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

 
Friday, November 21, 2003  
Tomb of the Unknown Stuff
When you live alone, no matter how fastidious a person you are, you have a tendency to slack now and then. And when you live alone, break your ankle, spend four months on crutches and most of your home time in bed or on the couch, well, that tendency is amplified.

You let the laundry go a few heaps more than usual. You let the spent newspapers and magazines stack up. You keep the things you want or need on a regular basis out all the time rather than put them away every time you use them. You leave CDs, well, everywhere but in their usual alpha/chrono rack. You let that annoying soap scum film grow into something...well, something more than annoying soap scum film. You dust the places that show enough to bother you, but let the rest collect. Snow isn't the only thing stirred up when you shake your snow globes. You still use the Hawaiian print table cloth even though it's November and you've got a very lovely fall table cloth. Somewhere. You leave the suitcase from your weekend trip weeks ago still packed and parked in the living room. Sweep, Swifter and vacuum? Are you kidding? Broken ankle here! Besides, you're not walking all over the place, so how dirty can it be?

You know that place where you drop your stuff when you come in the door? You let the stuff sort of stay there. So that it's not so much stuff dropped when you came in the door as a monument to stuff. A Tomb of the Unknown Stuff. Weeks, perhaps months in the making.

You leave the travel brochures you ordered online to console yourself when you had to cancel your vacation scattered throughout your place because you are considering what fabulous place you'll go once you are up to a real vacation. You simply cannot put them away (because they don't have a place) or throw them away. So you don't actually remember requesting tourist information from the Malaysian Tourism Council. So you know you will not be going to Malaysia, at least in the next year. So what? (Sew buttons, I hear my grandmother chastising me. Sorry Grandmother. I know it's bad, but I'm a bad girl these days.)

You let the dry cleaning go a LOT longer than the usual weekly corner of the hall closet. You let it go so long it is now actually several of the laundry heaps, but it's merged with the other heaps, so much sorting is required. No, you don't usually allow your dry cleaning clothes mingle with your laundrette clothes. But you live alone, you've had a broken ankle, these things happen. The problem is with all that mingling going on, relationships have developed, socks doing blouses, skirts doing jeans...it's a veritable orgy in there. And by the looks of some of the heaps, they're starting to reproduce. The offspring? Bi-cleaning method clothes children. Blouses, socks and undergarments of fabrics you've never heard. Things you know you don't own and would never buy, much less know how to launder. Yet there they are.

So the cat makes wide berth around his usual favorite nap place under the bed. You know how cats are. It's got absolutely nothing to do with what might be living under there behind the stacks of books piling up for "easy reach." (This also speaks to another, more serious problem...buying books. Like an alcoholic hiding bottles around the house, I'm now hiding books. My enabler? barnesandnoble.com, the invalid's best friend - two items or more, free shipping!)

You know you should tidy up. You want to tidy up. You're a tidy person. Have been accused of being a bit of a neat freak in the past. (once or twice, really, it's happened) You occasionally make feeble attempts to put a few things away. You do a heap of laundry. You clean the bathroom sink. These are major accomplishments and you feel quite proud of yourself for doing them, telling yourself that you're on a roll, just a slow roll. What with your condition and all. And you live alone. Who sees it, and who cares? If friends drop in they know you, they know you're slightly incapacitated. They're your friends, they don't care. Sometimes their places look just as bad if not worse.

Then your parents decide to visit.

Panic. Pandemonium. Chaos.

Where can I find a smart clean bomb?

My parents won't care, really, but if I leave things as is, they'll immediately set to cleaning themselves. They'll call it "helping me out."

I'll call it systematically driving me insane.

So I have to do all this in four days. Before I leave town for the holiday. There go any weekend plans I had.

Quarters! I need quarters for laundry! Lots of quarters!

Anyone have any suggestions on how to unclog an apparently permanently clogged (or for some other reason very slow) sink drain?

Swut.

Swut. Swut. Swut.

8:15 AM

 
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