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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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

 
Sunday, December 13, 2009  
I'm used to being single. So used to it I don't really think about it that much. I mean, I think about being lonely. I am lonely, and that's a by-product of being single. So I guess technically I do think about being single...but, you know, for the most part I've accepted that I am going to be alone, single, partner-less, man-less, single. That doesn't mean I like it, or that I don't get lonely, but, I accept it. Try to deal with it.

But.

Crimony.

What is it about December that makes it seem like everyone, and I mean everyone on the planet is in a relationship except me? It's bad enough that the marketing machine goes into high gear and pulls out all the merry, merry, happy, happy romance and merriness stops. It's impossible to watch television without being accosted by happy! happy! couples exchanging gifts and kisses under the mistletoe and hooking up over a cocktail at a party and buying cars/diamonds/cashmere sweaters/something-from-the-Gap for each other. (This year's Gap holiday ad: Help me understand. I need a translation.) Okay, fine, I won't watch television in December. No problem. Really. Not a problem.

Last year I was still in a weird state of griefshock when the holidays rolled around. I missed my dad too much and was too concerned for my mother to care about all the happy! happy! couples everywhere. And I had a legit reason for declining most of the party invites. I just couldn't do it. I just could not celebrate anything last year. I navigated through the holiday season focused on work and "being there" for my mother. I lapsed into a robotic numbness. And the occasional booze-induced brain-deadness.

This year the holiday reality is crashing down hard on me. They say the first year is the worst but so far this second holiday season isn't easier than last year. I miss my dad. My mother misses my dad. She's sad. I'm sad. I'm sad that she's sad. She's sad that I'm sad. I'm lonely. She's lonely. I wouldn't wish loneliness on anyone and it's unfathomably upsetting to know my mother is now experiencing loneliness. It all sucks.

Doesn't seem to be getting easier to me.

The cemetery where my dad is buried is an old fashioned one with giant obelisks, ornately carved monuments and lots of angels in repose. It's a small town cemetery, and like the small town, everyone knows everyone else, and everyone elses' business, at the cemetery. Last year we put a wreath at the grave. My mother couldn't bear the ordeal so I ended up doing it on my own. I wouldn't have gone through with it, but my mother felt pressured by social decorum to do something, so my dad had a wreath. And yes, given my dad's passion for celebrating Jesus' birth with a house and yard lighting display, that wreath seemed inadequate and kinda lame. Especially when compared to all the other holiday decorations at the cemetery. The neighbors in the plot across from my parents' brought in two fancy potted topiary bedecked with red velvet ribbons. The people in the graves next door had those eternal flame candle things with their wreaths. Our lame little wreath looked pathetic in comparison. Oh yes. Social pressure, even at the cemetery. So. This year I found a solar light-up snowman (nice, not tacky) and put it at the cemetery for him. It seems more appropriate for a guy known for his prowess with holiday lights and a staple gun. We got this evergreen and pine cone thing, too. Our appearances are officially being kept up at the cemetery. Someone at my mum's church took note and complimented my mother on the nice job we did at my dad's grave this year. I kid you not. I'm tellin' you, it's a really, really small town.

When we went to the cemetery I took a walk around. Cemeteries don't creep me out, especially that one. It's actually quite a pleasant place, lots of trees, a pond, some interesting sculpture. One of my mother's friends had knee surgery and wasn't up to putting the wreaths on her family graves this year so I volunteered to do it for her. Their family goes waaaaay back. Many generations represented at their plot. All neat and orderly lined up, generations of couples buried side-by-side.

Crimony. Even at the cemetery everyone's coupled up. Even among dead people I'm the only single person.

Realistically I know there are other single people out there, there must be. But. Where are they? (and where are they buried?) Where do "we" go during December? I cower inside as much as possible, but, I do have to go out for groceries and the occasional errand. And there are a few social obligations where you have to at least make an appearance. Surely I'm not the only single person who dares to step out in public in December.

One good thing about being unemployed: No horrendous office holiday party. Big woo hoo to that. I'm celebrating that I don't have to "celebrate" the holidays with my former coworkers this year. No potluck luncheons, no grab-bag or secret Santa gift exchange, barrage of lame light-up holiday sweaters and ties, no coworkers drinking too much at the holiday party...really, there are good things about being unemployed. I know, I know, that sounds so Grinchy. But c'mon, really, do you honestly enjoy your company/office holiday party?

My former company often had a holiday party where "guests" were invited. "Guests" meant spouse, same sex partner or serious boy/girlfriend. You didn't bring a friend or a rent-a-date. You just didn't. It was an unspoken rule that only "serious" dates were allowed. My first year there I nearly committed a fatal holiday party sin by taking the "guest" invite literally. I was going to bring a guest, a friend, to the party. Fortunately my friend came down with a horrible stomach virus so I went solo. That's when I learned about the unspoken "serious" guests only rule. Whew. Thank goodness for that stomach flu. So the few of us singles were forced to either sit at a singles table or force our way into a table of couples, thus creating an empty seat at the table. On more than one occasion I was given the stink eye and even comments over daring to sit, unaccompanied, at a non-singles table. "You're going to sit here? With us? That'll leave an empty chair." (How rude! implied.) As if that explained everything. That'll leave an empty chair. Oh, right. Okay. We can't have that. Silly me. What was I thinking? Ultimately I found it easier, less humiliating, less obvious, to just head straight to a singles table and deal with Lester the Star Wars geek from finance who for fun like Yoda talks, yes, and the weird woman who worked the night shift in the call center who takes her crochet projects everywhere she goes, even the holiday party. I'm tellin' ya, being unemployed does have its upside. And not having to endure an evening at a singles table at the company party is near the top of the list.

But even though I'm not going to work-related events, or even attending that many holiday parties with friends, I'm being affronted with happy! happy! couples everywhere.

I assume all the smart single people are hiding indoors until January 3. But I dunno. It seems like they'd have to go out for groceries or the post office or something. But maybe not. Maybe other single people have perfected their holiday strategy. (Home delivery for groceries. Stock up on stamps in October. Do online shopping and shipping. Turn down all party invites. Take the entire month of December off work.) Because they're certainly not anywhere I've been.

I'm happy for other people who are in a happy! couple situation. Really. I'm happy! for them. Sure, envious, too, but more in a curious way than a green-eyed monster way. (Envicurious, I call it. Curiosity borne of envy. You see someone doing or in possession of something you want, which makes you ponder, "How'd they do/get that?" Envicurious. Why is that not already a word?) I just wish they'd take it down a notch in December instead of turning it up. Some of them are just arrogantly, callously flaunting it. "Look at me! Look at us! We're a happy! happy! couple during the holidays, just like a jewelry commercial on TV!!" Yes, we're all so impressed. And look at me! I'm a spinster buying store brand cereal and something reputed to be an antacid cheaper than the leading national brand. Hey, at least I'm no longer buying cat food. I miss the furry creature but at times like those grocery store moments in line with nothing but happy! happy! couples, I'm glad I'm not buying cat food and Lean Cuisines. Been there, done that, saw the pointing fingers and heard the snickered whispers.

And then this year Bono is wailing all over the place. "Tonight thank God it's them instead of you..." and "Baby please come home, baby please come home." How can we put an end to Bonomas? I was out for all of 45 minutes today and I heard him twice. Once in the grocery and once at Walgreen's. I'm going to start keeping track. I swear there's something going on, it's Bono, Bono, Bono wailing everywhere I go. Is 2009 the year of the Very Bono Christmas? Is this some attempt to make the holiday less frivolous because of all the bad news? Like I said, I'm glad I haven't been tortured with McCartney's Christmas thing chirping annoyingly all over town, but Bonomas is taking it a bit too far. Things are bad, the economy sucks, unemployment rages on, foreclosures rates are still soaring, Afghanistan...yes, things are bad. And the last thing any of us want to hear is that weirdoannoying "wonderful Christmastime" ditty. But. Bono making us feel guilty or sad and lonely isn't the anecdote. Haven't we suffered enough? Aren't we suffering enough? It's putting me in an even worse mood about the holidays. I know. I'm in a really bad mood about Bono lately. I'm tellin' you, it's the whole Bonomas thing. It's gettin' to me. I don't want to be in a bad mood about Bono but the wailing must end. Accept. Forgive. Heal. Peace. Love. Duh.

What we need is an island. A place for single people to go during December. No couples (or Bono) allowed. Or better still, another planet, in another galaxy, a place where singles can roam freely and watch television without being affronted by happy! happy! couples flaunting their happy! happy! coupledom at innocent lonely single people.

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10:26 PM

 
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