Total Perspective Vortex
What really happened to Trillian? Theories abound, but you can see what she's really been up to on this blog. If you're looking for white mice, depressed robots, or the occasional Pan Galactic Gargleblaster you might be better served here:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/cult/hitchhikers/guide/.

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<





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Women, The Internet and You: Tips for Men Who Use Online Dating Sites
Part I, Your Profile and Email

Part II, Selecting a Potential Date

Part III, Your First Date!

Part IV, After the First Date. Now What?


"50 First Dates"






Don't just sit there angry and ranting, do something constructive.
In the words of Patti Smith (all hail Sister Patti): People have the power.
Contact your elected officials.

Don't be passive = get involved = make a difference.
Find Federal Officials
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or Search by State

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Contact The Media
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Words are cool.
The English language is complex, stupid, illogical, confounding, brilliant, beautiful, and fascinating.
Every now and then a word presents itself that typifies all the maddeningly gorgeousness of language. They're the words that give you pause for thought. "Who came up with that word? That's an interesting string of letters." Their beauty doesn't lie in their definition (although that can play a role). It's also not in their onomatopoeia, though that, too, can play a role. Their beauty is in the way their letters combine - the visual poetry of words - and/or the way they sound when spoken. We talk a lot about music we like to hear and art we like to see, so let's all hail the unsung heroes of communication, poetry and life: Words.
Here are some I like. (Not because of their definition.)

Quasar
Hyperbole
Amenable
Taciturn
Ennui
Prophetic
Tawdry
Hubris
Ethereal
Syzygy
Umbrageous
Twerp
Sluice
Omnipotent
Sanctuary
Malevolent
Maelstrom
Luddite
Subterfuge
Akimbo
Hoosegow
Dodecahedron
Visceral
Soupçon
Truculent
Vitriol
Mercurial
Kerfuffle
Sangfroid




























 







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Highlights from the Archives. Some favorite Trillian moments.

Void, Of Course: Eliminating Expectations and Emotions for a Better Way of Life

200i: iPodyssey

Macs Are from Venus, Windows is from Mars Can a relationship survive across platform barriers?
Jerking Off

Get A Job

Office Church Ladies: A Fieldguide

'Cause I'm a Blonde

True? Honestly? I think not.

A Good Day AND Funyuns?

The Easter Boy

Relationship in the Dumpster

Wedding Dress 4 Sale, Never Worn

Got Friends? Are You Sure? Take This Test

What About Class? Take This Test

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far Far Away, There Was a Really Bad Movie

May Your Alchemical Process be Complete. Rob Roy Recipe

Good Thing She's Not in a Good Mood Very Often (We Knew it Wouldn't Last)

What Do I Have to Do to Put You in this Car Today?

Of Mice and Me (Killer Cat Strikes in Local Woman's Apartment)

Trillian: The Musical (The Holiday Special)

LA Woman (I Love (Hate) LA)

It is my Cultureth
...and it would suit-eth me kindly to speak-eth in such mannered tongue

Slanglish

It's a Little Bit Me, It's a Little Bit You
Blogging a Legacy for Future Generations


Parents Visiting? Use Trillian's Mantra!

Ghosts of Christmas Past: Mod Hair Ken

Caught Blogging by Mom, Boss or Other

2003 Holiday Sho-Lo/Mullet Awards

Crullers, The Beer Store and Other Saintly Places

Come on Out of that Doghouse! It's a Sunshine Day!

"...I had no idea our CEO is actually Paula Abdul in disguise."

Lap Dance of the Cripple

Of Muppets and American Idols
"I said happier place, not crappier place!"

Finally Off Crutches, Trillian is Emancipated

Payless? Trillian? Shoe Confessions

Reality Wednesday: Extremely Local Pub

Reality Wednesday: Backstage Staging Zone (The Sweater Blog)

The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad

To Dream the Impossible Dream: The Office Karaoke Party

Trillian Flies Economy Class (Prisoner, Cell Block H)

Trillian Visits the Village of the Damned, Takes Drugs, Becomes Delusional and Blogs Her Brains Out

Trillian's Parents are Powerless

Striptease for Spiders: A PETA Charity Event (People for the Ethical Treatment of Arachnids)

What's Up with Trillian and the Richard Branson Worship?

"Screw the French and their politics, give me their cheese!"


















 
Mail Trillian here





Trillian's Guide to the Galaxy gives 5 stars to these places in the Universe:
So much more than fun with fonts, this is a daily dose of visual poetry set against a backdrop of historical trivia. (C'mon, how can you not love a site that notes Wolfman Jack's birthday?!)

CellStories

Alliance for the Great Lakes


Hot, so cool, so cool we're hot.

Ig Nobel Awards

And you think YOU have the worst bridesmaid dress?

Coolest Jewelry in the Universe here (trust Trillian, she knows)

Red Tango

If your boss is an idiot, click here.

Evil Cat Full of Loathing.

Wildlife Works

Detroit Cobras


The Beachwood Reporter is better than not all, but most sex.



Hey! Why not check out some great art and illustration while you're here? Please? It won't hurt and it's free.

Shag

Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto

Jotto




Get Fuzzy Now!
If you're not getting fuzzy, you should be. All hail Darby Conley. Yes, he's part of the Syndicate. But he's cool.





Who or what is HWNMNBS: (He Whose Name Must Not Be Spoken) Trillian's ex-fiancé. "Issues? What issues?"







Creative Commons License
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License.


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Reading blogs at work? Click to escape to a suitable site!

Mamas, Don’t Let Your Babies Grow Up to be Smart Girls
(A Trillian de-composition, to the tune of Mamas, Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys)

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

Smart girls ain’t easy to love and they’re above playing games
And they’d rather read a book than subvert themselves
Kafka, Beethoven and foreign movies
And each night alone with her cat
And they won’t understand her and she won’t die young
She’ll probably just wither away

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains

A smart girl loves creaky old libraries and lively debates
Exploring the world and art and witty reparteé
Men who don’t know her won’t like her and those who do
Sometimes won’t know how to take her
She’s rarely wrong but in desperation will play dumb
Because men hate that she’s always right

Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
Don’t let them do puzzles and read lots of books
Make ‘em be strippers and dancers and such
Mamas, don’t let your babies grow up to be smart girls
They’ll never find men and they’re always alone
Even though men claim they want brains





























Life(?) of Trillian
Single/Zero

 
Wednesday, August 27, 2003  
If Your Boss is and Idiot, Read This

Just one more public service we here at Life(?) of Trillian are happy to provide.

For the record, in case you hadn't figured it out yet, Trillian's boss is an idiot. Nincompoop, actually.

Which is why Trillian so desperately wants to work for Richard Branson. Sure, he's off ballooning around the world a lot of the time. Sure, he's got obvious male compensation issues. But given the people I've worked for, and stories I've heard from friends and relations over the years, I've narrowed down the pool of people I could honestly work for and be, well, happy. Or at least satisfied. Or at least not wanting to kill myself rather than go into the office and deal with my boss for 8+ hours a day. And Dick is the guy who comes out on the top of my list.

There are factors beyond The Man himself. But I figure if I'm going to be part of the Virgin team, I may as well spend my days with The Man himself. We have a lot to offer each other. And what with the whole train, um, challenge, he's probably looking for some fresh faces and blood, creative new ideas. And that's where I step in.

So much for my little vacation to Fantasy Island.

There is an enormous spider in our office this morning. We're talking Queen of the Arachnids. Nuclear experiment gone very wrong. Straight out of a Godzilla movie. And she's chosen a rather unfortunate resting spot right over the door of the ladies restroom. So none of the women on my floor will go within 20 feet of the restroom and are traipsing off to the inferior restroom on our floor, or to other floors to spider-free bathrooms.

I myself have stood up for spider rights. The woman who first spotted the spider shrieked out in horror, and since I was closest to the scene I hobbled over (on crutches) to come to her rescue. Had I known it was just a spider causing the alarm I wouldn't have bothered. I have to admit, at first view, Queen of the Arachnids is a bit daunting. But, you know, she can't help it. Maybe she's just big boned. Or retaining water or flies or whatever it is girl spiders retain. I'm not saying I am prospider (or any other bug) in the office, but, I don't believe in killing them. They'd prefer to be outdoors but their life circumstances bring them indoors. I'm of the school that removes the creatures, alive, to a more suitable habitat. This is what I do at home. Not always the most pleasant task, I openly admit, and frequently quite comically carried out, but, as creatures sharing this planet, it's the least I can do. But on crutches and 18 floors up, it's impossible for me to be the one to give her an elevator ride to freedom. It would only end in disaster. I'd have to trap her in something, something that wouldn't asphyxiate her and that I can carry on crutches without squishing.

For the moment she's safe, no one will go near her (except the few bravest among us) to gawk. The manliest man on our floor (not saying much, there are eight men on my floor, four are gay, three are utter wusses and the other is hardly stud material) has surveyed the situation and, like me, feels it's wrong to kill another living being. Particularly this creature who, once you get past her spideryness, is really very amazing and pretty darned cool. I'm sitting here hoping she makes her own great escape, goes back to wherever she came from and keeps herself hidden away safe from any would be bug killers.

The good thing about this is that the morning makeup-hair-perfume-clothing rituals in our ladies restroom have been cancelled this morning. Honestly, from 8 AM - 10:30 AM that place is like the model prep area of a Versace fashion show. I understand once in a while circumstances beyond control dictate that you assemble yourself at work. Or re-assemble yourself as is typically my case. But the notion that hair drying, curling and styling, complete, and I mean COMPLETE makeup application and perfume spritzing and clothing application, can and should be carried out daily after arriving at work is a concept I cannot condone. Frankly, I really do not want to go into the restroom to use it for it's conceived function, only to run smack into a row of colleagues standing in front of the mirrors, in various states of dress (or undress), the air thick with powders and perfumes and hairsprays, hair dryers further blasting the stuff around.

I know some of this is to be expected on a floor of 45 women and eight men. I realize on any given day one of us is going to have a bad hair day or cosmetic issues or a dry cleaning crisis. But there are a cast of regulars in there every morning and I just have to wonder: Do their jobs allow them this kind of free time every morning? And if so, is it because I'm the chump actually working during this time and thus providing them with free time to primp to their heart's content?

But today, Queen of the Arachnids has spared me this. I can pee in peace, no risk of sighting a colleague in her underwear, stockings draped over the stalls, and air that doesn't actually bring on an asthma attack. And for that I am indebted to the spider.

Long live the Queen.

11:31 AM

 
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