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

 
Tuesday, November 28, 2006  
I like words. A lot of words are in my head. Most of them serve a purpose. Most of them are good. Some of them are funny. Some of them are crude. Some of them are spelled weird. Some of them sound weird. I am assaulted by thousands of them every day. I don’t like all of them. In fact I don’t like quite a lot of them. Some of them are vulgar or mean. But they serve a purpose and have a place in vocabulary – not to be written or spoken, but to be understood so that when I read or hear those words I know the person who wrote or spoke them is probably someone I want to avoid. Communication rocks.

But. Never, ever, does that word occupy space in my head. And I don’t think I’m too unusual in that regard. At least I’ve always given the benefit of doubt to most other people in that regard.

Which is why I’ve never understood why it’s “okay” for some people to use the word. I have firmly maintained that it’s never okay to use that word. It bothers me when anyone uses it. Not in a shock value kind of bother. Not in a humorous kind of bother. Not in a “this makes me uncomfortable in my white skin” kind of bother. In a “this is offensive and degrading and completely inappropriate” kind of bother.

But then again I am a white girl from the suburbs. I was raised and taught to understand why the “N” word is profanity most foul, even worse than the “F” word. Because rather than being offensive and crude to everyone, the “N” word offends and denigrates specific people for a specific reasons. Anyone who uses the word is perpetuating wrong, hurtful and disgusting slander against every person of that race, past and present. It’s a vile, vulgar, sickening word.

And now, thanks to Michael Richards, “we” have been given our vocabulary marching orders from Jesse Jackson. No more use of the “N” word.

I’m hoping, really, deeply hoping Jesse’s plea reaches the right ears because I’ve been suffering in silence over this issue for quite a while. Well, not total silence, I've talked about it with my friends who happen to be of the race at the butt of the offensive word, and they hate it, too. So I've been confused as to exactly who thinks it's "okay" and even "funny" or "artistic" to use it and hear it. I have heard the arguments, been to the stand-up comedians’ shows, listened to the lyrics, tried to get my mind around the “cultural justification” of it and come up empty every time. I finally assumed it’s because I’m a nice white girl from the suburbs with deeply entrenched beliefs about that word and why it’s so awful and therefore I can never understand why “sometimes” it’s “okay” for certain people to use it. So I’m hugely relieved that there’s a public plea from Jesse regarding use of the word.

Unfortunately there’s a big opportunity missed, though. As long as we’re teaching ethics, etiquette and cultural awareness, and modifying behaviors, Jesse could have banned a few other words, too.

Since Jesse’s a man maybe it simply didn’t occur to him that a few other offensive words are often bandied about by comedians and rappers.

Or maybe it’s okay to offend an entire gender of people as long as you keep the racial slander out of it.

I’m hoping Michael Richards has another anger management meltdown and calls women bitches and ‘hos. Then he can go to the person in charge of women and apologize and then a public plea can be made to stop using those terms, too.

I’m not sure who’s in charge of us women. I guess it’s probably Gloria Steinem. But for all her feminist groundwork I’ve felt she’s a bit out of touch with those of us gals a few generations under her shadow. Hmmm. Now that I give it some thought, I don’t know who Michael Richards would use to send his message of apology if he were to publicly offend women. Hilary Clinton? I hope not. Oprah!? Noprah. Rosie? Madonna? Tyra? No. No. No. Huh. I’m a woman and I have absolutely no idea who our public “voice” is.

So I’ll pick up the slack left by Jesse and start the request on behalf of my gender. No more “N” word. Check. Rock on and roger that.

And.

Boys? Fellas? Guys? Dudes? Strike these from your vocabulary, too:

No more “B” word. No more “’Ho” word.

Most of us are not bitches and very few of us are whores. There’s no humor, nothing cute, nothing except degradation and disrespect in those words. I know, I know, those girls in the videos on BET don’t seem to mind, but they should. I’m sure they won’t mind if those words are no longer in the vernacular. I know, I know, Paris and Nicole perpetuated the “affectionate” use of the “B” word. Right. I think I’ve just made my point with that sentence.

We’re all clear on this, now, right? No “N” word. No “B” word. No “’Ho” word.

Oh. And. No more ending sentences with at.

9:29 AM

 
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