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

 
Friday, March 10, 2006  
Gone in 120 Seconds
Right, so, my mother’s doing better which is really great. And that's the only thing which matters to me, you know, keeping things in perspective.

But now that I'm not camped out in ICU or racing between work and ICU, I've got some breathing space to catch up with my life.

I’m trying to focus on my life which has lacked even less than usual focus over the past two months.

Work’s work. It hasn’t changed except that it’s more nausea inducing than ever. A couple of people have become engaged to be married so there’s a lot of talk about weddings which never fails to a) annoy me and b) upset me. And someone else quit, got a great job as a VP at another company. You probably already assume this, but I’ll say it anyway, just to make myself feel even worse about myself: This person is several years younger than me, several years less qualified, and no, not bright and clever. In fact this person is kind of stupid and dull. So they should fit in really well in the executive lounge at the new place. I’m not jealous of their title, I’m jealous of the salary I’m quite certain this person is now bringing in over there at the new place. I’m jealous that they got out of my company. I’m jealous that they're moving on with their life in a positive direction. This person got married last year and they have a tiny condo and this new job will help them move into that dream house of theirs. Yeah. Good for them. Excoworker is stupid and dull and is now a VP and making a ton of money, they have two SUVs now, and house with a yard and room for all those little tax deductions they want to have.

Envy is really ugly, isn’t it?

I try to avoid it.

But.

You know.

I mean, kind of difficult to avoid it when everyone around you moves forward, onward and upward, doing all the things people do in life. Fall in love, get married, buy a house, get a promotion/better job, buy a bigger house, have children, get another better job, retire with a place to live which is paid for except taxes, be able to afford health care, you know, all the normal steps through life.

It’s all so normal that it’s not even worth mentioning. Unless you’re not moving through life like a normal person living in a developed nation, in which case if you’re not taking those steps forward through life you are considered a failure.

I finally finished my taxes. That was fun. Lessseeee. Deductions....hmmmm. Mortgage? Nope. Children? Nope. Income high enough to bother with a tax shelter or itemized deductions? Nope. Single. Zero. Single zero. Paying those mandatory federal, state and local taxes of 33.7%! Single and loving it! It’s comforting to think about how much I mean to my government on those long, lonely single zero nights. “Alone. Single. Zero. Nobody loves me, but that’s okay, it makes me more valuable to my government.”

My health insurance company loves me, too. The bills are coming in almost every day for three doctor visits, six prescriptions, two chest x-rays and an EKG. I have no idea why I had an EKG, in fact I’m really not certain I had an EKG. But the administration office at the hospital says I did, and the insurance company says I did, and insurance companies are always right, so I’ll just pay the $165, the portion of the EKG I don’t remember having not covered by my health insurance. So far the total I owe, the portions not paid by my (allegedly “very good,” “very comprehensive”) health insurance company is $485. That does not include what I paid for a co-pay on those prescriptions, $150. Asthma’s on the rise, people are being diagnosed in staggering numbers. Isn’t it interesting that the two most effective and commonly prescribed medications for asthma are not counted in health insurance “formulae” and are not available as an unbranded generic medication? I would never insinuate there’s a correlation between one of the fastest growing health issues and the price of the medication to treat it, and I know my government has nothing to do with my healthcare, so I’ll just happily pay the price of the medicine and thank the Universe for giving me a job which affords me the luxury of healthcare and the income to pay for the expenses my health insurance doesn’t cover.

We had a retirement preparation seminar at work. I don’t plan on ever retiring. I’m going to die before I’m 67 or 70 or whatever the new retirement age is, or, I’m not going to be able to afford retiring and will be working until the day I die of old age or whatever ailment I can’t afford to treat kills me. I know this. I’ve made peace with this. I’m hoping, daily, for an early death. But just in case that doesn’t happen, and just in case I got hold of some silly notion that I might not want to work until the mortician appears at my door, I decided to take the charts and pamphlets on planning for retirement.

Single. Zero. Loser. The adage that $1 million is not enough for most people to retire on is true. I did a couple of cost projections. If I stay in my compartment and the rent increases at a rate of 4 - 5% annually (normal rent increase), $1 million will cover about three and a half years of rent in my compartment by the time I’m 70. All the more reason to buy real estate! they say. True enough. I couldn’t agree more. But. How the swut is a professionally employed lower - middle -middle income single person with no dependents supposed to afford a down payment, much less even qualify for a mortgage on one salary that’s taxed at almost the highest rate when they can barely afford the cost of going to the doctor and subsequent medication? Anyone else figured out a solution to this? And by the way, I don't have a $1 million. I can see no way that I will have $1 million saved by the time I'm 67 or 70. After much going over the budget and doing my taxes, projecting cost of living expenses (rent increases, health care expenses, fed, state and local taxes) and salary increases based on the typical 2% - 4% I get as a "far exceeding, exemplary" worker, taking an extra job to put money in the ol' 401K, I'll be feeling lucky and smug if I have $200,000.00 saved by the time I'm retirement age. I'm going to have to work til the day I die anyway, so better to die sooner, not spend years working and struggling to keep a roof over my head and paying for prescriptions my health insurance doesn't cover. That's not my idea of living. It's: Work, work, try to sleep for a few hours, work, work. With a second job that'll be the routine 7 days a week. Until the day I die. Sorry. I don't think so. Not for me, thanks. The "system" doesn't work for educated professional middle incomed people who are not married. And, we get the bonus of paying a high rate of tax, taxes which are ironically used to fund housing, medical and education programs for low income citizens, taxes which are used to fund schools for children we do not have. We are penalized for getting an education and working and for not getting married and having children.

Gee, it’s great to be back to my life. I did so miss it.

“Trill, old girl,” I thought as I sat looking lovingly at my shiny new asthma inhaler, “you need more money. You need a better paying job. You need to buy real estate. You need to get married.”

“By golly, you’re right. This single zero life is going nowhere but to a homeless shelter.”

So there’s this guy. A friend of a friend. She’s been trying to get us together for a while. His long time girlfriend broke up with him last year. Our mutual friend showed him a photo of me a few months ago. He asked her for my phone number. Yadda yadda yadda, after several phone calls and postponed meetings, we finally met in person.

I thought this guy might be different. When we talked on the phone, several times, there was no awkwardness. We got each others’ sense of humor. Heck, he has a sense of humor and is, you know, a nice guy. He left me a couple of really nice messages when he found out about my mother. He sent me a couple of nice emails. So I thought, “Hey, he does seem sincere and nice and all that. He’s seen photos of me and he’s still nice to me, he’s the one who wanted my phone number after seeing a photo of me, so maybe he really is interested in me. Maybe my luck’s changing.”

Yes. I was uncharacteristically optimistic because it seemed like there was a solid reason to be optimistic.

Big mistake.

I bothered for the date. Fresh haircut and color, had MAF do my make-up. Borrowed a friend’s alluring but not overtly sexy top. Nice heels. I put real effort into it because it was a date and because I wanted to make a good impression on him. I was a little nervous, but more the excited kind of nervous than the afraid kind of nervous. He offered to take me out for an evening of fun because of what I’ve been through in the past two months. “You need a break, a night out, some fun, and I’m just the guy to give it to you,” was his actual line.

Guys, advice, please: Where in that statement is there any clue that I should not have been optimistic or excited about this date? What clue did I miss that things were not what they seemed to be on the surface? I’d really like to know because I really do not want to go through what happened next ever again.

We arranged to meet at a restaurant/bar. We arrived at the same time. We met-up on the sidewalk in front of the restaurant/bar. I recognized him from the photo our mutual friend showed me, and by the clothes he was wearing which he described to me on the phone a few hours prior to the date. We never stepped foot inside the restaurant/bar.

Because he was gone in 120 seconds.

Here’s a slow motion replay.

“(Blind Date)?” I asked as he approached the restaurant bar from the opposite direction a me. (saying his actual name, by the way)

“Yes?” he responded, somewhat surprised.

“It’s me, Trillian!”

Silence.

Pointed, scrutinizing look up and down my body, a head to toe evaluation.

“Huh. You don’t look like the photo (mutual friend) showed me,” not trying to mask his disappointment, in fact showing signs of irritation.

“Oh. Erm. Sorry? (har har)”

“I'm not attracted to you. Let's forget this ever happened and go home to salvage our evenings. We'll just tell (mutual friend who introduced us) there was no chemistry and leave it at that. 'Bye,” turns and leaves me standing there in front of the restaurant/bar as he heads the other direction, gets out his mobile phone and walks into the night.

Um.

Okay.

I’m really good at handling rejection. I’ve had a lot of it. We’re old pals, rejection and I.

His honest and up front nature is nice, I suppose. No hidden agenda, no wondering what he’s thinking.

Shallow? Superficial? A jerk? I don’t know. I didn’t think so before those 120 seconds.

We talked on the phone a lot, he seemed nice, thoughtful, considerate. He talked about the things that mattered to him and never once did he mention anything about looks. He was hurt about his last relationship which ended because his long term girlfriend didn’t want to get married and have children. He said he values intelligence and compassion and sincerity and wants to meet a woman who is those things first and foremost. He said he cared about personality in a woman because he wants to find a lifelong partner. Nothing in there about looks being top on that list. He was understanding and supportive regarding what I was going through with my mother. He respected and liked that I made my mother my priority. He kept calling me. I was not chasing this guy. He was chasing me, albeit by phone. He’s been friends with our mutual friend since college. She speaks highly of him. She’s a nice person. She is a good judge of character.

And yet "I'm not attracted to you. Let's forget this ever happened and go home to salvage our evenings. We'll just tell (mutual friend who introduced us) there was no chemistry. 'Bye."

Disappointed? You bet I am. Hurt? Not really. I was, during my long walk home. In heels. Professionally applied make up running and hair curling in the rain. I was hurt because I tried, I really made a lot of effort for him. Apart from the weariness that showed through the make-up, I looked as good as I can possibly look for a guy who seemed like he liked me. And yet, "I'm not attracted to you. Let's forget this ever happened and go home to salvage our evenings. We'll just tell (mutual friend who introduced us) there was no chemistry. 'Bye."

Humiliated? No. I've been rejected, insulted, mocked, ridiculed, teased, laughed at, and generally criticized about my looks since I was old enough to care about my looks or what anyone thought about my looks. So much so that I have no pride or dignity when it comes having criticism about my looks thrown at me. It's impossible for me to be more humiliated than I already have been. Once you have to tell people the wedding's off because you've been dumped because you're ugly humiliation becomes a way of life. Every day you're "the girl who's fiancé dumped her." So no more humiliation than normal, in fact even less by comparison to some of the other criticisms I've endured.

He was right, the best course of action regarding our mutual friend was to tell her there just wasn’t any chemistry. It’s not her fault any of this happened. I don’t want her to feel bad about it, for his sake or mine.

No big deal, right?

It was 120 seconds out of my life. Better to find out now, before I even took off my coat, rather than after an entire life has been planned and a wedding dress purchased. I should know, I had that experience, too.

But hey! Spin it positive! Turn that frown upside down! It pushed me into getting a much needed hair cut. And it gave me a free evening to finish my taxes.

Single. Zero. Single zero.

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3:42 PM

 
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