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
Monday, November 01, 2004
Paranoia.
I've never considered myself paranoid. I take reasonable precaution and proceed. I don't worry about things over which I have no control. I don't get hung up on what other people are doing, what other people have, or what their actions may do to me. Take action for myself and try to be ready to react to whatever gets thrown at me in a calm, rational, deal with and devise and action plan sort of way.
True, I do not trust any government, politician, religion or religious leader. Not because they're out to get us, but because I know that sort of power does not exist without corruption on some level. They're out to use us, for sure, but get us? Come on, they've got bigger personal agendas needing their attention. I accept that. It's part of the power package. It bothers me, in certain cases (John Ashcroft)it scares me but it doesn't make me paranoid. Because in the end, I know I can only be responsible for myself and my actions. I do my homework before I cast my votes or go to a church. I make the best choices for the greater good given the information available. And yes, sometimes, that means voting for someone who does not have my personal best interests on their agenda. But being part of a society isn't all about me (or you). There's no I in the greater good. I obey the rules of the place I live, try to get along, fit in, not bother anyone and maintain a balanced perspective to observe and report fairly. No room for paranoia in any of that ethos.
Conspiracy theories? Sure, I watched the X-Files. Loved it. Different from other crap on television. Generally decent writing and generally good stories. Twilight Zone? Rod Serling was one of the best writers on or off television. Always makes you think, yes sometimes scares you into thinking, but sometimes we need that jolt to our synapses. But as for living la vida suspicious, I laugh at conspiracy theories. I understand some of them have uncomfortable truths at their core. (Area 51? Atomic and nuclear testing is much scarier and a much bigger threat than anything visiting from another planet. Tom Petty? Dead or alive, the bigger issue is that record companies are big evil industries who will stop at nothing to make money.) Remember, I do not trust the government or organized religion to make the best decisions for me. But they've got a job to, a business to run. They've got to pander to the lowest common denominator. I'm usually in a numerator in another story problem. I accept that, too. My issues are not the issues of most people in my demograph. The issues I struggle with may be the end result of a long chain of events stemming from bad economic or societal times and policies, but I, with my free will and informed consent, made my own choices, cast my own votes and succeeded or failed for the most part because of my choices.
Wait a minute, Trill. What about HWNMNBS? INS had a huge part in all of that, you couldn't control that, the government was bad and wrong and really screwed things up for you. Yes, but, I fell in love with and chose to marry someone from a country other than my chosen country of residence. In doing so I surrendered my right to marry at will to the US Government. I knew that then, I know it now. It's just another reality to cope with, learn about and accept. Make choices, accept the consequences, even if it means dealing with government rhetoric and just plain wrong, double standardized systems. Don't want to deal with it? Make another choice. Vote for change. Work to inform. Get in front of lobbiests. That's a lot of time and work. Yes it is. So you do the work or accept the situation for what it is. You know it's not right, you know it's not fair, but you also know you're in a numerator in a story problem in the advanced class. The government has to make rules and legislation for the denominators in the other classes because there are more of them and they are less capable of reason and managing their lives on their own. I know it's not fair, but that's what being a member of society means sometimes.
Revelations? Well now, let's just have out with it. It is a nothing more than a script writer's way to hurry up and end the story on time and under budget while leaving the door open for a sequel and tying in the end with the beginning, bringing the story full circle. In the beginning, light, seven days later, life, in the end, darkness, death. (Forget codes and prophecies, let me spoil the ending for you: 7 days.) I mean please, from a literary point of view this is cliché, contrived and predictable.
(Oh come on, you didn't see that coming back at the parts with the burning bush and the Maccabees and the birth in the night with one star shining bright? "As it was in the beginning it is now and ever shall be?" Are all allusions lost on you? Did you also not get that Bruce Willis is dead in the Sixth Sense? Wow. Really? Okay. Well. Um. How about this: John (played by Patrick Duffy) has a dream, visions, if you will, of big scary horrible things happening on the planet, monsters and demons and horsemen oh my, it's just horrible so we better all prepare and repent and give lots of money to the church, that'll help, throwing money at a problem is always a good idea, and then in a big apocalyptic finale we find out Darth Vader is his father, but then we find out we've been duped, this is actually the last part of the trilogy and we'll have to wait a lot of years for the first part, but in between we'll be sold "the greatest story ever told" which ends up being not part II, but parts I, V, II and VI, but wait, this is a trilogy how come there are all these other parts, who are these disciples and what's all this about resurrection but most of it's really boring and involves small furry creatures and Michael Jackson, not even Hugh Jackman could save this story, Harrison Ford doesn't even stick around to see the first part which is actually the last part of the trilogy but really part III and if you can figure that out call George Lucas and clue him in, will you, because on the seventh part, which is now part III, he obviously needs a rest because we're all just really confused and disappointed and frankly we don't care anymore and are longing for the good old days of the apocalypse and bad prime time soap operas. Black and white, night and day, wrong and right.)
I also don't believe in ghosts. Per se. I can get caught up in a good ripping scary yarn (go see Shaun of the Dead), but I can distinguish between fiction and fact. I've had a couple of very strange things happen which cannot be explained by fact, science or coincidence. Can I logically explain those experiences? No. Can I reason away any occult thoughts or fears? Yes. Do I believe in ghosts and the undead and Shirley MacLain? No. Do I think things happen every day which defy logical scientific explanation? Yes. Do I trust local and government and religious authorities to tell us The Truth? No. Do I really care? No. Because those weird lights or glowing orbs or headless horsemen pose zero risk to the health and safety of the community. The man who beat and robbed me and the men who tried to help me poses a serious community risk. Local and government and religious authorities need to devote their time and skill and rules on people like him. The people who used my stolen wallet to assume my identity and drain my bank account within hours of my attack, and the bank tellers and the banks who allowed it to happen even after the cops and I called to freeze my accounts, and the rules and law which make victims of all of us while letting the perps run free to do their worst to really screw up our lives is much more of a concern to me than weird lights in the sky or Resurrection Mary. The very night I was beaten and robbed, hours after I had frozen my bank account, while cops were chasing to the the scene of "three weird lights in the sky" people where putting my driver's license, credit card, debit card and frequent flyer cards through a chop shop, using my life, my information, stealing it, giving me a makeover I didn't want, (According to the tellers who saw "my" driver's license I am now a short Latino woman with brown eyes and black hair) and draining my accounts, using my airmiles and having a good time at my expense, using my story, "I was mugged, someone stole my purse, I want to take all my money out of my account because they have my debit card. I want a new credit card account. Here's my new license. I want to transfer my airmiles to another frequent flyer account. Here's my new credit card." And there she was, on my ID, with "valid" infomation and a story to back her up, of course she knew the timing to validate the story, "proving" she was me, using my story, no less, to rob me again.
There's a big difference between distrust and paranoia. Smart, thoughtful, reading, open minded, sensible people distrust out of education and experience and keep what they've learned in the backs of their minds when it comes time to vote or make a decision. Thick headed, unreasonable, militant, lazy, deluded, arrogant, closed minded people become paranoid out of fear and scream and shout their fears as fact, spreading their deluded, uneducated and often wrong fear based opinion as a cover-up. You know, like Michael Moore.
I am open to the gray areas in all these cases, always interested in another idea or side of any of these things, observing and reporting, but I'm not one to run around Henny Pennying all over the place.
Until maybe now.
Oh sure, I joke about End of Days now and then.
But that's the beginning and end, a joke. Wink wink nudge nudge.
Now I'm not so sure.
What if...
Instead of fires and demons and horsemen (oh my) it's more like break-ups and money and sickness (oh my). Little mini-catastrophes in each of our lives causing us frustration, anger, anxiety, depression, feelings of inadequacy, malaise, sadness and general apathy about ourselves, our lives and those of others.
Take away Prozac and Zoloft and what do you get?
(I see dead people.)
Starting to connect a few dots?
Not with a bang (big or otherwise) but a whimper. (small, disillusioned and too tired to fight anymore, too jaded to care)
For this theory to work and for the sake of this conversation, let's say there's a supreme being, a god, or God. And this God has devised the Universe, created it in seven days. God is all being, all seeing, all knowing. God is: Omnipotent. The leader of the free, unfree and that'll cost ya worlds. Yeah. How very convenient. God knows everything but doesn't tell us much of anything. Made this lovely kingdom, landscaped a nice garden out back, put a boy, a girl and a snake in it and watched the madcap hilarity ensue.
(I'm proclaiming the end of all Eve bashing right now. Religious or otherwise, I'm sick of Eve getting all the blame for every little thing that goes wrong. God made her because Adam was lonely. When God made her he gave her faults like curiosity, gullibility, naiveté, seduction, and a sense of adventure. God gave Adam a week will, a brain in his penis and, well, a functioning penis. God took a risk with those all those qualities mingling around the garden. If God didn't want to populate the world, he wouldn't have given Eve that zest for life, thrill seeking, enjoy now pay later attitude and Adam the "Oh yeah, baby, she's hot and lookin' to score! I'm so in!" attitude and the ego to prod him through any doubts or second thoughts he might have. Oh yeah, and he trusted Eve, too, let's not forget that, because God knows you guys haven't forgotten that. Ever. Women are still paying for that little issue. Look, again, can we put this to rest once and for all? Eve was a bit, well, manipulative and yes she took advantage of Adam's "good" nature. But we're not all like her, okay? Besides, maybe Adam's ego was getting to her and she felt there were some control issues, that garden can be a small place with a God sized ego frolicking around, and Adam was obviously emotionally distant and sort of a whimp, and Eve was lacking a model plan because God just put them there without an instruction manual (Proof God is a man, he threw away the instructions) she had no girlfriends or older sisters or wise aunts to turn to for advice, so she resorted to some rather desperate and juvenile tactics because she didn't know what else to do. She couldn't convince Adam to go to couples counseling, God wasn't answering her calls, she was lonely, what with Adam off down to the shed every night with that dog creature, the snake had that really good apple and frankly he was the only one talking any sense around there.)
Okay, point, Trillian?
Right.
God, the supreme being, made their brains, gave them will and character (or lack thereof). If he cared so damn much about keeping them chaste why'd he equip them with "faulty" brains and bodies which conveniently fit together? Why'd Eve have boobs if she wasn't supposed to nurse the young? Why'd she have eggs in the first place? Why'd Adam have sperm? Even assuming God meant for them to mate up at some point, garden be damned, the whole problem seems to be that Eve and Adam disobeyed God's rules which were apparently sketchy at best. (Remember, Moses' Mountain Adventure was years away) God is supreme, irgo, smarter than the devil, so why did he not equip Adam and Eve with brains, wit, skill and conviction enough to resist the snake and apple? And just where was God, anyway? If he cared so damn much about Adam and Eve, why did he leave them unattended? Is God Danish? (A Great Dane...hey, I might actually be onto something there...speaking of conspiracy theories)
Right.
God gave people free will. Ooooh, like we're all supposed to be grateful for that. A lot of swutting responsibility, that free will of ours. Because along with free will, God also came up with the whole concept of right and wrong. Choices...what to do, what to do. WWJD? If God cares so much about us, like God allegedly cared about Adam and Eve, why not just program all of us for right and no wrong? Why do we have to learn lessons of humility? I for one do not need bad things spelled out for me in living color to appreciate good things. But maybe God thinks we're stupid. Maybe he's still regretting the whole free will thing. But wait! God is supreme! God is all knowing! God is: Omnipotent. God doesn't make mistakes.
God set us up to fail.
And therein lies The Answer.
God's got to end this somehow. Not with a bang but a self inflicted whimper.
Enter: Trillian's Abject Paranoia Theory
God is putting little issues, trauma and strife in our lives at an increasing rate of speed and occurrence to chink away at our armor of free will and independence. One after another we get by, get through our school problems, money problems, dating problems, car problems, health problems, job problems, life problems. We're not happy about any of it, we can deal with most of the problems taken one at a time, but they're coming faster and getting bigger and more all at once and there's no earthly way of knowing which direction we are going. There's no knowing where we're rowing or which way the river's flowing. Is it raining? Is it snowing? Is a hurricane a-blowing? Not a speck of light is showing. So the danger must be growing. Are the fires of hell a glowing? Is the grisly reaper mowing? Yes! The danger must be growing For the rowers keep on rowing. And they're certainly not showing any signs that they are slowing! Right. It's all too much and a big, fast, psychodelic boat trip and good God, give me drugs, something, anything to cope, I don't want to be bad I am not naturally evil but what can I do? How can I manage all of this? It's overwhelming...Zoloft. Prozac moments.
But what if we're not supposed to medicate our cares away?
What if...
All of these things thrown at us are not challenges to be met and conquered, but direct hits to our psyches and hearts and minds. How many of you honestly believe you have more to learn about humilty from living on a small income? More to learn about love by enduring another break-up? More to learn about being a good employee by dealing with a lay-off? More to learn about life by watching someone you care about die? At what point do you realize you're already pretty darned enlightened, you've already learned more lessons than a lot of people. And besides, you were smart and intuitive and perceptive enough to understand the concepts of those lessons without having to be tested on them.
What if...
The Apocalypse is actually just all of us having bleeding stomach ulcers, heart attacks, brain seizures or suicidal enlightenment from all of the problems, challenges and crises put before us at an increasing and more difficult rate. What if they really are supposed to kill us, not make us stronger?
ab·ject Pronunciation: 'ab-"jekt
Function: adjective Etymology: Middle English, from Latin abjectus, from past participle of abicere to cast off, from ab- + jacere to throw
1 : sunk to or existing in a low state or condition to lowest pitch of abject fortune thou art fallen -- John Milton>
2 a : cast down in spirit : SERVILE a man made abject by suffering b : showing utter hopelessness or resignation abject surrender
3 : expressing or offered in a humble and often ingratiating spirit abject flattery an abject apology
para·noia Pronunciation: "par-&-'noi-&
Function: noun Etymology: New Latin, from Greek, madness, from paranous demented, from para- + nous mind
1 : a psychosis characterized by systematized delusions of persecution or grandeur usually without hallucinations
2 : a tendency on the part of an individual or group toward excessive or irrational suspiciousness and distrustfulness of others
8:01 PM
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Hey, guess what?
I've got more proof the face of evil is stalking me!
Guess who got mugged again today?
Woo hoo! Way to go Trill!
Yeah. And this one was written up as a "brutal attack."
No broken bones this time, but I got body slammed by an enormous guy - a 300 pounder at least - and face and head bashed into the pavement several times and lots of bruises on my arms and torso where he slammed me down and held me.
However, I am proud to admit I was alert and aware enough to scream loud enough to wake the dead and cause him permanant hearing loss and got in a lot of kicks and punches which I am sure will leave a mark or two on him and quite possibly will make sexual relations difficult for him for a very long time.
Not that I advocate fighting 300 pound strangers. But, once he grabbed me and tried to pull me into an alley there was no way I was going to go without a fight. Mum, my job and apparently everyone else in my life except HWNMNBS needs me to manage everything for them. Can't have me hurt or killed when there's no one else here to manage the responsibilities of everyone else's lives.
This is the third time in 16 months, Trill, are you taking stupid risks? Asking for it?
Hmmmmmm. Well. Maybe so. If walking to the video place a few blocks from home at 4:00 on a Sunday afternoon while half the neighborhood is out either taking their kids trick or treating or going to parties at condos or local pubs is taking a risk and asking for it, then yes. I stand guilty. Stupidly risky and on my knees begging for it.
Yes. Broad daylight. Yes. Loads of people around. And yes, many of those loads of people, some of whom were mere feet away from me, came to my aid. Two kind and noble men began trying to pull the guy off me almost as soon as he body slammed me to the ground. They took a few hits for me. This guy was huge and mean and really angry and violent. He got even more angry because I was making such a fuss and that my handbag was stuck on my shoulder. He was relentless in his pursuit of my handbag and DVDs. I "helped" him get my handbag off my shoulder (nothing in that handbag, or any handbag or wallet, is worth injury or death, so just surrender it. I would have been hurt a lot worse if I'd resisted anymore than I did) He swooped up the DVDs from the pavement where I dropped them. (I'm not kidding - who knew Elvira's Haunted Hills and The Station Agent had such street value? Elvira, yeah, I can understand the appeal there. But Station Agent? Oh sure it was a hit at Sundance, but not exactly gangsta cool... Apparently violent muggers like to explore their sensitive side and watch indie movies about sensitive men.)
But even after getting my handbag and DVDs he was big and angry and really wanted to hurt someone. Apparently today was my day.
Violent. The man is violent and angry and weird and big and not intimidated by daylight or crowds or kicking, screaming nearly 6' tall women with two men helping her. Getting my handbag and DVDs wasn't enough for this guy, he wanted to hurt me and anyone else who tried to help me. No, I don't think he wanted me, Trillian, I think he wanted me, victim of the moment. He doesn't know or care about me and my physical and emtional well being. In fact, part of the reason he does what he does is the control and domination and power he has during and after an attack. Were he not in testicular pain, he'd be getting off on thoughts of the attack and how manly and powerful it made him feel, and how score! he subjectified, scared and scarred another person.
Right.
So what happened, Trillian?
Others of those loads of people within mere feet of me called 9-1-1. The cops arrived in minutes.
That's the only thing that scared the whale of attacker off down the alley. One squad car pursued him. The other stayed behind.
The two cops in that car were incredible. I now have to take back every disparaging remark I have made about Chicago cops. These two are amazing. They did things so far and above the call of duty for me that they probably broke a code or two in doing so.
Taking risks? Asking for it? The first thing officer P told me, after asking if I needed an ambulance and a bunch of other medical questions, was: You did everything right. This guy is psycho. He's doing this all up and down the (area main street) corridor. Middle of the day, people all around, acts like a drunk homeless guy and then he turns into the Hulk. If it hadn't been you it would have been her (pointing to a woman drinking coffee) or her (pointing to a woman holding a baby dressed in a pumpkin costume) or anyone else here. (The crowd gasps at the thought.) He started a few weeks ago and we're getting close to getting him. Maybe today will be the day.
The irony is that I saw this guy, pegged him as a potential tactic to further screw up my life sent by the face of evil, intuition was on overdrive, I crossed the street to get distance between us, checked the possible alternate routes, chose the "safest" and got myself away from the alley. I knew he was trouble, and I took all the safety measures. But just like officer P said, he turned into the Hulk. I never could have imagined such a fat, yes, huge, fat, sloppy guy, could move so fast, could be so agile and could punch so hard. Officer P said that's what needing drugs really bad can do for you.
I also never could have realized an assailant would be dumb/bold/weird enough to try to abduct, beat and rob a person with dozens of witnesses within six feet.
Taking dumb risks? Asking for it?
In this situation, it seems to me he was the one taking stupid risks and asking for it. This is the obtuse beauty of his crimes: Being stupid or desperate enough to attack anyone, anywhere, no matter how many people see him or try to help his victim.
Shy of staying in a maximum security compound and never leaving, I'm not sure how much smarter I can be about being safe. I don't know how much louder and definitively I can deny wanting anything to do with it.
That's the face of evil working its charm in my life. Fortunately I am in a heightened state of alertness, ready and waiting for its next move. If this had happened a few weeks ago I might not have been as alert. I might not have been looking at the world with defensive eyes, thinking one step ahead everything and planning for and being ready for every possible contingency the face of evil might have up its sleeves.
Bruises. Scrapes. Bump on head. Stolen handbag.
Ever lose your wallet? Yeah. Big fun.
Officer C actually helped me call my bank while waiting for Officer P to diagnose my battle wounds. Both officers told me time is of the essence with bank and credit cards. (Yeah, I knew that, but they've also got tons of paperwork and questions and reports that have to be done at the scene, how are you supposed to quickly call to cancel your accounts when your phone has been stolen and you are being examined and asked dozens of question? Enter Office C to call my bank for me. These guys have a firm grip on reality. They care about the big stuff but know it's the little stuff which can really be the bigger crime and bigger pain than the battle wounds.
I can't wait to deal with the DMV and my health insurance company for replacement cards.
Fat jerkface got a Nordstrom gift card, too. He'll probably give it to some skanky girl, or worse, his mother for Christmas.
And those DVDs are going to cost me a lot more than the five day rental fee.
(And yes, yes, yes, I will consider NetFlicks, okay? Yes. I am going to trade in my Match.com membership for a NetFlicks membership, which is poignant on a lot of levels.)
Let's review our personal safety checklist, shall we? Most of these go for men and women, guys, don't think your gender grants you immunity. My assailant was just as eager to get the guys trying to help me as he was to get me.
Do not wear headphones while walking in public. Check.
Do not talk on your cell phone while walking down the street. Check. (Not only is this annoying to other people, it causes you to be preoccupied, less aware. Assailants know this.)
Be alert and visually aware of your surroundings ALL THE TIME. Check.
Carry your keys somewhere other than your handbag. Check. (guys, carry them in a different pocket than your wallet or cash)
Look confident. Check. (When I'm walking alone, and in life in general, I adopt a "don't mess with me" look which causes people, even complete strangers to comment on my attitude.)
Trust your instincts. Check. Double check.
Get away. Cross the street. Turn back. Get to a more populated area. Check. Double and triple check.
Hide the bling bling. Don't prominantly wear expensive jewelry, coats or shoes, yes shoes. People are routinely beaten and mugged for personal "flash" items, espcially status or logo items. Check. (A woman at work was punched, thrown down and mugged for her "Louis Vuitton" handbag, her mugger was so kind as to dump out the contents of her handbag and take off with just the handbag. The kicker in this? It was fake, and a bad one at that. A friend's son was beaten up and relieved of his Air Jordans.)
Girls, I know, I love 'em too, but don't wear heels when you are out on your own. Check. (You can't run or even walk as fast or steady or confident in them, assailants know this and choose high heeled women over sensible heeled women in almost every attack.)
Girls, if you don't have to, don't carry a handbag. No check for me yesterday. (For many and various reasons I had a handbag with me.)
Carry a small amount of easily accessible cash to throw at an attacker. Check.
but... Do not display large amounts of cash. Check.
Don't take risky shortcuts. Check.
If you do all this and still get attacked:
Don't yell "help," yell fire or a random name. Check. (The name thing makes the attacker think you're with someone.)
Try to get as many details about the assailant as possible. Check. (I know. This is difficult. But try. The hand and finger shaped bruises my assailant left on my arm proved helpful to the cops, so yes, even small details can be useful. Something, anything about the assailant will be useful.)
Show anger, not fear. Check.
DO NOT LET THEM DRAG/CARRY/TAKE YOU ANYWHERE. ONCE YOU'RE IN AN ALLEY, CAR, OR HOUSE YOU ARE AS GOOD AS DEAD. Check. (This is the most important rule of all. My assailant picked me up and tried to get me into an alley, I know this golden rule and so that's when I attempted to neuter him with well placed kicks and knees. Even so, he was able to throw/shove me into the alley in seconds and that's where he bashed me into the pavement. If all those people hadn't been around and the two noble men hot on his heels, I have no doubt my assailant would have tried to drag me further into the alley and beat me as close to death as possible. As it was he got me further than I would have ever thought possible, and caused me more harm than I could have deemed possible in the short amount of time of the actual attack. And keep in mind, I am nearly 6' tall and not exactly fraile or vulnerable looking, I cannot stress this enough: If it can happen to me, it can happen to anyone.)
Best Friends in the Entire Frickin' Universe I Swear it's True
"Trill, do you still want to go to that Halloween party at (undisclosed location so as to not incriminate or sound pretentious)?" he said on Thursday night.
"Sure, yeah, I could use a night out to forget about life for a while. Did you get a costume together?" Trillian replied.
"Nah. I think I'll just go as me." was his answer.
"Okay. Yeah. Me too. I suppose I could pull out the ever ready sexy/goth witch/Carrie outfit if I feel like it." she nonplussed.
"I love the sexy/goth witch/Carrie. Go for it if you're up for it." he enthused.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he insisted that she could actually stand a chance with him.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he bought her lots of alcohol and drank watered down coke.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he didn't mention the Shoot to Kill If I Ever Show Even Remote Interest in a Musician, Artist, Writer or Poet rule.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he understands she's had a really rough time of it lately and desperately needed a night out, even though she didn't think her heart was in it.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he didn't ask a lot of difficult questions, but said enough for her to know if she wanted to talk he'd listen.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he insisted that she was not falling down drunk, but the little step thing is dangerously placed and that's why she fell flat on her face in the little neighborhood club on their way out.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he helped her up four flights of stairs, put an ice pack on her knee and helped her find info on this guy and told her, "yeah, I can totally see you two together."
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he insisted again that she could actually stand a chance with him.
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he didn't try to take advantage of her condition. (Slightly drunk, slightly injured, slightly horny)
He is the Best Friend in the Entire Universe because he is there for her when things are usual, and he is there for her when things are unusual.
1:15 AM
