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.
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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.
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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

 
Friday, July 29, 2005  
Gigantic
Maybe you heard about the little music party held in Chicago last weekend.

I have to give Perry Farrell credit for bringing back Lollapalooza. (I’m not sure where to begin counting how many ways that statement is weird.) I really do have to give sincere credit and thanks to the organizers of the fest. Event planning is an enormous pain in the behind. Add to it band schedules, egos, logistics and worst of all, the City of Chicago convention and event office red tape and, well, how to put this politely, erm, Mayor’s Office bull shit, and I cannot even comprehend all the work, headaches and frustration which went into making Lollapalooza 2005 happen. And not only did it happen, it happened by all counts successfully and without major incident (apart from a certain Anton Newcombe who really, really, really needs to grow up or not be allowed to play anything other than a one stage venue where he and his fans can make fun of whomever they want in the privacy of their own stupidity and rudeness. Anton, I used to ‘dig’ you, or, well, at least respected what you were attempting to do musically, but man, you were an immature, stupid, school yard bullying jerk. There, I said it. I stooped to his level. I’m not fond of Dashboard Confessional, either, but dude, it’s not their fault they were scheduled to play opposite you. Be mad at the situation, not the other band. Lolla and let lolla. 60 bands, four stages, two days, you do the math. The organizers did a really swell job of offering something for everyone at any given point on both days. But that means at least two bands performing at the same time. There will be noise seepage. Maybe you felt threatened by the much larger crowd at Dashboard Confessional. Maybe you were feeling insecure. Maybe you were a jealous guy. But bullying and mocking other musicians is a behavioral low, even for a rock God such as yourself. And you know what? If Dashboard Confessional rises to the success of Bon Jovi, good for them. Bon Jovi is still touring, selling records and are generally working musicians 20 some years after their first release. Erm, Anton, last I heard you weren’t exactly getting a lot of gigs or selling a lot of records. Yes, that speaks to the general mediocrity and malaise of the music listening public and the boring and apparently deaf recording company execs, and no, I’m not a fan of Bon Jovi, either. But, it’s not Bon Jovi’s fault more people don’t have a taste for more gutsier, different, at times unsettling indie rock. Sheesh, Anton, sheesh. You really embarrassed yourself and those of us who were looking forward to seeing you on stage. Whoa. Yeah. Just a few issues there...I was met with gape mouthed wide eyed looks of concern and confusion from my friends when I tried to explain Anton Newcombe and why I wanted to see him. Especially after his pathetic fit of onstage jealousy of Dashboard Confessional.)

Right. So. Lollapalooza. Apart from a certain Mr. Newcombe, it was a really well planned, well organized weekend. I was impressed with every aspect. Which from me, with my zero expectation attitude firmly in place, is saying a lot. A lot. Even the insane heat and humidity, which could have caused some serious problems, was dealt with as best as possible. Cooling buses, fans, water stations, and lots and lots of warnings about what alcohol can do to a person in that kind of heat, and plenty of medic areas and professionals on hand for those who were stupid enough to not heed those warnings or who simply overestimated their ability to handle the ridiculous heat. As for my co-Lolla-ites, I give high marks to almost everyone who attended. There was a huge, huge range of ages and musical tastes, yet everyone seemed to get along or at least respect their co-Lolla-ites. People were friendly. People were helpful. People were, you know, cool, but not cool in that “Look at me, I’m so cool kind of way” but in the “hey, that’s cool, peace, man” kind of way. (I’ll not bore you by doling out my opinions of the bands themselves, but if you want to know about a specific band’s performance let me know. I tried to split my time between most of the performances so I saw or heard at least a song or two by most of the acts. Even Dashboard Confessional. Whom I am now a fan of simply because Anton Newcombe embarrassed himself and his fans to the point of shame, which made me realize, like their music or not, these guys are professionals and good sports and a bazillion times more mature than Anton Newcombe and I respect them for that.)

So. Good times were had by all except Anton Newcombe. And I think the Kaiser Chiefs would like a do-over. But. Good times, good music, good crowd.

Except.

Well. Not so much except.

More like “why is human nature this way?” And, “I think we, as a society, are in trouble.”

Let’s talk Pixies. It’s no secret I am a huge Pixies fan. Heck, let’s dip into the emotion credit jar and spend one on the Pixies. They’re worthy of an emotion: I la la la love the Pixies. I fell hard and fast, it was love at first sound for me, and I haven’t wavered since. Yeah. I’m so loyal and true. Such a nice girl. Such a good little Girl Scout. Because of my obviously biased opinion I may be a bit too close to the situation to see it with a sense of humor.

But then again, the issues are not necessarily Pixies related.

Let me try to explain. Maybe someone can shed some enlightenment my way.

The Pixies. Even people who don’t care for their music usually give them credit for being amazingly talented. If you are not familiar with them or have never had the opportunity to see them live, let’s just leave it at this: Talent not of this world. They do things with guitars that shouldn’t be possible, doesn’t always make sense, and yet creates an end result which will blow your mind and your socks off. They are, collectively and individually, undisputed legends. You don’t have to “get” their lyrics to understand they create something beyond rock, something beyond music. And they make it look so darned easy and fun and effortless. They are: Rock Olympians.

Right. They’ve got a lot of talent. Fair to say? Everyone agree with that statement? Okay. So. Having an opportunity to see them perform live is like having an opportunity to see Jimi Hendrix or Jim Morrison or Prince live. Even if you’re really not into their music, you owe it to yourself to see this talent and genius in action if for no other reason than to be able to tell your grandkids you saw them live. How cool would it be to have seen Jimi Hendrix live? Yeah. Pretty cool. Pixies live? Three times the guitars, three times the talent, three times the awe. (Oh. And David Lovering, too.) Yeah. Pretty cool.

One of the cool things about the Pixies is that they did it their way and were incredibly successful (okay, that’s a discussion for another time, but now, here, we’ll call them successful) and critically acclaimed. And they did it without pandering to record company machines. They never looked slick, or deliberately scruffy, or in any way whatsoever like biz styled rock Gods. (U2, are you listening?) They look like people you hung out with in college, or the people you see in the grocery yet don’t really notice. They’re, you know, normal looking. And that in itself is nothing shy of a recording business miracle. Oh sure, Kim is hot in her own no fuss, no glam way. And Joey Santiago has a certain look which, is, you know, kind of sexy. But. Their looks have never been styled or highlighted or, well, you know. SimonCowellized. (I’m trying to imagine Frank with boy band hair and Kim with a Jewelesque pathetic pandering to the male public glitzy makeover and absolutely cracking up at the image I’m imagining) I know a lot of guys, a lot of guys who found Kim to be incredibly hot just as she was. They found her hot because she is, well, you know, nice looking, but I think it has more to do with her ability to play guitar and sing and do both in a very unique and mesmerizing way. She always looks like she is absolutely in love with what she is doing. She looks at times serene. She’s, you know, doing the job she loves and doing it well. Naturally there are men who find that quality sexy.

Saturday night. A huge crowd began gathering an hour before the Pixies were due to go on stage. Fifteen minutes before the show the park was filled shoulder to shoulder with people trying to find one little viewing area of the stage. There were die hard fans (ahem, is it hot in here?) and casual fans, and curiosity seekers who just knew this was going to be something worth seeing, there was tangible excitement and giddy anticipation in the air. (Poor Walkmen on the stage opposite the Pixies, man, bummer of a time slot. Better luck next time guys.) Even in the twilight of the evening it was still hot. Really hot.

And right on time, the Pixies came on stage. The crowd went swutting wild. People say that, I know it’s a cliché, but honestly, the crowd went wild and the Pixies hadn’t even strummed a note. In true Pixies fashion, there was a brief acknowledgment of appreciation and the music began. People who see the Pixies live sometimes criticize them for their lack of audience participation. If you like to be talked to by a guy on stage, I recommend someone like the Kaiser Chiefs or Billy Idol or Wayne Newton where you’ll get a lot of audience participation and interaction. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. A good show with audience interaction can be engaging and fun. However. Just as the Pixies are not about fashion or looks, they are also not about Vegas-esque stage dialog. They are there to perform their music. Period. The attendees pay money to hear them perform their songs, to see them do what they do with those guitars. Period. They do their job and they do it really, really well. The Pixies interact with the audience by playing their music. Think about it. Do you really want to see Joey or Frank or even Kim strutting about the stage or holding the mic out to the crowd, or, ye gads, telling jokes? (If you saw David Lovering perform his, erm, um, “act” when he toured with Frank and Catholics, you know exactly what I mean and why it’s good the Pixies don’t do a lot of audience participation. Sorry David. You just weren’t funny or interesting. Heckuva a drummer, though, dude, heckuva drummer.) Okay. The Pixies came out, crowd went wild, and they began playing. Fans were still going wild.

However.

I started hearing comments from the men standing in my immediate area. “Wow, did she get ugly.” “Not aging well...” “Where are the What Not to Wear girls?” “Is that really Kim?” “She’s fat!”

I think it was that last remark which tipped me over the edge. There was Kim Deal. Kim Swutting Deal, no more than twenty feet from us, doing her bass thing, smiling, happy, clearly enjoying what she was doing and doing it really well, and what she does is the stuff of legends, and yet guys were criticizing her appearance. Which is bad enough for a lot of reasons.

However. Making this situation more repugnant, the remarks more callous, uncalled for and stupid, was that also on stage, right next to a normal sized Kim (yes, thicker than in the past, but certainly not fat. Okay, bigger than Jessica Simpson, sure, but the day Jessica Simpson is the gauge for normal anything is the day I happily listen to well, Jessica Simpson. Kim Deal: Normal. Not fat.) Next to normal sized Kim was the largest Frank Black the world has ever seen. I was honestly really, really, really worried that the headlines would read: Tragedy Strikes Lollapalooza When Legendary Pixies Frontman Frank Black Dies of Heart Attack While Performing This Monkey’s Gone to Heaven. The heat, Frank’s obviously seriously increased girth, and the work he puts into his performance were enough to massive coronary anyone. No disrespect to any large people, or Frank, and I’m not judging you or your performance on your weight. I couldn’t care less what you look like or what the scales read, but, seriously, Frank, we would be crushed if anything happened to you. Please, please, take care of yourself. Don’t pull a John Candy on us.

So. Enormous Frank Black dwarfing a normal sized Kim Deal. And yet, no one, at least no one I heard, certainly not the guys who were criticizing Kim’s looks, were making one single remark about Frank’s weight or outfit. Or Joey Santiago’s unsuccessful attempt at trying to hide his male pattern balding. Or David Lovering’s need for a better haircut, or any haircut. Nope. I heard not one word about any of the guys in the band other than compliments for their musical abilities. But I heard a non stop hour of comments about how Kim looks. Even, even when she sang a flawless, beautiful, highlight of their performance rendition of Gigantic, one guy had the audicity to proclaim, mercenarily, "I'm surprised she can still sing that way. You'd think her voice would be deeper. It's weird hearing that voice coming out of her now."

What the...???

She's put on maybe 20 pounds. Maybe. Why would her voice change? Was he not seeing the same Frank Black I was seeing? Why would he not marvel that Frank's voice hadn't changed because of the at least 100 pounds he's gained?

Maybe it’s because Frank has always been a husky guy and so seeing him large wasn’t a “surprise.” (And for the last time, no it doesn’t matter. He’s not auditioning for American Idol (Oh man would I love (oops, emotion demerit) to see that audition, someone, please, Mad TV? Please do a skit of the Pixies auditioning for American Idol. Please? Pretty please? I’ll write it for you...)) People know he’s a larger guy and expect him to be big.

But still. Even so. Why does this double standard prevail? In of all places the Pixies stage? The swutting Pixies. It’s always been about the music. Why, now, almost 20 years after their debut, 20 years after establishing themselves as being all about the music and not about their personal appearance, are people so quick to judge the one female member of the band on her looks? Nevermind that she is doing incredible things with the guitar individually and collectively with the band? Nevermind her male bandmates are escaping criticism for their looks?

Am I being a high horsed feminazi, or is this wrong and weird?

Is this a result of too much hotornot, this scary new dating site, People magazine, American Idol and MTV? Oh wait, MTV would have to actually play, you know, music videos to stand accused of media glamming. (I know, cavalier concept that. Music Television playing Music? Preposterous.) But has it really come to this? One of the last bastions of talent prevailing over style, the Pixies, or rather, Kim Deal, have now been beaten by the media glam machine?

If so, we’re in serious, serious trouble. Even more than I thought. I knew it was bad. I knew we were heading into some dangerously shallow (but pretty!) water in the gene pool. But now I’m afraid. Very afraid. Not just for my less than pretty self, but for the future of society. That pretty but shallow gene pool is going to be difficult and boring place to swim.

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