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

 
Wednesday, February 13, 2008  
The v word day is tomorrow.

I toyed with the idea of taking the day off work and hermitting myself away at home, not even opening the door to retrieve the mail, until February 15. That’s the best, or only way I can come up with to avoid the onslaught of flowers, balloons, fluffy pookie bears and whatever else is popular to disrupt offices on Valentine’s Day.

I know. I know, okay? I know. I know how that sounds.

Bitter old shrew of a spinster.

I know.

A female love Scrooge.

Maybe it’s time to throw up my arms in defeat and admit that’s what I’m becoming. A good, solid, caring, loving long term relationship remains evasive and eludes me, so I don’t want anything to do with the International Day of Marketing Love.

Not making love, marketing love. Note the difference. If other people want to pimp out their emotions, sell them for the price of a bouquet of roses and fluffy red pookie bear with devil horns, well, that’s their business.

Yes, I am cynical about Valentine’s Day. Bitter about it? No. Envious, resentful or otherwise jealous of people who are sent tokens of love and affection on this day? No. But unfortunately I am single and I do not buy into Valentine’s Day.

It’s A = B, B = C so A= C. And in this case, A = Single, B = Distaste for the International Day of Marketing Love, and C = looking like a bitter, resentful, jealous shrew of a lonely old spinster.

For the record if I had a boyfriend my choice would be that he wouldn’t buy into it, either. I like him to be enlightened and mature and agree with my point of marketing view on the whole thing. I’d like him to have enough respect for his feelings, my feelings and our relationship that he wouldn’t feel a need or pressure or obligation to pimp it out to a bouquet of roses. But, on the other hand, if he felt truly moved to do something for me on February 14, well, I mean, I’m not going to go all ungracious recipient on him.

I’ve tried it all, every coping technique. Embracing and accepting it. Making fun of it. Celebrating my singleness on it. Pretending not to notice it. One year I even weighed the pros and cons of suicide. I decided it would be cliché, and I certainly didn’t want Valentine’s Day to win and claim another lonely victim. And none of the others “work” either. There’s no ignoring it, but I can’t really accept it, either. No matter how much I hate it, no matter how much I see through the marketing hype of it, no matter how stupid and insignificant I think it is, it still calls attention to the fact that I am the only one in the office who doesn’t receive something from a partner, or the only one who doesn’t have special plans for that evening. It makes me conspicuous in the absence of flowers, pookie bears or plans for the evening. I’m singled out of a crowd of happy couples. Couples wherein the men have been threatened, hinted to, marketed to, guilted into and otherwise cajoled into “celebrating” Valentine’s Day.

I can guarantee that we’ll have a high absentee rate on Friday. Valentine’s Day is Thursday. The following Monday is a holiday. You do the math. So much for that project on a tight deadline.

Ooops, there’s Scrooge again. Send in the ghosts of Valentine’s past, present and future and then…on second thought, let’s skip the trip down memory lane.

Suffice it to say Valentine’s Day has never been good to me. I was the kid with the most creative and best looking Valentine’s Day card box. I won a prize every year for my artistically designed and crafted card box. But for all it's glorious artistic merit, it would remain almost empty by the time the Valentine's Day party got into full swing and everyone tore open their boxes to dig into their Valentine's cards from classmates. A few of my girl friends would give me a card with a kitten or Barbie on it, but that was it. My parents were very strict about this sort of thing. They made me give a Valentine to every kid in my class. And my mother would usually get the really good Valentine’s card kits, the ones with the candy you attach to the card. I had to give one to everyone. Even stupid bratty Renee. Renee teased me about this. She’d tell her posse that I was so desperate to get a Valentine I gave fancy cards to everyone. I was so embarrassed and ashamed of my measly card acquisition that I’d lie and tell my parents I left “all” of them at school. I made it sound like I had a lot. I mean, it’s a white lie, and not even really a lie, I did leave all of them at school. It’s just that “all” of them were usually only two. They were so strict about me giving everyone in my class a Valentine that I didn’t want them to know other kids didn’t do that and that their well intended lesson in altruism left me looking stupid and pathetic. I’d instead quickly swing the conversation to my triumph in the box design contest. Oh yes. Valentine’s Day is just a big decorated shoe box full of fun, isn’t it?

The present is much the same and the future’s not looking any different.

I that ghost of Valentine's Days past just haunted me, I’ll be like Scrooge and learn valuable life lessons! Take the lesson my parents instilled in me and give everyone, friend and foe, a Valentine.

Go ahead! Take the whole week off! Enjoy yourselves! Here, have a heart shaped box of chocolate, overpriced wilty roses and edible undies! God bless us, every one!





Actually, now that I think about it, the love Scrooge wouldn't be a bad idea for a Lifetime original movie. Or maybe even a cineplex hit starring Drew Barrymore. Now that the writers' strike is over maybe I should consider that possibility. What was their final deal? Quite a tidy little sum of money to churn out the pabulum they produce in the form of television and movies.





I was very tempted to take February 14 off from work and just hide in bed with a book. No internet, no mail, no television, nothing that could in any way let Valentine’s Day into my home. You know, like the Grinch tried to do with Christmas.

Yes. Not only am I love Scrooge, I’m the love Grinch.

And yes, I know the lessons from those stories. So I know it’s better to acknowledge it, accept it, and be happy for those who enjoy it. That’s enlightenment, right?

So I’m not taking the day off work. And I might even make treats for the gang at physical therapy. Yes. I intentionally scheduled a physical therapy appointment on Valentine’s Day. Hey, emotional pain, physical pain, might as well make a day of it.

What I need are some snappy come-backs for the catty remarks and sad puppy eyes I get because I don’t have anything delivered to me and no special plans for the evening.

Come-backs that don’t sound bitter and shrew-like. I don’t want to answer the question asked about me behind my back. (“What’s wrong with her? Why isn’t she married or with someone?”) A bitter or shrew-like retort would only solidify the theory that I’m a horrible, awful person no man can tolerate for more than one date. Which does actually appear to be the case, but I don’t think it’s because I’m bitter or shrew-like. At least not on the first date. All ideas for a response to the "Where's your Valentine, Trillian?" asked by one of the catty bitches in the office who know darned well I don't have anyone romantic in my life would be very welcomed. It can't sound mean or bitter or defensive, but it can't sound overly humble or pathetic, either.

So to all the singles out there, rock on, solidarity, it’ll all be over in a day or two.

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3:57 PM

 
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