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

 
Monday, November 17, 2003  
And So Begins the Slide Into Oblivion
It's possible I'm losing my mind. Or that I am in the throws of a nervous breakdown. Not that I'm terribly concerned about either of these possibilities. There are worse things than losing one's mind and being blissfully unaware. But consider this fair warning: this blog may turn into the diary and documentation of a woman losing her mind. Many will argue it already is...

But the possibility of losing one's brain function is cause for pause for thought. (that is while I can still give pause for thought...)

My ever on, never resting, multi-tasking, speeding like a bullet mind has been noticeably, well, less so lately. Ditto my usually super heightened and attuned bionic senses.

To wit: This morning's little "situation."

Co-worker with really obnoxious smelling coffee popped into my office. She does this a few times a week, and always on Monday morning. Her job is not exactly demanding. Apart from working for the She Devil of the office. (no, surprisingly, that's not me) But She Devil rarely shows her face in the office before 1:00 PM, so co-worker has a pretty easy time of it. Never arrives in the office before 9:30, even though her stated hours of operation are 8:30 - 4:30, spends her mornings on the phone with friends and family, procuring bagels, donuts and other food items, shopping the net...I'm not jealous, I wouldn't want her job or her life for any amount of money. However, from time to time she loses site of the fact that some of us, in fact most of us, come in early, stay late, work through lunch...because we're on deadlines or just have a lot of work to do. She is apparently oblivious to the fact that even though she's just arriving in the office and is "settling" in and "catching up" some of us have been here for hours and are smack in the middle of work - actually concentrating on projects and might not want to be interrupted.

She has developed a habit of coming into my office with an enormous mug of her smelly coffee (at least my sense of smell is still bionic) plopping herself in a chair apparently expecting me to drop everything and have a conversation. And yes sometimes, this is a nice break, and even though we have absolutely nothing in common except we both live with a cat, I do like her. And I know it's important to do a bit of socializing with colleagues...But, 10:00 on a Monday morning, when I've come in early especially to work on a project on a tight deadline during a very busy week of meetings is not the time I want to have a discussion about the squirrels knocking off the bricks on her rose bush cones.

I've tried diversionary tactics - to little avail. When she bursts in with: "Hiya! How was your weekend?" I've taken to offering an offhand, sarcastic and seemingly implausible response while not looking up from my work. "Oh you know, saving the Galaxy from Vogons" or "Nothing much, just a little work on my cold fusion project" or "The 187th Fleet was in for the weekend, you know how demanding those boys can be..." She rarely gets it. She has actually taken me seriously a few times. (The 187th Fleet was of particular interest to her...Cold Fusion and Vogons soared over her head.) But for some reason (perhaps further proof I'm losing my mind?) I continue this routine, holding out hope one day she'll "get it" and quietly leave when I don't encourage further conversation. I've been trying to dumb down the remarks lately, hoping against hope one of these times she'll actually realize I'm being sarcastic, that I am busy and am not in the mood or frame of mind to discuss her roses, new cookie recipe, church choir practice or the sale at Talbots.com. Talbots? .com?

I digress. I'm trying to vent this out of my system rather than at her or someone else in the office. She set off a domino effect of events that completely broke my chain of concentration and led me to the discovery that I may in fact be losing my mind.

Smelly Coffee Co-worker: Hey! How was your weekend?

Trillian: Jell-O shots, gettin' freaky in the hot tub, whips, chains, waking up with several men the names of whom I do not know...you know, the usual..

Smelly Coffee Co-worker: (ignoring or not understanding the remark) Oooooh, I LOVE those earrings! (Co-worker says this about three times a week. And yes, the compliments are nice, but because they are so frequent and over things like a basic pearl earrings they come across as lame attempts at conversation. Or co-worker doesn't get out much. Both are probably true.)

Trillian: Thanks! (pulling her tresses back to show off this time admittedly really great earrings)

Smelly Coffee Co-worker: Is there something wrong with your ear?

Trillian: Ever since that allergy problem my sinuses have been funny and my ears are popping.

Smelly Coffee Co-worker: So, is that thing in your ear supposed to help?

Trillian: Huh? (Reaching for both ears) What the....? (Discovers a small, clear, flexible plastic "muffler" in her left ear and pulls it out. Yes, pulls it out of her ear.)

Smelly Coffee Co-worker: (Stares aghast and concerned.)

Trillian: (Pondering the item) Oh. I know. This is from my earphones. Instead of those spongy cover things, the Virgin Pulse buds have this little flexible perforated condom glovey covering. (proffers earphone condom to co-worker) See?

Co-worker: Oh. I see. You know, I've got a lot to do today, have a good one! (beats a hasty retreat. Smelly Coffee Co-worker never has a lot to do.)

I suppose first and foremost I should be concerned the plastic condomy thing came off my earphone and lodged itself in my ear. Mere millimeters away from being stuck in my ear canal, potentially endangering my ear health or, minimally, my auditory response time. (Might there be a tidy sum of class action money in this for me? Mr. Branson? Yoooo hooo, paging Richard Branson...I need a job...your earphone left its condom in my ear...perhaps we can come to an "arrangement?")

But instead I am more concerned that hours passed since I removed the ear phones. Hours. And I didn't notice a piece of plastic lodged in my ear.

Scarier still is that I had been in the bathroom twice, brushed my hair, had several phone conversations (mobile and land) and DIDN'T NOTICE A PIECE OF PLASTIC LODGED IN MY EAR. Hours passed. HOURS. We're not talking small fragment of parsley on a tooth here, were talking plastic earphone condom lodged in my ear. I'm not surprised or angry that no one before Smelly Coffee Co-worker said anything, I mean, it's not a topic that's easy to bring up. "Pardon me, none of my business, but if it were me I'd want to know...you've got, well, there's, an, um, well, earphone condom in your ear." Yes, I can see it's not as easy as "tooth - parsley" or "Slip!" No, I can understand it's not the easiest thing to tell someone.

What's bothering me, and why I think I might be in the early stages of sensory dimming or dementia is the fact that I was completely oblivious to the earphone condom lodged in my ear for several hours. It's thrown me off what I thought was a fairly sharp game this morning. I'm trying to console myself with "better that Smelly Coffee Co-worker noticed than a client over lunch." But I know the best and most appropriate scenario would have been that I noticed it as soon as I removed my earphone. Or maybe, maybe, failing that, when I brushed my hair in the bathroom mirror. Seems like if I hadn't felt it by then I would have seen it.

Is this how it begins? Are nylon knee-highs fallen down around one ankle and a wig on backwards soon to appear on me without me realizing?

10:12 AM

 
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