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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or Search by State

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

 
Wednesday, January 12, 2005  
Reality Wednesday
Survivor, The Move, Part II

Continued from last week...

This week's installment sees The Mover sitting on a floor amid large boxes and miscellaneous household and personal items.

She is laughing.

But it's not funny.

She is laughing hysterically.

Cut to on screen bullet point graphic:
Hysteric.
1 : a psychoneurosis marked by emotional excitability and disturbances of the psychic, sensory, vasomotor, and visceral functions
2 : behavior exhibiting overwhelming or unmanageable fear or emotional excess

Cut back to The Mover, amid boxes.

Emotional excess! Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

That's a good one! Emotional excess! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Disturbed visceral functions! ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Insert Beavis and Butthead clip:
Heh heh heh they said vasomotor heh heh heh heh

Cut back to The Mover.
Turn the camera off! I mean it! Seriously. I'm not some ditzy actress wannabe pretending to be a real person vying for a million dollar prize. I'm a real, actual person trying to move my life across town and the movers are going to show up in 144 hours. Yes. 144 hours. Do you see this stuff? Do you see all these boxes I've already packed? I have no idea where this stuff came from! I'm not an accumulator! Well. I guess I am. I didn't think I was. But the boxes and full dumpsters prove I've obviously accumulated stuff. How? When did this happen? When did I become "settled" into this apartment? Before I moved here I had my life packed in a few boxes and suitcases and stored in a corner of my parents' cellar. How did I get this stuff? What is it? I've parted with a lot of stuff, looked on in disbelief that I had some of it, made emotional decisions to rid myself of others of it. The tsunami forced poignantly timed perspective on all of this, they're just things, they don't matter. I thought I was down to the essential or "can't part with it" stuff. And yet, look at all these boxes! I try to not have emotional attachments to many things. But here's MY reality show: I do. (fit of hysterical laughter)

Abruptly stops laughing.

Hey!

Some of you youngsters have probably never seen one of these:

The Mover slides a Mac Classic from behind a box.

I loved this Mac. I still love this Mac. It's an icon of society and my life. It's what set me off on this so called career of mine. Yes. The very career on which I have lost perspective. It all started on here. (pointing to the antiquated Mac) Sure. I could pitch it. They're going for $75 on eBay, if I ever really want one again I could just troll eBay and get another one. But. It wouldn't be THIS one. It wouldn't be mine. All mine. This was the coolest thing I'd ever been given. It was a birthday present from my brother back when none of the other kids had computers. Or if they did, they had those geeky homemade cobalordosorwhatever things. My brother bought one the day they hit the market, thinking it was kind of cool and hoping to use it for work. I visited him and used it and took to it like a duck to water, a few months later this showed up for my birthday. Half my class came over to see it. For a brief (very brief) moment in my otherwise very unpopular and socially marred formative years, I was cool. The guys wanted to be with me (even if only to use me to get to my Mac) and some of the girls wanted to be me. Okay. Maybe that's an overexaggerated hope that maybe I had a brief shining moment of coolness at least once in my life. Still. The kids all thought it was really cool. Even though the fact that I could make that baby sing and dance and produce some very cool art should have put me firmly in the geek and loser group. But. I made art. Really cool art. Okay. "Cool art" considering heretofore the computer art we'd seen was those dumb pictures made from aligning keyboard characters to form "silhouettes" of cartoon characters the computer lab geeks showed off on open house night. Sure. Some of the girls called me Velma. That tart Julie, for one. Her skanky cousin Beth for another. But so what? I had my Mac and I didn't need to go to the dumb dances at school because my Mac was infinitely more fun and interesting...

Oh geeze. Sorry.

See? This is what I'm talking about...moving forces you to stare your life in the face. It's like that really intense therapy where you get confronted and bullied into facing your issues. You are forced to look at every single item you have in your life, from a Mac Classic to a tube of hydrocortisone, evaluate its worth - use, fiscal and emotional - and decide whether or not it's "worth" moving and keeping. Yes. I know. I'm lucky. I have stuff and a place to put my stuff. I am very aware and grateful for that.

But.

I'm still faced with these decisions and the emotional upheaval they cause.
And if, like me, you are moving to a smaller place, it's even worse. Because you won't have an inch of extra space. Physics takes over your life. The new place has less physical square footage than the current physical square footage. There is no choice but to eliminate things because fundamental principles of physics will not allow the same amount of stuff to be put into a smaller place. Physics, my friends. Laws of physics. They're unbending, unwavering and a real pain in the arse.

(Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha - hysterical laughing)

Jostling of camera. Voices of production people.

I don't know, I think there's something wrong with her. She just keeps laughing and pointing at stuff and sometimes she cries. Are we really going to air this?

We can edit a lot of it but we won't have enough for a show.

Screen goes black, then to a test pattern.

The producers of Survivor, The Move, apologize for the contestant's inability to do anything but sit on the floor in a fit of hysterics. You wanted reality. We gave it to you. Reality is not hot babes in a hot tub getting drunk and freaky in an effort to "win" money and a man.

The ultimate reality is: Reality is not pretty. It is sobering. It is ugly and painful.

9:35 AM

 
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