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

 
Saturday, November 15, 2008  
Have you seen the movie 27 Dresses?

I didn't see it at the theater. I didn't want to see it.

It seemed like the sort of forced, contrived chick flick I don't usually enjoy.

But some of my friends have started to love forced, contrived chick flicks. Yes. These are the same friends who now like Lifetime.

I don't know when it happened. One day my friends were the kinds of women who read the Wall Street Journal, trade publications and non-fiction books for their professions, and used vacation days to go to in-depth courses pertaining to their jobs. We had long discussions about politics, religion, the environment, our place in the world and our responsibility to make it a better place. We didn't just talk. We brainstormed ideas, launched plans, got involved. For fun we went to concerts and movies. We liked to go to small (usually grimy) clubs to hear new bands. We saw bands whose music we liked, good music, meaningful music, music with depth, music that mattered. Not the slick, overproduced cute front-man bands at the arenas and cool clubs. When we went to movies we chose indie releases. Moves that mattered. Movies that made us think. Movies that explored concepts. Movies with great art direction. And subtitles. Yes. Often they were pretentious or reaching or affected or just stupid. (Hint: Just because a movie is French with subtitles doesn't automatically qualify it as important or art.) But. We liked stepping away from the pabulum that the big production houses served up as entertainment. We liked seeing actors other than the media-darling cookie cutters Hollywood flaunts as hot, new, young or popular. We liked seeing movies which were not financed via megaconglomerate corporations. We liked seeing movies that were something other than vehicles for selling products, clothes, cars, actors...

One by one those friends got married. And bought condos. And started having children. And quit their jobs. And moved to suburbs.

And the next day their interests changed. They stopped caring about their professions. The careers they spent years in college studying for and years working, striving and enjoying were abandoned and forgotten. These were smart women. I mean, they are smart women. Magna and summa cum laudes. Most have advanced (masters or above) degrees from top tier universities. They had big ideas, big aspirations for their lives - they were going to take on the world and change it. And yes, they did. They've impacted and changed the world by populating it with new people. In a few cases I know parenthood is just a hiatus - they will one day return to work and impact the world in ways other than producing new people.

But. In a lot of cases the women openly admit they have no intention of ever returning to work. Like alcoholics they swear they could stop being stay at home moms whenever they want. But when I talk about something in my life, a work related issue, they shudder and say things like, "I am so glad I don't have to put up with that sort of stuff anymore. I could never stand all the stress anymore."

The brainstorming and hard work on charities has been replaced with organizing PTA fundraisers, bake sales and family vacations.

Along with stopping their careers, they stopped going to concerts. They lost interest in music altogether. They became those people we said we'd never be: The people who stop listening to music in a certain year. And henceforth in their lives listen only to music recorded prior to that year. I call this the Whitesnake Phenomenon. Or the REO Phenomenon. Depending on the age/era of the person in question. Those bands also stopped exploring new music, but because of some fans also stuck in a time warp, they exist and even thrive on their moment of popularity. They would be forgotten were it not for the legions of people who stopped listening to music the year they were popular. (This phenomenon also explains why you still see acid wash jeans, flannel shirts, and mullets. And not to be confused with The Pink Floyd Syndrome wherein some victims (usually male) stopped listening to new music in 1978, but many new victims are still claimed on college campuses annually. Boys go into college listening to all kinds of music, and graduate fixated on Pink Floyd. It's sad, really.) My friends used to laugh at The Whitesnake Phenomenon. And now they're suffering from The Gin Blossoms Phenomenon. They started reading books they heard about on Oprah!. Wait. They watch Oprah!? Yep. They started watching Oprah!. They read Parents magazine. They "don't have time" to read national newspapers but devour the lifestyle section of the local newspapers. They love the parenting and marriage advice columns. They watch Lifetime. And. They like formulaic, contrived, always-a-happy ending, "romantic" chick flicks featuring the popular actress du jour and a couple random good looking men.

Consequently in recent years I started to dismiss most of their movie recommendations. Every now and then, on the increasingly rare occasions they have time and desire to see a movie in the evening or on a weekend (the only time I can go to a movie because I have a job which requires me to work during the days Monday - Friday (and often weekends)) they want to see chick-flicks. Lame, predictable chick-flicks. I go because I want to spend time with my friends, not because I want to see the movies they want to see. But. When they recommend a movie to me I just smile and nod like I'm trying to be polite to someone whose language I don't speak.

That's how I feel most of the time: I don't speak their language. They're foreigners to me.

When one-by-one they sent me emails telling me I had to see 27 Dresses I just hit delete.

Why so much prodding for this particular movie?

My "number."

Apparently I have an above average "number." They tell me the average woman's "number" is three, but I recall reading a survey saying the average "number" for normal, healthy women has increased to five.

My "number" is 13.

Which is 14 less than 27. But still on the high side for times down the aisle as a bridesmaid.

If I include flower girl duty and obligatory sibling wedding party participation I've logged 19 trips down the aisle. But I don't count those. Being a flower girl is the first base of wedding party participation, and siblings' weddings are like second base.

Oh, I saw the ads for 27 Dresses. I was aware of it. I knew the premise. And yes, I did chuckle at the idea.

But when my friends started sending emails saying, "OMG! You could have written that! It's a movie about you...well...except you haven't found a great guy yet,” I felt that familiar tug at my heart. I’m single. I have no boyfriend and no prospects. I haven’t even had a good date in, well, a long time. My friends’ lives are moving forward in the usual progression. Mine is not.

Thanks, pals. Twist that knife in my heart, why dontcha.

Married women, I'm talking to you. Once and for all: Single women know they're single. Single women do not need reminders that they're single from married friends.

I shunned 27 Dresses even more vehemently that I shun other chick-flick recommendations.

And then a ton of really awful stuff happened and I didn't see any movies for several months.

My condo assessment includes satellite tv. I have a bunch of movie channels. I rarely watch them. Not because I'm a movie snob. But. They do show a lot of 27 Dresses types of movies.

So. I had my first weekend home in a long time. I vowed I would do all the things I've been putting off since I've been helping my mother every weekend. The dishes piled in the sink would be washed. Groceries, real food would be procured. The pile of magazines and catalogs would be sorted and recycled. Summer clothes would be put in storage. Friday and Saturday nights would be spent on the couch with facial treatments, glasses of wine, magazines and movies.

I checked the lineup on my movie channels. There staring back at me in heavy rotation was: 27 Dresses.

I was deep into my second glass of wine, feeling lonely and down anyway, so I decided to seal the deal by watching a movie sure to make me feel emotionally worse but intellectually superior. In the comfort of my home, alone, I could talk back at the tv and make fun of how insipid and insulting the plot, dialog and acting is in the movie.

And, at any point in the movie, I could simply change the channel.

27 Dresses did not disappoint. It lived up to my expectations. In fact it exceeded them. It managed to not only make single women look like sad, desperate, emotional wrecks until they meet Mr. Right and have a wonderfully romantic wedding, it also covered the single woman as conniving, manipulative, single-minded mission to get a man liars angle, too.

Yay 27 Dresses producers, directors and actors. Applause, applause.

Yes. I have been in 13 weddings. I have worn three really, truly laughable dresses (pink and/or butt bows and/or taffeta), six not awful but straight out of the "make the bride look stunning in comparison" school dresses, and four very nice "regular" dresses (which, yes, I have indeed worn again). Eleven of those dresses required special accoutrements, and all of them cost a lot more money than I could afford to spend on any garment, let alone a dress I didn't need or want. Attached to those dresses were a lot of obligations. Bridal showers. Bachelorette parties. Gifts. Plane tickets. Hotel rooms. Hair appointments. Affixing a pleasant but not show stealing smile on your face and keeping it there at all times when the bride is present. Sitting at whatever table is available - usually with the groom's bitter aunt and two of the grooms drunk fraternity buddies.

One point 27 Dresses did make was that the lead character, Jane, wasn't bitter about "being there" for her friends. She defended her friends and claimed she had fun at their weddings. (Though the flashback sequence of those "fun weddings" showed her looking like a fool, cringing with embarrassment an generally not having fun. Ahhhh. Hollywood.) Flashback sequences aside, I agree with the sentiment about "being there" for friends and having fun at their weddings.

No. I didn't have fun at all 13 weddings. I had fun at some of them. Some of them were torturous. A couple of them have become fuzzy, distant memories. Much like the brides, my friends. Interesting how, the better the friend, the more likely it is that I had fun at, and being in, her wedding.

At the happy, obvious end of 27 Dresses (spoiler alert) Jane marries the male friend who was there for her all along but she was too wrapped up being mad/jealous of the bride and/or in love with the bride's fiance that she never noticed her own Mr. Right was right there all along. I know! What a surprise ending! No, really, there is a surprise twist! All of the 27 women for whom Jane served as a bridesmaid were bridesmaids in Jane's wedding! But wait! I mean, this ending is just such a priceless surprise! They're all wearing the dresses Jane wore as a bridesmaid in their weddings! I know! I didn't see that coming, either! So cute! So funny! So sweet! So romantic! Such a happy feel good movie.

Whatever.

And here's where I sound like a bitter, resentful, jealous shrew.

Seven of the 13 women, the brides, my friends, have drifted from my life. I moved. They moved. They changed jobs. Had kids. Quit jobs. Moved. We've just fallen out of touch. It happens.

But.

If I were to get married I have no way of getting retribution. I couldn't put them in a questionable and expensive dress. I couldn't even send them an invitation to the wedding and tell them where I'm registered.

Those 13 dresses and affiliated expenses for the weddings cost me a lot of money. I agreed to participate in those weddings and therefore agreed to take on the financial responsibility. I didn't agree because I thought, "One day I'll get married and I will expect you, bride, to repay this favor." I agreed because the women were my friends. They thought enough of me to want me in their wedding or they needed a "fill in" to round out the wedding party where there were more groomsmen and ushers than bridesmaids. I thought enough of them to agree to take on the responsibility.

But 27 Dresses gave me pause for thought about this. I tallied the estimated outlay of money for each of the dresses, the affiliated expenses, the shoes, the hair, the gifts, the airfare, the hotel room expense.

Holy matrimonial expense. Sheesh.I try not to think of friends in terms of money and expenses. Or debts. But. I've had a lot of medical and unexpected expenses in the past year. The money I spent on those 13 weddings would come in really handy.

I'm not married. There is no wedding on my horizon. Those 13 women got a free-ride with me in terms of wedding expenses. They've never had to repay the favor it it's looking very unlikely that they ever will. Certainly those seven women who've drifted out of my life came out ahead in the financial aspect of our friendship. They got a bridesmaid who bought a dress she didn't like, plus accoutrements, and gave bridal shower, bachelorette and wedding gifts, and in a few of those cases, also gave baby shower presents, too. I got nothing, nothing financially in return.

I know. I know. That sounds petty. Calculating. Jealous. Bitter. And I'm not any of those things. I don't go around thinking, "They owe me." But. Ya know. Um. It would be nice if they acknowledged the unbalanced financial outlay scale. I don't have a lot of things. I bought my first home last year. I need everything. Heck, forget the usual wedding presents of china and crystal. The sort of gifts you get at a bridal shower would be really helpful for me. Some towels and sheets would be awesome. A spoon that doesn't bend when I mix cookie dough would be really helpful. Heck, while I'm dreaming, why not dream big and fantasize about an electric mixer?! Every one of those bridesmaid dresses cost more than $100. Most were over $200. Putting aside the cost of the gifts, the expenses for just one of the dresses, shoes, accoutrements, hair and travel expenses would pay for just about everything I need for my new home. If just one of those brides gave me Bed, Bath and Beyond and Lowe's giftcards totaling the amount I spent to be in her wedding I could make a nice little comfortable home for myself. Instead I make do without home goods or use hand-me-downs from my mother and stuff I've schlepped from apartment to apartment. Stuff I bought to get by with until I could afford better quality versions. Somehow I've managed to keep house without a zester. No, they're not that expensive, but make do with an olive fork I won playing a bridal shower game. It would be really nice to have real home goods. It would be nice to register at stores and have people buy exactly what I want for me.

But. Since I haven't achieved the success of finding a man to marry me, I do not deserve gifts. I understand. However. I have been a good, uncomplaining, supportive, responsible friend and bridesmaid. 13 times.

6:34 PM

 
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