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

 
Monday, August 08, 2005  
There was an incident at the grocery. A rather scary incident. An incident involving violence. No I haven't moved back to my old 'hood. Yes, the grocery is in my new neighborhood. Not the ghetto grocer where I used to live. Uh uh. Nope. This was in "the nice" grocery. The one where I only buy cat food and, well, Michigan blueberries because they still had some which looked really good. But I usually only shop there because they have treats Furry Creature likes. I can't afford to buy food for myself there.

It was the usual after work crowded scene in any grocery. People rushing around frantically trying to buy whatever it is people frantically rush around buying after work, you know those last minute groceries you need RIGHT NOW. Exotic lettuce. Imported cheese. Ostrich patties. You know. Basics to throw together a simple and quick dinner.

I was not in a hurry. I wanted to get Furry Creature some treats and that was it. No rush, no urgent Ostrich patty crisis. Just some kitty treats. I was a nice co-grocer. I got out of the way of the frantic people. I didn't mind, well, not too much, that the lines were 5 - 6 people deep. I sauntered over to the produce thinking I'd treat myself to a few "good" apples.

That's when I chanced upon the Michigan blueberries. Yum yum. There were a few pints of them next to the New Jersey blueberries. (not so yum yum) I took a good look at all three pints, thinking it was a bit late for Michigan blueberries and perhaps these had been sitting there a long time and might be not so fresh. As I examined the bottom of the pints, a woman, a rather, well, out of place looking woman shoved me slightly and grabbed a pint of the New Jersey blueberries. For whatever unknown and bizarre reason, I chose this moment to exercise my new opposite plan. So instead of giving her an evil death gaze I smiled and said in my best Hi! I'm from a really small town where everyone is friendly voice, "There are a few pints of Michigan blueberries here, bit late in the season but they seem to be okay. They're the same price at the New Jersey berries and probably a whole lot better!" I said sounding like a housewife on a heavy dose of tranquilizers as I proffered a pint to her. She seemed stunned and mad all at the same time. I just stood there holding out the pint of blueberries to her. She finally set down the New Jersey berries and grabbed, yes, grabbed the pint out of my hand. (You're welcome. mutter mutter. manners. mutter mutter. savages mutter mutter. don't expect anything. mutter mutter.)

I made my way to the express checkout lane. 10 items or less. Yep! I've only got three items! I'm not going to notice everyone else in the 10 items or less cash only line has at least 15 items and debit card! Nope! Because I have no expectations, good or bad! And I'm not in a hurry, so it really doesn't matter!

I was in that aware yet unaware grocery line trance. Aware enough to move forward as it progresses to my turn in line, but unaware of pretty much everything else except the tabloid headlines or if fate deems it, the behind of a cute boy. (Hey, I'm human, I'm not dead, I'm just not feeling anything. I've still got eyes. Sheesh.) There were no cute boys. And it was the day before fresh tabloids day, so the pickings were slim and I had to resort to leafing through magazines.

I was vaguely aware of the people in line behind me. And then, in my peripheral vision, I saw It. It being a hand smacking someone else's head. Really hard. Hard enough that the someone else who's head it was keeled forward and shoved into me. And I dropped the magazine I was leafing through and my very late in the season Michigan blueberries.

I felt some emotions. I scrambled to pick up the magazine and my blueberries hoping they weren't smushed. I stood up and looked at the person to whom the hand that smacked belonged.

And there I was, staring face to face with a feminazi on a mission. A mission from, well, I don't know exactly where she came from, probably Indiana gauging by the severity of her heavily peroxided femullet. She was on a mission and she wasn't going to let anyone, especially a woman like me (oh come on, you know what I mean: Nice shoes, haircut and highlights which are actually in style, iPod, cute tote bag, Michigan blueberries) standing there looking at the Glamour Don'ts get in her way.

You know how people use the term "smack her around a bit" sort of jokingly? I've done it. "The network's down again," the IS geek will say unapologetically. I will respond, "Have you tried smacking it around a bit? If that doesn't work, try smacking Jeff around a bit." Innocent remark, right? Well. Never again.

This femulleted woman made me realize there are people who smack other people around for no good reason and it's not funny. I mean, I was already aware these people exist, I dated one a long time ago. But. This woman was a bully. And she had the cheek to shove the woman whom she had smacked in the head while saying, "Apologize to the girl. You made her drop her stuff. Ha ha ha ha ha."

I know. I didn't see the humor in it either. I guess I don't get those kinds of jokes. I don't like the Three Stooges, either.

The woman who was being shoved around by the femulleted feminazi was the woman I had offered the blueberries to earlier. "Ah. Well. This could explain a few things about her lack of manners..." I thought and apologized to the Universe and anyone else who might have heard me being intolerant of her in the produce aisle. She stammered out an "I'm sorry." I told her it was no biggie, everything's cool with me.

Which the femullet found really funny for some reason.

She then set her basket on the conveyor. I did not have my stuff on the conveyor because, well, there hadn't been space. But during the smackdown the line had progressed and there was now space on the conveyor. And the femullet was taking my place with her basket of a lot more than 10 items.

So I squeezed my kitty treats and blueberries between her basket and the little separator bar thing cordoning off the groceries belonging to the person ahead of me. Femullet got mad that I touched her basket.

Or. Well. I know darned well she thought she was pulling a fast one and cutting in line ahead of me and she was mad that I was asserting myself by squeezing my stuff in line ahead of hers. Where it should be.

And yes, yes! I felt stupid for having nothing but two pouches of kitty treats and blueberries to assert myself with, okay? Yes. I see the ineffectuality of my groceries in the face of this robo femullet on a mission to cut in line. Next time I'll be sure to buy something like artichokes and rat poison just in case a bullying feminazi with a mullet tries to cut in line ahead of me.

And just in case I didn't see the ineffectuality of my groceries, she made it clear to me. "Awwwww, duz you hab a widdow pussy at home? Widdow pussy food for the widdow pussy?" she said in a mocking tone.

Yes. She said pussy three times. This was either supposed to embarrass me or entice me. I'm not really up on lesbian pick up lines, so maybe this was supposed to be funny or cute or titillating. But I just thought it was dumb. And it upset her companion/punching bag. And I'm not a lesbian. And so I chose to go with the make me mad assumption.

My tactic? Really annoy the crap out of her. I used my opposite tactic again and in my Hi! I'm from a really small town where everyone is friendly voice said, "Yes, I do have a cat at home! But he's not so little! Would you like to see a photograph?" (Always, always carry a photo of a cute animal or child with you. They come in handy in more ways than you can ever imagine.)

The woman ahead of me, who was obviously trying to pretend she hadn't seen or heard any of this let out a laugh. This bothered the feminazi. A lot. She had enough sense to know she was being mocked. So, in a really, really loud voice she said, "You carry around a pitcher of your pussy?!!!"

Oh sure, a lot of people turned to stare at her and me, too, but mostly her. But I wasnt' bothered. A) She was making a fool of herself, not me, and B) She had no idea who she was messing with. She had no idea she was messing with a woman who has no expectations and almost no emotions and therefore feels no shame, embarrassment or guilt. A woman intent on doing the exact opposite of what she'd normally do.

"Yep! Here he is!" I beamed back at her with a mega watt beauty pageant smile, all four years of orthodontia glaring at her in it's glory. (Hi! I'm from a really small town where everyone is friendly and this is my cat! implied) And I showed her a photo of Furry Creature.

Which apparently was the perfect antidote. Femullet didn't know what to say or do. Even she was bored with her own joke. She shut up. She didn't smack her companion. I checked out and beat a hasty retreat out of the store and ducked around a corner and sped home.

Another day, another opposite and void of emotion victory.

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9:58 PM

 
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