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/.
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.
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.)
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, May 07, 2003 Calling all Muppetologists!
Are there any of you out there? This is an interesting day for Muppets. They've been sold back to the Henson family. Seems weird and not quite right that Jim Henson's family had to buy (for a lot of money) the Muppets. Still, at least they didn't land in the hands of the evil Disney empire, and that's good for Muppets. And what's good for Muppets is good for all of us.
Which made me wonder: Are there Muppetologists out there? Muppet historians? Muppet experts (that they would drag onto CNN if there were a Muppet disaster) Muppet fanciers? (and no, I'm not talking about Furries, so please, don't bother sending me that sort of email. (you know who you are and you know what I mean)
Kermit is still probably my favorite, though Stadtler and Waldorf are close seconds. Simon Cowell could learn a thing or two from those guys. Though Simon's hands are far, far sexier. Okay, not a stretch, Simon has hands. And very nice ones, at that.
Anyone see that show last night? Clay, well, it was just plain horrendous and a little scary. Of all the Bee Gee's songs in all the world, he chose that one? What messed up logic was that? I have to assume this is another A.I. setup, that Clay is rigged to be booted off so he can pursue a future outside the realm of that Are You Kidding? contract. But come on, the irony was just a bit forced. All season he's been fighting the Broadway comments, and what does he do? Sing a Bee Gee's song from Grease, a Broadway adaptation. I mean please, do you really think we're all that stupid? Do you expect us to believe Clay is that stupid? And why, why, why didn't Simon make this connection and jump all over it? Oh. Yeah. I forgot for a minute.
I mean, he finally came out and made the drag accusation public, after nearly an entire season of not noticing or keeping quiet about it. I thought maybe during sweeps he'd say what some of us really are thinking. Guess the irony of Clay=Broadway=Grease was a bit out of Simon's realm. Or too obvious. Too bad, that. Could have been a good moment for the DVD. He even missed the obvious, "Haven't the Gibbs suffered enough?" Bit off his mark this week. Still, he has really sexy hands which is really all I want from the guy. Nice bit of weekly eye candy for us gals in the Universe. We get so little of that these days.
Congratulations to whichever wickedly genius producer set up Clay to sing Grease, though. Nice work. Sarcastic, ironic, evil and very funny. Good bit of redemption after last week's Ruben as Tamyra redux. Thought you might be getting lazy. And still worried you'll try a hat trick. Don't.
If he gets to stay another week, please make him sing Memory. Please? Pretty please? I so want to see Clay in a cat costume. So does Furry Creature. Furry Creature thinks it's not much of a stretch, Clay already kind of looks like a cat.
Kimberly totally ruined one of my all time guiltiest pleasures. Okay, technically the canned backing vocals ruined it for Kimberly, but ugh. Emotion is such a great song and it will take me days to expunge Kimberly's off-key, off-tempo screaming from my aural memory.
Ruben, well, Ruben, last week I said happier place, not crappier place. You took me right back to that dingy bar stool crying in my drink alone at last call. Enough already, Ruben! The emoting is fantastic, you take me right to that place. But that place is a crappy place. Make me feel good about myself. Or at least don't make me feel bad about myself. Please? I told you last week that's why people didn't call in for you - they were on a major buzz kill from Breaking up is Hard to Do. Geesh. I don't even remember what songs you sang last night, I just remember being teleported to that very unhappy place.
Josh. Please. Go get a country deal. You know that's what you want. It's what they want. It's what your fans want. It's what America wants. You're a great Clint Black or whoever it is you're styling yourself after, so go, do it! You're good, you've got what it takes, and I know you already have all the attire.
Tuesday, May 06, 2003 In What Belgium-ed Up Part of the Universe is This Okay?
Horrendous Project on Tight Deadline is all consuming. Mainly for me because I am the project lead. But it's a huge deal for every person in my department because it brings in a lot revenue which pays the salaries for everyone on staff. In short, it's our biggest money-maker of the year.
So when aspects of the Horrendous Project are suffering (through no fault of mine, I might add) it stands to reason everyone, or least some, in my department should be concerned. If nothing else at least those in my immediate unit should be concerned. In the spirit of our team initiative (what an oxymoron) they should offer support. Or show up to the meeting they were asked to attend.
But no. Not only did my teammates not show up for the meeting, they didn't show up for work. Well. Not on time. I know it was planned, the two in question are very close personal friends and don't breathe without asking the other. Yes, these are grown women, allegedly professional women. Self proclaimed "independent women." They claimed they didn't know the meeting had been changed to 9AM. Okay, fine. Maybe. Maybe that's true. I don't think so, but I have no way to confirm or deny that. Our collective boss set up the meeting and subsequent changed times. I mean, I knew, my boss knew, everyone else knew. Seems unlikely and more than a bit far fetched to think they didn't know. But nonetheless, their start time is 8 AM, and had they been here as they were supposed to be, they would have had to join the meeting when summed by our boss at 9:05. But today, neither one showed up until 9:45. And when they saw our meeting was under way, did not bother to make polite late excuses and join the meeting. No. Of course not. They knew it was a potentially ugly meeting with higher-ups and let me hang out there to dry on my own. Walked right by open conference room, heard the discussions about the Horrendous Project, and didn't offer to join the meeting they were expected to attend.
But wait, there's more.
The meeting wrapped up, and our boss plops herself down into the office of delinquent A and summoned by shout delinquent B. They had a rip roarin' time loudly yucking up the meeting and hair styles and how funny it was that they both were running late today and that they both didn't know about the meeting time change. How funny!! What a hoot! (My boss' exact words, followed by Betty Rubble laughs).
So, let's re-cap. You show up an hour and 45 minutes late for work. You had a very important meeting at 9. You don't call in to let anyone know you're running late. You don't join said meeting when you do show up. Then you and your boss have a good laugh over the whole thing.
Meanwhile, your teammate (yes, that's been drilled into all of us, we're a Belgiuming team here ladies!) has been working her behind off for over a month, nights, weekends, early mornings...took care of the entire presentation, data, charts, sample product, you name it. And got told off, trounced over and given MORE work.
I know, I know, this is the nature of the workplace. Particularly the workplace that is comprised of many women.
But man it makes me mad. How can that possibly be okay? Or right? Or tolerated?
I want to quit so badly I'm ready to scream in frustration. Money! Stupid, stupid money.
Got to find another job. Now.
Okay Universe. Thanks for the Bryan Ferry moment the other night. But here's what I'd really like: HWNMNBS I to appear, heck, even a phone call, and a new job. A new better paying job. And I would like both of these things in the next two weeks. Thank you.
Monday, May 05, 2003 I've Got This Horrible Pain in My Left Diodes
Really. I do. It's incredibly humid in my coordinates of the galaxy this morning. Perhaps that has something to do with it. But that makes me sound and feel really old. Summon a granny voice and say, "These old bones ache when the weather comes on..."
I think it may be more that I have been neglecting exercise for the past few weeks due to the long hours in the office. And now I'm paying the price. Tonight, no matter when I leave the office I will go to the gym and give 110%, then I will go home and do that evil Callanetics tape.
I'm also up a pound this week, which really upsets me. Who's idea were these Monday morning weigh-in's anyway? Oh yeah. Mine. If I'd had a rip-roarin' weekend I wouldn't feel so down about it, but I worked and didn't indulge in food or beverage too heavily.
Perhaps the heavy humidity is affecting the scale. Yeah. That's it.
The Universe gave me one gift last night, I can't expect another this morning.
And I'll take Bryan Ferry over a pound on the scale any day.
Sunday, May 04, 2003 Just When you Least Expect it
A day off! Well, almost a whole day off. A whole day minus three hours off! 21 glorious hours to myself not working!
The plan was to spend the entire day home with Furry Creature. Doing some laundry, reading, lounging...
But at 10 AM, yes, 10 AM on a Sunday morning, workers descended upon my building to work on a vacant apartment. The smells! The noise! Wonderful. I knew they were here yesterday by the vapor trail they left in the entire building. Which was the cause of the stomach ache, sneezing, coughing, watering eyes and, yes, here it comes, asthma. Pass the inhaler. And now on Sunday morning they're back to inflict more upon us. Windows are open, of course, but please, it's not helping.
Arthur called to check on me, and the end result was that he rescued me from the blight of my home for a few hours.
But I felt sorry and guilty leaving Furry Creature there, in that noise and smell, when I had promised to spend the day with him. So I cut the afternoon of hijynx short. Arthur was hungover anyway, and not really in the mood for hijynx.
So I settled in with Kavalier and Clay and Furry Creature, then The Simpsons and Malcolm in the Middle.
But what ho! A gift from the universe! Right there, in the middle of Malcolm in the Middle...is it really? Could it be? Yes! Yes! It's Bryan!!! My Bryan. Crooning Just the Way You Look Tonight! Inspired! Wonderful! Strange, very strange juxtaposition, I'll admit, which is why I think it was a message, a gift from the Universe. I'll translate: "Trillian," the Universe said, "You've been working really hard and long hours on that Horrendous Project on a Tight Deadline. You have no social life. Furry Creature is showing signs of neglect. Your weekends have been nonexistent. The end is on the horizon, and normally that would be reward enough for you. But we took a vote and decided you deserve a bit more this time. Here, here's Bryan to surprise, titillate and otherwise prove there are bigger powers at play in this world. Mystro! Just the Way You Look Tonight, please, for the pretty lady sitting on her couch feeling sorry for herself."
Now it's thundering and lightening, Furry Creature is in Crouch Position and ready to retreat to the closet. I love thunderstorms, he does not.
Bed soon, secure in the knowledge that the Universe hasn't turned a blind eye to me after all, that it at least gave me a wink. Thanks Universe. I guess I can tough out a few more days or weeks, if necessary, on the Horrendous Project on Tight Deadline. Maybe next time you'll see your way clear to bring HWNMNBS I back to me professing undying love and begging for another chance at a lifetime spent with me. Or at least a new and better paying job.
