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

 
Monday, February 12, 2007  
It’s raining, it’s pouring...

From the, you have to laugh or you’d kill yourself department...

I was mugged while apartment hunting.

I’m okay, sort of, due to huge bruise and cuts on my knee I look like Nancy Kerrigan after the Tonya Harding attack, and another blow to my diminishing faith in humanity, but okay.

She, yes, she didn’t get anything other than my license, $7, a lipstick, a pen and a few scraps of paper with phone numbers and addresses of potential apartments.

The details of the whole thing are so stupid it’s not worth the effort to discuss. It was 1:00 on a Sunday afternoon in a busy and “nice” part of town. Well. I know it’s not as nice as the real estate and retail establishment in the area would like everyone to believe. I know it’s not as “nice” as it appears because I used to live there.

Yes. Yes. Okay? Yes. I was considering moving back to the old ‘hood. I’m desperate and there was a moderately priced apartment available.

I don’t believe in signs from the Universe. I don’t believe in luck, good or bad. But. Even I cannot deny the loud and clear message in this. I moved out of the neighborhood because I was attacked, beaten and mugged. Two years later I’m forced to move so I go back to the old ‘hood to look at an apartment and I got mugged. Okay, Universe, okay, I hear you, loud and clear. Don’t move back there.

What really surprised me about this one (cracks me up the way I say that so casually, “this one” as opposed to all the other ones) is that there was a woman involved. Someone tripped me from behind as I exited a store. I fell. A woman who was talking on her cell phone saw me fall and came over to “help” me as I tried to stand up and figure out what the heck happened, and who tripped me. “I saw him! I saw him!” She yelled as the (apparent) attacker ran away. “Are you okay?” she asked as she came toward me.

Before I could answer, and as I was just getting back on my feet, she shoved her gloved hand in my face, grabbed my bag and ran.

Now, I’m not saying I don’t think women are capable of crime, violent crime or thievery. However, the fact that a woman would stoop so low as to employ the sisterhood “are you okay?” and then use it for bad purposes really, really bothers me. Us chicks understand how sacred our purses are. Most of us look out for each other’s purses, even if we don’t know each other. It’s just a thing we do, imprinted in our DNA is the sacred bond of the purse. Any woman, even a friend or sister, will steal, I mean “borrow” your boyfriend, your new top, your best shoes...but very few women would break the trust and bond of the purse.

What I find interesting is that out of all the other women coming in and out of that store and walking around that neighborhood, I was probably the most lowbrow in terms of value of my purse and looking like I might have a lot of money and high limit credit cards in that purse. I was also among the tallest and surely had the most, “don’t mess with me” attitude. Even the cops who appeared in seconds said I certainly wasn’t asking for it. One motioned to a woman dressed very expensively, wearing an iPod walking along with a cell phone in one hand and barely clutching her designer purse between two shopping bags in the other. “She’s asking for it,” the cop said. And I agree. And I don’t trounce around like that because I am street smart. But apparently not street smart enough to avoid this altogether.

Fortunately, street smart enough to not carry credit cards, checks or more than a few dollars in cash in my purse - my purse I paid all of $6 for three years ago. Smart enough to carry my keys, cell phone and transit pass in zipped coat pockets. Smart enough to get every detail about this woman’s appearance. But not smart enough to avoid the whole thing altogether.

The cops said this couple has been doing this all over the neighborhood for a few months. They strike on weekends during prime shopping times, mid-afternoon.

As he was explaining this to me, my phone rang. It was the landlord of the apartment I was on my way to view before I was so rudely interrupted.

I said, “Sorry, I’m running late, I got mugged on my way there...”

The guy didn’t skip a beat, just very matter of factly said, “You still wanna see the place?”

No, “Gosh, I’m sorry.” No, “Really? That’s horrible!” No, “OMG, where were you?” No, “Are you okay?” None of that from this obviously neighborhood wise landlord. Just, “you still wanna see the place?”

No. I told him no.

I don’t believe in signs or fate or any of that. But. The “great” neighborhood is still having the same problems it’s had for since before I moved from there. Gentrification makes everyone who isn’t a thug, drug dealer or prostitute a target of crime perpetrated by thugs, drug addicts and pimps.

So, bruised, battered, $7 poorer and one police report richer, my quest for a home I can afford continues.

1:51 PM

 
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