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
Thursday, August 21, 2003 Unbelievable But True!
Every now and then a project at work sidetracks me to something very interesting. In my search to procure an appropriate domain name for a new site my department is going to launch, I found that contrary to popular belief (mine), not all the good domain names have been taken. So in the spirit of public service, my need to give back to the Universe, I present a list of really good website names currently available.
lawyersarepeopletoo.com and .org are both available
judgesrule.com
bushpart2armageddon.com
fillingthevoid.com
whatcanyoudoforme.com
excusemeisthissitetaken.com (the availability of which utterly shocked me. I really want to buy that one...)
itsmyparentsfault.com
imnotfatimbigboned.com and imretainingwater.com
blinkandyoullmissit.com (the future internet home of my hometown...)
...and you thought all the good porn site names were taken ...think again! jell-oshots.com (jelloshots.net, however is taken)
hotbabesinhottubs.com
warmtinglysensation.com
wanttoseemysketches.com
imaprofessionalphotographer.com
ohyesthatsthespot.com
employment sites: hiremeimgood.com (which could double as an escort/porn site)
iwenttocollegeandalligotwasthisstupidtshirt.com
lifeinacubefarm
allineedisonebreak.com
ideservearaise.com
signheretosellyoursoul.com (which could also be used for other purposes, see below)
richardbransonpleasehireme.com
The one I cannot believe wasn't snatched up in all the American Idol frenzy and may have to purchase myself:
saywhatyouwantsimoncowellhasreallysexyhands.com I know. I couldn't believe it's still available, either.
whosworsesimoncowellorjohnnywright.com (Sexyhands notwithstanding, someone must be held accountable for boy bands and pre-fab grrrlz, and this site could be the battle ground. The winner gets his own website called:
signheretosellyoursoul.com)
nsyncchangedmylife.com (seriously, no one's grabbed this! I know, another shocker!)
livewithtommyandpamelalee.com (okay, so it would be a small site with just a few downloads, but still...someone should use it)
Surprisingly, there are a number of 4ever sites still up for grabs:
baycityrollers4ever.com
blueswede4ever.com
kennyg4ever.com
kiss4ever.com leifgarrett4ever.com 5:15 PM
Wednesday, August 20, 2003 Midol Cures Bone Fractures!
Okay, so I'm not cured. BUT, I do feel pretty darned good, at least as good at with my prescribed ankle fracture medication.
I left my prescription at home today. Forgot it.
And of course didn't realize this until a few hours ago when I reached into my bag for the drugs of life to soothe the throbbing in my ankle. And found nothing even remotely resembling a pain reliever. Of course it was at that precise moment I got a visual of my prescription sitting on the shelf in the bathroom, right where I am sure I left it this morning.
The commercial will go something like this:
So I asked a colleague if she had anything for pain - Tylenol, Alleve, morphine...the best she could come up with was, you guessed it, Midol.
Desperation leads us to many ill suited fates. But necessity is the mother of invention.
So I tried it.
And an hour later, I am happy to report, it's helping!
So if you are ever stuck without your pain medication for a fracture, you can improvise with Midol.
As a follow-up to yesterday's question to the Universe: (the alleged) Secret Agent Man doll was approximately 12 inches tall, about the size of a Barbie, came with loads of undercover operative gear and allegedly bore a strong resemblance to Patrick Magoohan (aka Secret Agent Man, Danger Man, The Prisoner, among others). It would have been available in the mid to late '60's. It may or may not have been an officially licensed product. I must find that doll. Please help. Even if you have only a faint recollection of a similar doll, please let me know. Any shred of information may help piece together the (man of) mystery toy.
1:21 PM
Tuesday, August 19, 2003 Desperately seeking a toy from long ago.
My brother had a "doll" in the early 60's that was a spy. My brother insists this "doll" was an action figure of Secret Agent Man. As in Patrick Magoohan.
I question the actual identity of the "doll" because I find it difficult to believe back then there were many licensed action figures of television characters. And Patrick Magoohan hardly seems a likely suspect for early licensed merchandise. I am younger than my brother and therefore cannot confirm or deny his claim. Which is what I am seeking to find here. Anyone with any information on a spy or secret agent action figure produced somewhere between 1960 - 1970 please email Trillian. This "doll" came with loads of accessories, the coolest of which was a gun that actually shot plastic bullets. Hey, these were the days before choking hazard guidelines, political correctness and rampant litigation.
My purpose is two-fold. 1) I want prove once and for all there never was a replica of Patrick Magoohan available for purchase, and 2) I need to procure one of these dolls, whatever its roots, a gift for my brother. An offering of either proof that the doll he had was in fact not Patrick Magoohan or that it was. In either case it will be a much appreciated gift and will silence a running argument once and for all and give my brother the closure he needs.
"Secret Agent Man" met an untimely demise in our house. My father, being of the old school that does not condone boys playing with anything remotely resembling a doll, seized his golden opportunity to take down Secret Agent Man one fateful evening.
That night has come to be known as:
The Night Secret Agent Man Shot My Dad
My brother was enamored with this doll. My father was not. Seemed a little too much like a Barbie in his eyes. And boys do not play with dolls, particularly Barbies. Johnny West and the rest of the West clan were permitted in the house, but not with my father's full respect or blessing. Must have been their rugged cowboyness that kept them in the house. Once (the alleged) Secret Agent Man came to live with us the Wests were relegated to toy box status a la Woody in Toy Story. Hey, he's a cowboy, too. Hmmm. Interesting. I wonder if there's some psychology to this. Cowboy toys are the first to be cast aside...better look into this. Could be valuable information.
I digress.
The weekday rule of order in our house was that all toys were to be put away, hands and faces washed and all children sitting at the dinner table poised for my father's arrival from work and the onset of dinner by 5:15 PM. But on this evening, my brother had been engaged in a particularly involved secret mission and somehow escaped my mother's strict clean-up policy. It was a secret mission, after all, apparently even my mother didn't know about it.
What happened next is still a matter of dispute and family lore. There are, however, a few basic facts.
A stakeout was taking place in the hall. My brother, special op, and Secret Agent Man. In walked my father, home from a long day at the office. Unfortunately, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time. At the precise moment of (the alleged) Secret Agent Man's ill fated ambush, my father walked in the front door, and Bang! He was caught in the crossfire. A miniature plastic bullet to the shin.
There sat my brother. Too numb to speak or move. Holding (the alleged) Secret Agent Man. Nowhere to run and no one to blame.
My father now became a counter agent. "That's it, no son of mine plays with (explative of some sort) dolls!" (this quote, apart from the actual explative, has been verified by all present at the time.)
According to my brother's account, my father then swooped down, grabbed (the alleged) Secret Agent Man from my brother's trembling hand, walked to the garage, and returned empty handed. My brother's late night reconaissance seek and recover mission to the garage revealed nothing. (the alleged) Secret Agent Man was never seen again.
And now, 30 years later, my brother is still seeking closure.
And proof that it was indeed Patrick Magoohan. The real Secret Agent/Danger Man. In a small, plastic replication. With gun that shot plastic bullets.
Anyone with any information regarding a doll/action figure of this nature please contact Trillian.
2:22 PM
Spare Me the Email
I know, I know, self pity is a trap and useless waste of emotion. I understand that. I was merely venting frustration.
I know there are people in much worse circumstances than mine.
I know there are people for whom my temporary situation is a permanent way of life.
I know how lucky I am to enjoy good health. I know I am lucky to have a world class medical facility at my disposal. I know I am lucky that my recovery and future health is bright.
And I am, as ever, thankful and humbled with this knowledge.
I know all of this so please, save your time, no need to send me email pointing out these facts.
10:51 AM
Monday, August 18, 2003 I'm Starting to Think Maybe I Don't Like Mondays
Pardon my moan. Trillian is not having a good day. And has to vent her self pity.
I saw the orthopedic surgeon first thing this morning.
Really looking forward to getting out of The Immobilizer and into the sport model.
But, I came away disappointed and discouraged.
No sport model.
Slow, less than normal recovery.
Though there is some progress.
The outer fracture is healing nicely, no problem there. The interior fracture is behind normal process. Though there is enough improvement that he doesn't feel I'll need surgery. It's just taking its own sweet time to heal, and I have to face the possibility that this is going to be an even longer process than anticipated.
However, there are new concerns. The most immediate is tissue damage.
I was half way joking about not moving my toes again.
Now it seems that is, in actuality, the main concern.
And later this week, another consultation after those reports are in, and, if suspicions are correct, I will be under the knife on the bottom of my foot.
If the MRI shows no major tissue damage, it's carry on as I have been.
If there is no tissue damage, once the swelling decreases I can get the sport model.
If there is tissue damage the sport model is not an option, and with or without surgery I will be stuck in The Immobilizer indefinitely.
Guess it's good Furry Creature has made peace with it.
