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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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

 
Tuesday, April 26, 2005  
LA Woman
Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows


Everyone else is doing it, why shouldn't I?

Why I Should Be the Next American Idol

By Tricia McMillian

I think I should be the next American Idol because I can't sing. I mean I really cannot sing. I couldn't carry a tune in a basket! Something happens to the notes on the way from my brain to my voice and they come out really off key and unpleasant.

But! That doesn't stop me from being passionate about music! In fact, it only fuels my burning fires of passion for music even more!

And I do have musical ability! I was first chair clarinet throughout my school years, I was in the orchestra, jazz and stage bands! I also played oboe and dabbled with saxophone! I was very woodwindy. If it has a reed I seem to be capable with it.

Okay, so, music isn't my life, because my life is my life. And I haven't picked up an instrument since school. But music is a huge part of my life. The soundtrack part. Which is a pretty big part of any show. Soundtracks get a bad rap, especially with the whole '80s soundtrack movies and subsequent teen music vehicle movies and shows like Dawson's Creek and The OC thing. I totally understand why soundtrack has a bad connotation. But most of us have a soundtrack to our lives. If a person doesn't have a soundtrack, even a few songs, I don't trust them. I once went out with a guy who claimed he didn't like music. Period. I believed him, I didn't try to change him or debate him, but the fact that he claimed to not like music, period, even if he was lying, was but one indication that he was not a) the guy for me and b) an altogether functioning human being.

I love, love LOVE, L-O-V-E music. I hear it all the time, even when there's no music actually playing I still have songs and tunes running through my head. All sorts of songs.

Which is one of the main reasons why I should be the next American Idol. Heck, I should be the Universe Idol.

You may be wondering why a person who admits she cannot carry a tune in a basket should feel she has a right to lay claim to the title Universe Idol.

Fair enough. Being passionate about music and being clever with a reeded instrument in school bands isn't really qualification enough. Just because Frank Sinatra managed to wiggle out a 50+ year career in music and all he ever did was talk and sing one word or two with heavy backing instrumentals doesn't mean anyone else can. I know. We won't get fooled again.

I should be Universe Idol because I know a ton of songs and because I know how the biz works and I know it's all marketing and hype and that musical talent has absolutely nothing to do with success in the biz.

I also have nothing but loathing, contempt and disdain for recording industry executives.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking why would I want to involve myself in a business, a biz, for which I have nothing but loathing, contempt and disdain? You're thinking that Prince fellow has much the same outlook and incredible talent, he can sing and does things with a guitar no mortal should be able to do and has something to say yet still pens a swutting irresistibly naughty and guiltily stupid but lovable song AND he's proved he can do it on his own, his way, so really, based on my theory, shouldn't he be the Universe Idol? Isn't that pretty much undisputed?

Well yeah. There's Prince. Everyone always brings up Prince. I know. I'm not worthy to even walk in his shadow. All hail Prince. I agree.

But. He's an actual God.

Not a mere idol.

And that's the next reason why I should be Universe Idol.

Have you looked up the term idol lately?

Here, I'll do it for you:

1 : a representation or symbol of an object of worship; broadly : a false god
2 a : a likeness of something b obsolete : PRETENDER, IMPOSTOR
3 : a form or appearance visible but without substance
4 : an object of extreme devotion < a movie idol >; also : IDEAL 2
5 : a false conception : FALLACY

Ah ha! Now you're thinking, "hey, maybe Trillian's onto something here."

That's right! While not comfortable with the concept of false gods (unlike recording biz execs whose souls are contractually bound to Satan and therefore have no problem creating as many false gods as the public will buy), I am a likeness of something (I haven't figured out what, yet, but I am certain I am the likeness of something), and I DO pretend and am an impostor when it comes to actually being able to, you know, sing, I am a form and visable appearance completely without musical substance, okay the extreme devotion thing might be an issue, but if Britney Spears can do it certainly I should be able to find a place, ideal? well, I have ideals, so that should count for something, and finally, false conception, a fallacy. My singing ability is indeed a fallacy. Just like Britney Spears.

I often wonder if anyone who watches Pop Idol, American Idol, World Idol understands what the word idol means. I suspect they haven't bothered to look it up. I suspect they aren't old enough to have studied for their college entrance exams, or they probably didn't score well in the verbal part of their exams if they are old enough.

Words are important. Language is important. Communication is key. You might want to be sure you fully understand the meaning of the words and terms you bandy about.

Because you can be certain the producers and lawyers have done their homework.

They are very, very aware of the ironic joke they're playing and laughing all the way to the bank. When anyone questions the talent, quality and substance of the show and the sickly sweet pabulum (insipid, simplistic, or bland) it generates, the producers are quick to say, "We're just giving the public what it wants." with a smug, self satisfied shrug of shoulders. Their lawyers then whip out the gazillion paged document outlining the responsibilities of the show, wherein the term idol is clearly defined. They'll even insert the synonyms to prove they are right and the viewing public is stupid: American False God, American Pretender, American Impostor, American Appearance Without Substance, American Ideal.

American Fallacy.


"See?" They'll smarmily say, "We never said we were going to give you talent or anything real or in fact any substance whatsoever!"

(I love the UK versions of those, especially Pop Imposter. So succinct. So double entendre. So funny.)

Right. So. Now that we're all clear on the meaning of the title Universe Idol, it's making more sense someone like me, someone who couldn't sing in tune to save her life, but who loves to sing anyway, who loves music and has a broad, broad knowledge of music, someone who hates the recording biz and the people in it and, probably most importantly, someone with a background in marketing. Speaking of impostors and fallacy. Wouldn't it be great if the Universe Idol was so false they beat the biz guys (and they are all guys, dirty old men in any other walk of life) at their own game?

Yeah. That victory would be sweet.

Right now some of you who know about these things are thinking, "Uh, Trill, this has been done. Last year there was this guy, William Hung, who was really bad and people loved him and he's got a recording gig and a tour and everything."

Ah yes. Mr. Hung.

I applaud him. And good luck to him. But. He's got a gimmick. He's cute. He's trying really hard. He's an everydork. He's the voice inside us that says "c'mon, give it a go, the worst that will happen is you'll make someone laugh." He's got that smarmy "I believe in myself and so all things are possible" attitude. Let's face it, the guy is likable. He's likable because he's too bad to be anything other than sincere.

I'm not.

I'm cheeky. I'm irreverant. I'm sarcastic. There is very little I take seriously. Yeah, I'm jaded. So I'm ahead of the game. We can skip the whole falling out with the record company over artistic differences bit and go straight to the long hiatus while the contract runs down. I know a lot about marketing. I have a plan. I have ulterior motives. And I want to do this for the sole purpose of sticking it to a bunch of dirty old men taking advantage of not only young hopefuls, but of the consuming public. (Okay, so yeah, I am sincere in that aspect. But it's an insincere sincerity.)

The really great part about this adventure is that I will have a chance to expose the apparently so pabulum fed they don't know any better public to some really great songs.

If I botch them so badly the original artists will rush to their programing buyers to get their originals on air so that people will understand these songs are actually really good, they were just performed really badly. (You can thank me later.)

And there's the subversively genius part of my diabolical plan. (bwa ha ha implied)

This is all about getting better music in the psyche of the population. Better living through better music. People are a mess partially because they've got really bad music being forced into their subconscious. Television advertising and the worst enemy: Music piped into public spaces. I happen to pay attention to piped in music in public spaces. You should, too. There's an entire industry based on music played in public places. There are researchers, psychologists, sociologists and recording company execs who study music patterns and how people react not only to certain tempos, but certain songs. Certain songs can actually plant seeds for needs, like, more pizza rolls, for instance. This is good for merchants and good for recording companies. You're humming along to the latest churned out fodder, you're buying pizza rolls, everybody wins except the consumer whose mind was messed with and came home earwormed with a song they hate and with pizza rolls they didn't really want. And to be fair, it's not just the churned out current fodder. Next time you're shopping pay attention to what you hear. You will probably discover at some point you will hear a song you actually like, maybe an older song, maybe something that reminds you of high school. And pizza rolls. The song makes you happy. Pizza rolls make you happy. You buy the pizza rolls, go home, go online, and lookee there! That song from high school is on a compilation cd due out next week! And look at all those other great songs on there! And there's going to be a reunion tour! Sweet!

This is not a coincidence.

Nothing in the Universe is random. Got it? Good.

Learn to live by that rule and you will have a long and prosperous career in marketing.

My plan is to foil the evil music empire by playing their own game. The above mentioned plan should get better music in the psyche of the Universe and maybe, well, who knows. Maybe better things will happen.

Hear me now, believe me later: Get some decent music in peoples' heads and things will get better.

And once I am crowned Universe Idol, I will disappear. Never to be heard from again.

And that is the best reason why I should be Universe Idol.

Perhaps the rest of the gang will watch and learn from me and the Universe will finally be rid of this evil empire threatening our very way of life.

Mr. Mojo Risin'

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light
Or just another lost angel...City of Night
City of Night, City of Night, City of Night, woo, c'mon

L.A. Woman, L.A. Woman
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
L.A. Woman Sunday afternoon
Drive thru your suburbs
Into your blues, into your blues, yeah
Into your blue-blue Blues
Into your blues, ohh, yeah

I see your hair is burnin'
Hills are filled with fire
If they say I never loved you
You know they are a liar
Drivin' down your freeways
Midnite alleys roam
Cops in cars, the topless bars
Never saw a woman...
So alone, so alone
So alone, so alone

Motel Money Murder Madness
Let's change the mood from glad to sadness

Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'
Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'
Got to keep on risin'
Mr. Mojo Risin', Mr. Mojo Risin'
Mojo Risin', gotta Mojo Risin'
Mr. Mojo Risin', gotta keep on risin'
Risin', risin'
Gone risin', risin'
I'm gone risin', risin'
I gotta risin', risin'
Well, risin', risin'
I gotta, wooo, yeah, risin'
Woah, ohh yeah

Well, I just got into town about an hour ago
Took a look around, see which way the wind blow
Where the little girls in their Hollywood bungalows

Are you a lucky little lady in the City of Light
Or just another lost angel...City of Night
City of Night, City of Night, City of Night, woah, c'mon

L.A. Woman, L.A. Woman
L.A. Woman, your my woman
Little L.A. Woman, Little L.A. Woman
L.A. L.A. Woman Woman
L.A. Woman c'mon

8:49 PM

 
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