MG? Present!

I'm checking in just to report that I am alive. I'm done moving my stuff from the old place to the new place, which is now a Godforsaken mess. I will eventually do a BlogHer recap and update you on everything else going on (and maybe get back to some old-school type MG blogging).

Also, it's the Modern Dog's adoption day anniversary ... We've been together for three years!

Lucydog always pins her ears back when I photograph her. She's even cuter when her ears are perked up.

That's it. Carry on.

My kind of town

You know how a touristy spot or landmark sometimes gets hyped so much that when you actually get to see it in person it falls so short of your expectations because there was never any chance that it would meet them? That is not the case for the Bean in Chicago.


It’s so shinytastic and we were blessed with seeing it on a gorgeous blue day with just enough white fluffy clouds to make me wonder if the perfect weather came with the Bean as part of its exhibit.

In other Chicago touristy news I ...

saw Navy Pier for the first time. Definitely a tourist trap, but it was such a pretty day that the stroll was perfect.


Saw the Budweiser clydesdales who were in town for a visit.


Sat for a therapy session with Bob Newhart.

Ate at the Billy Goat Tavern. I did not offend the chef because I, in fact, wanted a Cheeseburger and (diet) Coke.


Caught a White Sox game at U.S. Cellular Field (but you knew that already). I skipped Wrigley this go around as I’ve been to a couple games there already.


And left enough of my money on Michigan Avenue to extend the national economy’s lifespan by a whole day. Yeah, that’s a lot of money.

That was enough to fill a trip alone, but oh Modern Friends, there is so much more. Stay tuned for the BlogHer recaps.

Keep the butter away

Oh, Modern Friends. I have so much to share with you about Chicago and BlogHer. It's going to take some time to think it all out though, so stay tuned.

But first, a teaser:

That would be Paula Deen upon meeting Mrs. Potato Head.

That is all for now. Stories later.

Pitcher perfect

The last time I came to Chicago I watched Carlos Zambrano take a no-hitter into the 9th at Wrigley Field against San Diego. He blew it, and the Cubs ended up losing, which of course pleased me despite the fact that I've always wanted to witness a no-hitter. Well, today the Sox made up for what the Cubs couldn't do and then some.

I have a goal of seeing every MLB team play at home (I say it that way because with the way teams change stadiums there's no way I can keep up with every stadium). I'd done two Cubs games, so when I saw that the Sox were at home during my trip to Chicago this week, I knew a trip to the Southside was in order.

I should mention that results aside, I really enjoyed the game. You all know how I feel about the Cubs, and I love how gritty the Sox fans are. The stadium is nice too. I had a great seat -- first row, upper deck in the middle of the first base line.

And oh, by the way, Mark Buehrle pitched a perfect game.


Baseball fans I know get the significance of that. But for those of you who don't, let me explain. Mark Buehrle, a pitcher for the White Sox pitched an entire game in which not only did no one get a hit, no one even successfully reached first base. No walks, no hit batters. Everyone was out on either strikes or a pop out. (Or because of this really, really amazing home run-robbing catch by DeWayne Wise).

No-hitters are a pretty big deal as there are only two or three a year. But in 130 years of Major League Baseball (and counting today's), there has only been 18 perfect games. EIGHTEEN. And I saw one of them.

By the 8th inning, the crowd was on its collective feet and screaming at every single strike. Not every out. Every strike. There was electricity in the air at U.S. Cellular Park, and the El train was abuzz all the way back to the city.

The ridiculous thing about being there to witness it is you feel like you played a role in it. Like, despite the fact that it was pure chance that you selected that day to randomly go see a baseball game, you should still be congratulated for being there. And I was there :)

Trip down Michigan Memory Avenue

I got to Chicago early yesterday morning, with the plan of just spending some time wandering around the city while waiting for friends to get off work. Because it had been soooo long since I'd really gotten down and dirty shopping, I wandered over to the Miraculous Mile on Michigan Ave. and hit up all the cheap affordable stores that I can't find at home in Tennessee.

I don't do a lot of strolling through stores whose merchandise I know I can't afford or stuff I know I really don't need with the notion if I don't actually see the stuff I won't have the temptation to buy, but I did take a side trip through a store which I didn't really need anything ... The American Girl store.

I know, what, am I 8 years old again? Still, American Girl was a big part of my childhood. I began reading the books when I was 4 (I blossomed early as a reader) -- back when the only options were Kirsten, Samantha and Molly. A few years later Santa brought me a Kirsten doll for Christmas. And subsequent Christmases and birthdays resulted in gifts of her clothing and accessories. I used to hide in the bushes in the backyard to pretend I lived on the frontier like Kirsten did.
Being in the store really took me back and blew my mind. They have like a dozen characters and dolls now! And they 'retired' Samantha for some reason. Still, I was drawn to all the little outfits and knickknacks, just as if I were 8 again.

I'm guessing a bunch of you modern gals were American Girl fans too. Which was your favorite character? Did you have a doll?

P.S. I'm having a blast so far in Chicago and BlogHer hasn't even started. I'm sure I'll be doing more updates later. Stay tuned!

The Modern Gal's cast of characters

A cast of recurring characters here at The Modern Gal:

The Modern Gal/The MG: That's me! I'm your hostess and the proprietor of this blog. I've been maintaining a blog in some fashion or another since fall of 2005, but The MG blog has been around since November 2007 as an outlet for me to talk about the many things I love and to converse with other like-minded modern folk. I can be a girly girl when it comes to shopping and gossip, but I'll never be a complete girly girl thanks to my love of sports and power tools and a super-independent streak. I can't tell you what I do for a living because I don't want to be discovered by my bosses, but in a sense I am a professional writer. I grew up in Memphis, Tenn., and have a love for good barbecue and Elvis because of it, but I now reside in Knoxville, Tenn., a quaint mountain city with a split identity between being Southern redneck and granola-y progressive. I am engaged to the Modern Love Machine, and he and I are in the middle of melding our lives and planning a wedding to celebrate the process.

The Modern Fella/The MF;The Modern Love Machine/The MLM: The Modern Love Machine is my sweetie pie and the fella I will be spending the rest of my life with. He was known previously as the Modern Fella until a series of events required him to be known henceforth and forevermore as the MLM. He is smart, funny, good-looking, nerdy and laidback and makes me feel all gooey on the inside. He's a high school math teacher, which I find terribly admirable, and shares my love for books, sports and dancing to '80s music. In other words, all the important things in life.

The Modern Parents: Modern Mom/The MM; Modern Dad/The MD: You know the saying 'The apple doesn't fall far from the tree?' That's especially true in the case of the Modern Gal and her Modern Parents. From one or the other I got my crazy, my practical tendencies, a love of baseball and football, Catholicism, good money sense and a life purpose of doing what makes me happy. I am their one and only child and am very close to both of them as such.

The Modern Dogs/Pooches: Lucydog and Pennypup: Lucydog and I found each other in summer of 2006. She's either a Staffordshire Terrier or Boxer/Pit mix and shows lots of signs of abuse in her previous life, such as the scar on her head that's never gone away. She was rescued off the side of a road with broken back legs. A very wonderful vet repaired her legs, and I helped put some muscle back on them and fat on her belly. In turn, she promises the only time she'll ever bark is when someone's at the door. Pennypup came as a package deal with the Modern Love Machine. She's a super-affectionate furry mutt who loves to spoon and neck and will forever be your friend if you play catch with her.

The Modern Beau/The MB; The Modern Ex/The MEx: This is the same person. He and I began dating my senior year of college and made it five years which carried us through a long-distance spell and ended at the beginning of 2009, about a year and a half after taking the long-distance bit out of the equation. He's a good man, but we were too different from one another for either of us to be completely happy. The break-up was painful, but turned out to be life-changing for me in a good way in that I rediscovered who I was. We're trying our hands at being friends again.

Modern Friends: That's you! All of you! Sometimes I'll reference you collectively, sometimes by your own blog identities and sometimes by your real names. I blog for you and to connect with you. My community with my Modern Friends has gotten me through some tough times: times when I was so busy with work, my computer screen was the only interaction I had with the world; times when my breakup left me so broken I couldn't fathom to see anyone in person, but could talk with you. Blogging has changed my life in many ways, but blogging wouldn't be a part of my life if it wasn't for you!

Live and in the flesh at BlogHer '09

I figured since it's less than a week away, it's about time for me to start actually planning out my BlogHer trip.

First things, first. I'm going to do a little light housekeeping of The MG's sidebars, including a new Cast of Characters post. Back in the early days of The Modern Gal, the characters were pretty simple and self-explanatory. But since I might gain a few new readers, I guess it's best they know who they're dealing with. Look for that post coming soon.

Next. For those of you who've been to BlogHer, please tell me what to pack/bring/wear/etc. I have no clue and I'm not good at packing myself. I tend to pack every possible thing I might need for any given situation. Great in upholding the Girl Scout motto of 'Be Prepared,' not so great in trying to stay under the airlines' baggage weight limit.

Finally. Parties. Which ones should I go to? Since I've heard so much about CheesburgHer, I presume that's not one to be skipped. But I need to know what the hot parties are for the not-mommybloger late 20-something crowd.

Also, leave me a note and let me know if you're going! I'll try to have a nametag on all times that says 'The Modern Gal' since most of you don't know my real name or what I look like. I will do my best to stalk you out, however.

Yikes. So much to do.

Happy, happy, joy, joy

Modern Friends, I am happy today and I want you to be happy too. So here you go ...

Real Simple has a list of 10 ways to make your life happier. I'm not usually a fan of these kind of lists, but this one actually has some decent suggestions to apply to your life that you possibly hadn't thought of. Even if it doesn't make your life happier, persay, it might help lower your stress levels.

For a more short-term approach to happiness, please watch this very short clip:


There you have it.

Showing 27 who's boss

I've always thought celebrating birthdays to be strange. I mean that's the one day in my life that I had absolutely nothing to do with -- I can't even take credit for having the will to be born; my mother had to have a C-section to get my lazy butt out into the world. Really, y'all should be sending her a cake.

I suppose it's a celebration of managing to keep myself alive for another year. But for me today it's not only about keeping myself alive another year but rediscovering my life in the past year.

I distinctly remember being freaked out about my birthday last year. About turning 26 and feeling like I had no better handle on life than I'd had at 16. I was mentioning how different my life is now compared to a year ago to my friend Jigsha yesterday morning. 'You've blossomed since then,' she said to me. I love how she put that because that's exactly how I feel (save the cheesy notion of blossoming from a young girl into a woman or something like that).

I don't know if it was my relationship with the Modern Ex that held me back from living the life I love or my breakup with him forcing me to finally go find and live the life I love, but I've found it. I don't know how to put it into words other than to say I feel like myself in a way that I hadn't in a long, long time. I enjoy the things I do and the company of my friends. I feel healthy. I appreciate my job a little more than I used to (though granted, it still drives me crazy at times). I feel healthy. I'm more resilient to bumps in the road, large and small.

I'm very, very excited about turning 27 ... 26 put up a hell of a fight, taking me down to the bottom before kicking me back into gear. Well played, 26, well played. I'm excited to take this newfound energy in my life and see what I can do with it in the coming year.

So celebrate, I'ma gonna starting with a birthday dinner with the cute boy tonight (yes, I'll get around to talking more about him eventually) and watching what better damn well be a National League victory in the All-Star Game tomorrow night. Saturday I'm spending eating, drinking, dancing and generally being merry with my friends and Modern Roxy who's going to be in town for the weekend. Woo hoo!

I'm ready to show 27 who's boss. Who's joining me?


Regardless of having nothing to do with my actual birth, I have felt like a million bucks today thanks to all the calls, e-mails, Facebook and Twitter messages and these lovely flowers from Officemate and Mrs. Officemate's garden that were sitting on my desk this morning. I'm so humbled by the love from all my friends and family Thanks, everyone.

I'm calling it Refridgerator Falls

Sorry for all the personal posts of late. I haven't had the least bit of time to keep up with all my information sources that provide me topics for the non-personal posts. We'll get back to that soon.

In the mean time, I've been knee-deep in the big move and was without internet all weekend. Gasp! (You will not believe how much actual work I got done on the move without internet access).

How's the move going, you ask? Swell! I say. Well, ummm, except for that one thing ...

By the time the movers arrived at 7:30 Saturday morning, I had quite a bit ready for them to load onto the truck. I packed a load into my car, and by about 8 p.m. I had quite a lot of crap moved and my bedroom and bath unpacked and ready to be lived in. I was beat tired, so I decided I was gonna take a shower and climb into bed with a book so I could get up and do as much work on Sunday.

I took that shower, stepping out feeling so fresh and so clean, clean and super relaxed. That is, until I heard the sound of rushing water. 'Hmm,' I thought. 'I sure hope that sound means the Modern Roomie just got home and decided to take a shower too or else I fear what I'm about to discover downstairs.'

What I discovered: A waterfall pouring from the kitchen ceiling -- through the light fixture, no less. And then another one from a spot near the fridge.

So much for that super-relaxed feeling.

So yes, the move has gone great. Except for the whole bit about the waterfall in the kitchen. The landlord is aware, but he or his handyman are taking their sweet-ass time in coming to inspect the problem. I'm thinking I'm not going to be paying as much for August rent as I paid in July, what do you think?

In which a pulled-pork sandwich reminds us how to live our lives

I devote some of my writing energies to a blog completely dedicated to celebrating the quirkiness of my current hometown of Knoxville, Tennessee, The Sunsphere is Not a Wigshop (A reference to an old Simpsons episode which brought Bart and Milhouse to our humble little city.)

I've been doing a regular BBQ Quest series at the Wigshop in which I, a barbecue snob (born and bred in the hometown of the World Championship Barbecue Cooking Contest) search for the best pulled pork in Knoxville. Once every other week or so, some of my fellow bloggers and I make a pilgrimage to one of our local barbecue joints and then I write about why it does or does not live up to my expectations.

You wouldn't think that would be any reason to piss someone off unless that someone was the proprietor of one of the joints I was panning, but you'd be wrong. Behold a comment posted by a Mr. or Ms. Anonymous today on one of my reviews:

'For otherwise intelligent people, you guys seem to spend an inordinate amount of time eating, or talking about, BBQ (and the sides)--possibly THE most unhealthy food you could possibly consume. Just because it is a tradition in the south doesn't make it right. Of course, what one eats is their business, but you gotta know that there is a big world of food out there that doesn't involve pigs or "gelatinous" cheese (your word). And youth is no excuse for being oblivious; the check eventually arrives.'

I have to give Mr. or Ms. Anonymous props for a well-thought-out comment. Really I'm just sharing his or her comment as a cautionary tale, and no, the caution is not about heart disease from eating too many fatty foods ... I'm going to presume despite your youth you understand that the 'check arrives eventually'.

The caution is this: if you ever feel yourself leaving a comment in this vein on a blog, please, for the love of God, barbecue and all other things holy, take a step back and a deep breath first.

I'm guessing that comment was not about the barbecue.** Perhaps Anonymous' father had a heart attack because of coronary artery disease. Perhaps Anonymous used to run a barbecue establishment and the craptastic economy has shut it down. Perhaps Anonymous' dog got eaten by a pig.

The thing is, an attitude like that -- regardless of the motive -- is going to cause Anonymous a heart attack faster than the barbecue would. In fact, if Anonymous is dealing with a family illness or job loss, the bad attitude will just multiply those stressors. And no matter how important the issue may seem (and it may very well be damned important), it likely ain't worth your health or your sanity.

With my birthday rapidly approaching, I've become tremendously introspective in the last few days about my life and everything I've gone through in the past year with my relationship and job struggles. It sucked so hard many times along the way, and I'm pretty sure no one would have blamed me if I'd gone off the deep end somewhere around mid-January, disappeared for a few weeks and turned up in Fiji, leaving bitchy comments on blog posts about wedding cakes along the way.

But I didn't go off the deep end, and here's the secret why: I stepped back, I took a deep breath and I just let it go. Let. It. Go. Leeeeeet ... it ... goooooooooo. (Takes a deep breath.)

It wasn't the easiest way to handle things by any means. It required tremendous effort, and certainly I stumbled along the way. But it was the most rewarding path to take. I am currently happy, able to enjoy both healthy and unhealthy foods and don't get stressed out about bloggers who write about topics I don't necessarily agree with, be them mundane or not. I'm also able to laugh off commenters who choose to pick me apart.

And yes, I did use the word 'gelatinous' to describe the mac and cheese, and every bite of that gelatinous mac and cheese was worth both the comment and the extra mile I had to run to work it off. Don't forget to run that barbecue off, because the check arrives eventually, you know.

**Modern Max said to me after reading the comment: getting grumpy about BBQ is like getting grumpy about sunshine.

Something in the way she moves

So I am smack in the middle of the Great Move of '09, and all I can say is I cannot wait for it to be over.

This is the first time I've ever tried to do the packing and moving charade on my very own -- you may recall that last year's move was completely orchestrated by the company. All I had to do was unpack, which isn't so bad. Every move before that, my life coach aka mother has been around at some point for a few days to crack the whip over my head to get me to put my things in boxes.

I gave myself over a month to do this move, and while there's still three weeks left, I am moving waaaay too slowly. Packing has been way harder than I ever remember it being. Part of it is I'm trying to actually comb through what I'm putting in boxes and throw/give as much stuff away as I possibly can. Roomie and I are seriously contemplating a yard sale soon because we have so much nice stuff that we don't want anymore. I wish I could have that yard sale tomorrow -- I'd sell most of what I have just to not have to pack it.

One interesting thing about this round of packing is that I am encountering way too many memories of the Modern Ex: photo albums, ticket stubs, stuffed animals he gave me -- basically five years of accumulated stuff. It's not a problem emotionally, I just don't know what to do with it all. Do I throw it away? Do I keep it for posterity's sake? The internal debate is slowing me up quite a bit.

Not to mention I keep getting distracted by cuddly puppy dogs, parties and dinners with friends and a cute boy who for some reason keeps wanting to take me out. And I plan on celebrating my birthday this year, which takes another day or two out of the moving equation. And my cousin is coming to visit. And oh yeah, and I go to BlogHer in two weeks, which eliminates five days. I haven't even thought about what parties I'm going to attend at BlogHer because of the aforementioned move, dog, friends and cute boy.

Saturday is the big day in that I have real, professional movers coming to put all of my furniture and whatever I have boxed up on a truck and unload it in the new house. I wish I could say that would be everything I own, but I have a feeling I'm still going to have to cajole some friends with pizza and beer at some point, which was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Sigh.

And then there's the whole bit about unpacking.

I know it will all get done, even if it kills me. I haven't missed a deadline yet. Still, all I really want to do is spend a whole day on my couch reading a book and sipping lemonade. And maybe getting caught up on my blogreader. Please, please, please don't hate me for being so behind on your blogs.

R.I.P. Air McNair

As a Tennessee Titans fan, I was distraught over the news that Steve McNair had been murdered this weekend. He was the face of the franchise for many, many years, a face that always seemed to be smiling. He spent a lot of time doing charity work. He was a beast of a football player, playing through many, many injuries -- the newspaper in Nashville once ran a photo of McNair with lines pointing to each of his body parts that had been injured or operated upon, and it looked like an Operation game.

As it turns out, his death was likely the result of a murder-suicide in which his 20-year-old girlfriend was the one doing the shooting. That bit was tough for me to swallow. McNair seemed like such the family man with his wife of 12 years and his four kids.

I guess it's a good time to remember that we're all human, and we all make mistakes. But seriously, Universe, I've had enough of both the dudes-cheating-on-their-wives scandals and celebrity deaths lately. How about some puppies and rainbows for a change?

We will not go quietly into the night

I know everyone's seen Independence Day, but I'm betting you haven't seen it in a really, really long time. Here's a refresher ...



Happy Fourth!

In which I let my nerd flag fly

So even though I've been too busy to post here lately, I was not too busy to do a guest post today for one of my favorite blogs, The Park Bench, a gathering place for nerdy women and nerdy men of discerning taste.

Liz, the blogkeep over at the Bench does a great job of keeping track of things that are near and dear to the hearts of nerdy gals everywhere (and a little bit of nerdiness is key to every modern gal's life), so I was thrilled when she asked me to write about a nerdy experience of my own. I shall say two words about the post and you'll have to read the rest: Space Camp.

Also, check out Liz's own post about how to meet and woo a nerdy girl. Her tips are awesome, especially No. 8 which has been used on me countless times and yet never gets old.

Show them how funky

That Modern Gal, does she ever blog anymore? Apparently not, judging by how little the home page has budged in the past week. Alas, it's becoming one of those times in my life where life gets in the way of blogging. Packing for the big move -- or rather thinking about packing -- has consumed much of the free time that I have when I'm not working or hanging out with friends or going out on dates. Going out on dates? Are you a glutton for punishment, MG? Don't you know that keeps ending badly for you? Ah, well.

Anyway, I promised some Michael Jackson tributes, and I suppose the week anniversary of his death is as good of a reason to do one as any. Because my ambition of doing a weeklong tribute has vanished with the winds of early this week, I'm going to try to roll it all into one. Here goes.

First for something serious. Lisa Marie wrote this blog post about about her time with MJ, and I thought it was very insightful. I've dated someone who could almost fit the description she offers of him. They are amazing and difficult people and hard to share a relationship with.

Now for something kind of random. Billie Jean is hands-down my favorite MJ song. As the Modern Ex would say about certain songs/singers: he brings the hurt when he insists the kid is not his son. And the video, like so many of his others, is awesome. Who doesn't want the sidewalk to light up as you step on it?

Anyway, one of my Twitter friends shared this Twitter tribute to Billie Jean with me. Kinda random, but kinda cool too.

Here are two things I posted when MJ turned 50 a few months back, but I'm willing to bet you don't remember so they will still be interesting: The 50 weirdest facts about Michael Jackson and a pictoral HisTory of MJ's face.

Ok, now for my favorite songs/videos. This is so hard because I love so many and for so many different reasons, but I'll try anyway. I've already named and posted a link to Billie Jean, so that's No. 1. (Embedding isn't an option, so you'll have to click through, just COME BACK WHEN YOU'RE DONE!)

No. 2: Beat It, because it's my favorite of all the MJ video dances. I do the dance in my living room when I'm alone and need a short workout.

No. 3: Thriller, because duh, it's Thriller, Thriller night. And it's the greatest video ever made, or something like that.

No. 4: Never Can Say Goodbye, because I loved the Jackson 5 just as much. And Isaac Hayes loved it enough to cover it.
(oh look! an embedded clip!)


No. 5: Man in the Mirror, because, c'mon. You all know you look yourselves in the mirror and rock out when you hear that song. It makes you want to change the world.

No. 6: Dirty Diana, because if that doesn't make you want to be a bad gal, I don't know what will. Speaking of bad ...


No. 7: Bad, because Bad was the album and song I associated with him as a child (I was still pretty young when Thriller came out.)

No. 8: Black or White and Who is It, because I listened to the Dangerous album on repeat with my fellow summer campers circa 1991.


No. 9: P.Y.T., because that's the song that gets played most regularly at two of my favorite drinking establishments.

and lastly

No. 10: Tie between Smooth Criminal and Scream, because I just can't decide. Both are kinda weird but cool songs. And the Scream video was such a big deal.

Ok, since that post took me like two hours to write, I think I'm done for the day. Happy long weekend!