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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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

 
Thursday, December 09, 2004  
I haven’t been drinking much lately. Too busy/tired/apathetic/medicated to go out, much less go out drinking.

We had our company holiday party last night.

It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

When your prescribed medication states on the label: Use caution when using alcohol while taking this medication. Alcohol may increase side effects. They mean it. There isn't enough room on the bottle to clearly spell it all out for you. So let me translate that medical jargon for you: You’re taking this medication because you’re a sick, messed up individual. Do you honestly think you should be drinking in your condition? Look deep into your soul before you answer that. We’ve put this label on the bottle so that you will give pause to think about why you are taking this medication in the first place. If you’re feeling so bad that you need to take prescribed medication perhaps now is not the time to explore some of the new vodkas on the market. But since no one takes these labels seriously we know you won’t think about why you’re taking this medication. We know you’ll just pop your pill and run along to your party without a second thought. We’ll be right here waiting when you get home. If you get home, that is. THEN you’ll care about this label. THEN you’ll think about why you’re taking this medication in the first place. THEN you’ll be worrying about the side effects. THEN you’ll wonder if you should be operating heavy machinery. But THEN will be too late. You didn’t heed the warning clearly spelling out the cautions of mixing this medication with alcohol and now you will pay the price for your indolence. Increased intolerance to alcohol. Drowsiness. Nausea. Impaired vision. Impaired judgment. Impaired ability to use sane, safe logic. The makers of this drug will not be responsible for any job loss, death or pregnancy that results from mixing alcohol and this drug.

No, I didn’t get drunk and have unprotected sex with the guy in the mailroom. (or any sex, for that matter)

Nor did I make a copy of my bum (or any other body part). (My company smartly holds the party at a hotel where there are no copiers, faxes or email stations present.)

Nor did I participate in the karaoke korner.

No. All I did was have a few sips of wine which went straight to my chest and stomach, so I switched to a martini, a martini. One. Which I sipped for over an hour. And got really, really, really, really, really, really drunk.

Bad idea, that. Mixing alcohol and prescribed medications.

Because I left the party (early) thinking it would be the perfect time to head over United Center and drive the Zamboni. “Heavy equipment?! Bah! I’m going to drive the swutting Zamboni!”

In strappy 4” heels, swingy velvet dress, sparkly jewelry and a up-do.

What concerns me about this is, looking back on it through a hazy dream like cloud, no one at the party stopped me. No one thought it might not be a great idea. No one said, “Uh, Trill, I think maybe you’ve had a bit too much to drink. Why don’t I just get you in a cab so you can go home and have a nice rest.” No one even mentioned that the Blackhawks and the entire NHL are not playing and there would be no ice to Zamboni. No one asked if I knew how to drive a Zamboni.

Nothing except lots of laughs and encouragement, “Yeah, Trill, you should, that would be a riot.”

This is why I state: I have no friends at work. There are people I know. But not people I can trust. Not people who will prevent me from attempting something really stupid when I’ve clearly had too much to drink. Well. I mean. I hadn’t had too much to drink under normal circumstances. They couldn’t know that I’m heavily medicated and apparently shouldn’t even be in the same room with alcohol. Still. It must have been obvious I was not functioning normally. The sight of normally in control of herself Trillian in a less than in control of herself manner at the company party must have been such a novelty everyone was uncertain of how to handle the situation.

Still.

Clearly there was something not right, someone, someone in that crowd must have felt sorry for me or thought, “Trillian’s not acting normal. She hasn’t had that much to drink. This is more than just letting her hair down. Maybe this a sad cry for help.”

But no. No one did for me what I have done to countless numbers of people at this company and others. No one took on the role of caring sister looking out for the health, safety and employment of a colleague who has clearly had too much to drink or is having a personal situation in front of everyone.

No one. Not one person.

The few friends I have here were much more drunk than I was. (one sloppy tongued snog from a friend who is normally the most polite gentleman I have ever worked with and my friend’s demonstration of proper shirt lifting technique for a Motley Crüe concert confirmed that) So I’ll excuse them. They count on me to look after them and I was right down there with them. They were counting on me to stop them from saying or doing something unadvisable at the company party.

Because I am: Responsible and a good friend and a nice person who looks out for people and doesn’t judge or gossip about it. Protecting and defending reputations is apparently my thing at these functions. Valor Girl!

But Valor Girl left her cape and tights at home last night, along with her common sense and gray matter.

Instead, sloppy tongued snogs went unrebuffed. Pointers and critiques were given for optimal boob exposure while concert shirt lifting.

And then there was Valor Girl herself.

Who will save Valor Girl when she needs a Valor Girl herself?

Apparently no one.

Apparently Valor Girl is the only one who can save herself.

Fortunately it was windy and chilly last night. I sobered up enough to get a cab instead of walking to United Center. Fortunately there was a cab handy. Fortunately the cab driver didn’t understand “United Center” (he was going to take me to O’Hare thinking I was saying United Airlines. My speech was not slurred that badly, by the way.) Fortunately I live on the way to O’Hare and I said, just drop me here and he did. Fortunately I was only a few blocks from home.
Fortunately I had two lipsticks, a comb and my new tear gas canister in my little evening bag.

Fortunately there were no more dead things in my apartment.

Unfortunately I went online. The night was young (it seemed so late at the party...) I was semi-sober, or so I thought, I didn’t get to drive the Zamboni, so I trolled online. Chatrooms. IMs. Emails.

Okay, here we go,
Trillian’s Public Apology to Anyone She May Have Offended or Confused Last Night, December 8.
To my friends old and new, I apologize. I did something really stupid, a momentary lapse of reason, if you will. I had a drink while taking medication which increases the effects of alcohol. By a lot. Intoxication is never an acceptable reason to offend or hurt anyone. I am not attempting to excuse my behavior or words. I am only apologizing. I truly did not mean anything I said, you are all really swell people and never in a million years would I want to offend or hurt any of you. I am so very sorry that a few of you got your first taste of IM Trillian last night and were probably perplexed and more than a little angry at what you read. I am evil, but not that kind of evil. If you were hurt, upset or otherwise offended by words I wrote to you last night, please email me and I will personally apologize to you.

If we engaged in any sort of cyber, well, anything, it was just a bit of fun, it was not intended as an open invitation to get into my actual pants and there will be no more Belle du Jouring around on my IMs.

If you saved the IMs or emails and are thinking they might be useful blackmail, shame on you. Know this: I don’t care. Blackmail me all you want. I’ve got nothing to hide, particularly not a girlfriend or wife or mother who would not be pleased to know you spent time online salaciously IMing with me.

I am sorry for this uncharacteristic behavior. It is not how I normally “let my hair down” and it was not “the real me” showing herself. I am not crazy, stupid or sleazy. I’m just really sorry that I might have hurt some of you. I apologize sincerely and from the bottom of my heart.





10:06 AM

 
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