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, May 21, 2008  
We’re all friends here, right? We can talk openly and maturely about adult topics, right? The conventional taboos don’t apply to us, right? We can speak openly and freely without fear of retribution or judgment, right?

I was talking with a friend the other night, you know, just chatting, when she said something which concerned me. It was just an offhand remark, not aimed at me, just a comment in passing sort of thing. I thought she and I were, you know, pretty similar in most ways, fairly evenly matched in adult experiences. I’m sure she assumed the same about me. So when the subject of “numbers” came up I didn’t feel, you know, ashamed or worried. I kind of thought her number was probably higher than mine. But then she scoffed at people who have really high “numbers” and she started throwing out what she deemed as high “numbers” for people our age, implying some sort of failing on the part of those with high “numbers” and what it says about their lives and inadequacies and that they should do something about it rather than let it to continue to increase to what she deemed staggering numbers.

What concerned me was the numbers she was throwing around as high were in the range, mostly lower, than my number.

I honestly didn’t think I was, you know, well, you know.

I always thought that I’m on the low end, I mean, there’ve been some pretty long, lean years without much activity.

But of course the number is debatable depending on what you consider “real” activity. There are gray areas. In some instances you don’t really have to do much of anything to accumulate points. Heck, one really good, long holiday weekend can add a lot of digits to the tally if you count everything from flirting seductively over cocktails to nights in hotel rooms.

I used to be embarrassed because I thought my number was low to the point of significance compared to other people my age. Suddenly I’m now embarrassed to admit my number because it’s apparently quite high for someone my age. What’s normal? What’s acceptable? Is there a point, a limit, where you just stop because of the social implications? If you give it away, you know, for “charity” does that count?

I timidly approached the subject with a different friend, one with whom I’ve discussed more intimate issue. She was surprised at my number. “Wow, Trill. Wow. I mean, I kind of figured you had a lot, but not that many. That’s up there with my husband’s number. Before we were married he used to go to Thailand a lot for work.”

“Great. So I’m up there with your husband.”

“You’ve always been like one of the guys, Trill. (har har) There’s nothing to be ashamed of but you’re not getting any younger…”

I thought the sexual revolution was years ago, I thought the differences and double standards were a thing of the past. But on the rare occasions I go to our special club, I’m always surprised to see very few women. Surely I’m not the only woman with elite status. Surely the Boys’ Club mentality is joke from a bygone era.

I have a ton of frequent flyer miles. A ton. Apparently a staggeringly high number. Apparently most people don’t let them accumulate to this point without cashing them in and taking a vacation. (which I believe is the point of frequent flyer programs)

And it’s not just on one airline. Yes.

I’ve been indiscriminant. I’m so experienced with so many different airlines that it’s reached the point that I’m embarrassed to admit my number.

Gotta say, I didn’t see that one coming. Seems like just yesterday I was just flying on whatever flight I could get or afford, not paying attention to the miles I was putting on the old Trill odometer.

Ah, youth.

Then I started traveling a lot for work. We had two preferred airlines so I was always on one airline or the other. After a couple of long distance trips schlepping all over the country it just made sense to “get something” in return. My company let me “keep” “my” air miles so I thought, you know, why not?

Yadda yadda yadda, one thing led to another credit card with mile rewards and then a long term, transAtlantic long distance relationship and then a grocery store seduced me with miles bonuses on my purchases… and now I’ve got a bazillion air miles on two major and two minor airlines.

This isn’t exactly a problem, right? Right. And wrong. I’m on the verge of bankruptcy, living week to week in limbo about whether or not I have a job, and here I sit with a bazillion air miles.

Metaphorically all dressed up with nowhere to go.

Don’t get me wrong – I’ve got a five page list of places I’d like to visit. And I have the air miles to take me to almost all of those places.

But.

Then. I’d get there and then what? I’m guessing it’s kind of difficult to buy dinner with air miles in Katmandu.

So I’m thinking about donating them for charity. Or just letting them accumulate to an ever higher number. But then there’s the embarrassment of having a bazillion unused air miles. What’s the shame in that, you ask?

My friend’s right: People accumulate air miles for a reason. To use them to travel, to go on vacations, to fund some fun. There’s a point where a high mileage total is just kind of weird and a huge indication of a very sad life full of promise but apparently no hope. It’s like having a ton of money in the bank and never doing anything fun, just letting the balance increase and never enjoying it or even sharing it. What’s the point of that? I don’t want to be that sad, pathetic uncharitable person.

Funny, it’s not something I ever gave much thought until my dad had a heart attack. Stupid American Airlines tried to rape me by charging me 50K miles + $150 for a 30 minute flight. I didn’t really care about the miles, “whatever, I have plenty to spare” was my thought at the time, but the principle of them taking advantage of me in a time of personal crisis bothered me. Apparently that’s why they call their frequent flyer program American Advantage. I paid for the ticket. And earned more air miles.

There’s an irony in this. My dad used to travel a lot for work. His company did not allow him to “keep” his air miles. His “number” would have been ridiculously high, too. His number was high just from personal travel. He and my mother both had elite status on a few airlines. For a while there they were in this funny range where they’d use miles for a trip, then turn around and go somewhere and have another earned ticket so they’d go somewhere on their air miles, then go somewhere else, then have another earned ticket. See? That’s how you’re supposed to do it. That’s the point. That’s making the program work for you.

I’m sure my parents have no idea what my number is. And I don’t want them to know. It would embarrass them. It would make them feel sad for me. They’d worry about their parenting skills. Where did they go wrong? What did they do to me that made me end up with such a staggeringly high number? Surely no daughter of theirs’ would end up like this. They’d implore me to do something about it, take control and stop the insanity.

I’m still really angry at the way American treated me when my dad was in a major health crisis. (Did I ever tell you that we had to make a decision about letting him go peacefully or using heroic measures? Yeah. That was a rough, rough couple of days.) So I’m thinking about donating all my American air miles to a charity. Sure, it absolves them of giving me flights, but it puts pressure on them to pony up and do my bidding. Because of me they’ll have to help someone else. I don’t like to force altruism, but since American doesn’t give a rat’s whisker about compassion and customer service forcing altruism on them seems like an apt lesson. Score one for universal karma wheel.

4:02 PM

 
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