Except for Jenni‘s:

I will never live this down. Ever.

Hers was a simple blend of aluminum foil and duct tape, which apparently can get pretty warm when you’re covered in it.

Weird. I would have never guessed.

This was also one of the last times she came to visit me at school. (Not really, but maybe it should have been, for her own safety’s sake.)

But we won first place in the costume contest, which is really all that matters.



I wish my mom still made my costumes. It would make live so much easier.

Now, this picture isn’t to show you an embarrassing costume. It is to show you the cool costumes that my mom made for us as kids. This is me and the older-younger brother I have on my grandma’s porch.

We’re pretty darn cute.

And my costumes that I come up with just can’t live up to these.

Although I was  Detroit Lion one year, complete with jersey, cleats, ears, and tail. Still pretty proud of that one…and I probably wouldn’t get laughed at so hard these days for wearing it around.

That’s right, Vikings fans. The Lions finally don’t completely suck. Ha!


Some of the Wizard crew all grown up. Sort of.

Here is a roommate picture, circa the age where we can enjoy in a few adult beverages in public. Themed again: good angel (not pictured), bad angel, the devil, and a pirate. Not sure how the pirate fit into the theme, but it didn’t require buying a whole new costume, so she was clearly the smartest one of the evening.

Can I just comment on my waist in this picture? It looks so small.

Oh, to be like that again. Now I just use a huge cube to hide that area…(see below)


I hope none of the neighbor dogs see this...

That’s right.

I dressed up my dog.


For about 3 minutes before I realized she was frozen solid in shear fear. And it was a mailman costume, so I simply could not resist.

Poor Feta.

Okay, one more, for good measure.

This is getting really old really fast, human.



The ultimate nerdy couple costume that we could come up with on short notice: the nerd and a Rubik’s cube. The craftsmanship that went into that cube is unprecedented, which should be a dead give away that I had nothing to do with its construction. But I did cut out the squares and glue them on, so that should count for something.

What have I gotten myself into?

There was also talk of making the top of the cube move, which made me quite nervous. The last thing I need is to go to the ER because some body part getting stuck in a giant Rubik’s cube. That would be quite the story to add to my medical record, right next to the time when I accidentally hit The Beast with my hand while playing Wii and was positive that I had broken a small bone when the swelling didn’t go down for 4 days (even though it wasn’t really broken).

True story.

Bonus: when I got sick of wearing a giant cube and not being able to enjoy snacks at the party we went to this weekend, I was able to slip off the cube and instantly become a ninja. So, watch what you say about my costume…you never know where I’ll be hiding.

(And I realize now that my cropping makes me look much larger than Steve, which is not accurate. How unfortunate.)

All in all, as long as I get some candy and don’t have to watch any scary movies, I consider Halloween a positive holiday in my book.