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

 
Friday, February 12, 2010  
So, here’s another good thing about unemployment: Not being subjected to the squeals and ooos and ahhhhhs of flowers, candygrams, balloons, plush toy hearts with outstretched arms and kissy lips proclaiming “I love you THIS much!” or plush teddy bears proclaiming “I love you BEARY much!” arriving at the office all day long. And better still, no dealing with the stench of wilting roses in the office after Valentine’s Day. No being surrounded by gifts borne of guilt, social pressure, significant other pressure, futile hopes, desperation and in a few cases, love.

I’m not Jewish so I probably shouldn’t make this assumption, but my guess is that being single in a coupled-up office on Valentine’s Day is like being Jewish on Christmas. Everyone’s all hopped up high on expectant or hopeful hormones waiting for the delivery of some special sign of affection. Just like Christmas. Office cubicles are decorated, red sweaters and festive jewelry are worn. Just like Christmas. Specially decorated treats are brought in – cookies, muffins, donuts, cupcakes, fancy chocolate – all with red frosting sugary décor. Just like Christmas. Some hopes will be disappointingly dashed when no delivery is made, and others will be shocked and surprised by an unexpected show of affection. Just like Christmas. At the very least unsingle people know they’ll go home to the object of their affection and share a bottle of wine, a cuddle, or at the very least won’t eat dinner alone. Just like Christmas. The single person without any prospects knows there will be no delivery for them and they know the evening will be spent like every other evening: nothing special and very much alone and not part of the holiday revelry going on in homes and restaurants across the world. Just like Jewish people on Christmas.

Once I made that connection I started feeling a lot better about Valentine’s Day. I know plenty of Jewish people who enjoy Christmas day. They have their own family traditions or personal rituals they do while the Christian world celebrates Christmas. They may not believe in Jesus but that doesn’t mean they have to feel bad or alone on Christmas day. A few years ago I took a cue from my Jewish friends who spend Christmas day sleeping in late, watching movies, baking cookies, and taking a day off from life. That’s all well and good except that I had to go to work and be confronted with my singleness all day long.

This year, thanks to being laid off, I don’t have to have my singleness thrown in my face. No affronts with roses, candygrams, cuddly toys, and whatever else shows up at the office as a gesture of affection. I can lounge around on my own reclusively hidden away from the romance and marketing hype aimed at couples. (Speaking of marketing hype, have you seen the lamest diamond commercial ever? Someone got paid to produce that embarrassingly smarmy crap? It’s a pulp romance novel cover come to life. However, props to the inadvertent creepiness of the commercial. Weren’t we just talking about slasher movies?)

I have my movie viewing all lined up, some treats ready for the oven and some in-home spa goodies ready to pamper myself. And this year I don’t have to face the world of couples celebrating their love – sincerely or out of guilt and obligation – in the office place. I can spend the day, heck, the whole weekend, alone, cut off from the world of romantic couples. All because I’m unemployed. A nice unforeseen benefit of being laid off.

I know it might seem sad, like an old lady left alone and neglected. But I’m okay with that. It beats the alternative: Navigating a world of couples as a lonely single person.

The thing is, I don’t even care about Valentine’s Day! Even when I was in relationships I found the whole thing a stupid, arcane and forced overmarketed holiday perpetuated by businesses looking to cash in on our most vulnerable weak spot: Love. So it’s not as if I even care about not getting flowers or wined and dined or feeling obligated to don some ridiculous uncomfortable lingerie and perform an impossibly acrobatic Cirque du Sexual (or Sex du Soleil). What matters to me is a genuine, healthy, loving relationship on all the days of the year other than Valentine’s Day.

What bugs me about Valentine’s Day is that it calls attention to single people. It’s supposed to be about love and romance and happy couples, but in celebrating couples in love it makes the singles stand out all the more. We’re conspicuous by omission.

Well, not this year, not me!

I’ve been savoring my 2010 Valentine’s Day victory for a few weeks. The whole merchandising send-up used to fill me with dread. But not this year. This year I scoff at the hearty displays and shoot daggers right back at all those Cupid cherubs strewn about town. “Har har, you don’t scare me! I’m unemployed! I don’t have to deal with you in the office this year! This year no one will know or care that no flowers or candy are delivered to me. This year no one will know or care that I’m home, alone, watching documentaries on the industrial revolution! Ha! Take that, cherubic little Cupid cut-out!”

Then it occurred to me that this is the perfect year to take it a step farther. I’m going to be my own Valentine. I’m going to vow to love me, all day. Shower myself with praise and affection. For one whole day, 24 hours, nothing but self love. And no, I’m not talking about onanism (although…without the pressure of special Cirque du Sexual bedroom gymnastics…). I’m talking about being kind to myself. Treating myself the way I would treat a significant other. Treating myself the way I would want a significant other to treat me. Nothing over the top, just the usual things that I think a lot of couples take for granted.

Tell myself good morning and maybe even a tender I love you upon waking. (Instead of waking up alone, again, and crying because I’m waking up alone, again.) Put the biggest and plumpest blueberries on my cereal. (Instead of denying myself the “good” fruit.) Write myself a short note of praise for a few small things like how I’m supportive of other people or the funny way I air guitar to AC/DC. (Instead of criticizing myself for not being smart enough, clever enough, pretty enough, and generally not good enough to succeed in life.) Look in the mirror longer and for reasons other than applying lipstick and remind myself that my eyes are an incredibly rare and beautiful color and that I have a warm smile. (instead of hastily avoiding mirrors and telling myself my hips and thighs are repugnant, that I’m too tall, too pale, too scarred, too broad shouldered and the rest of me is ghastly and citing all the insults and rejection I’ve heard from men and catty remarks from other women). I’ll wear my favorite comfy jeans and soft, well-worn t-shirt and genuinely not care that the jeans are baggy in the ass and the t-shirt is a little too unflatteringly tight in the boobs. (okay, I’ve been doing this a lot lately, maybe too much…) Treat myself to carrot cake from the fancy bakery and savor it, enjoy it without thinking about the calories, fat grams and lack of nutritional value. I’ll enjoy a good bottle of wine from a good wine glass. (Instead of buying the cheapest bottle and using a cheap water glass, forsaking the good wine glasses for “special” company.) And banish all negative self-talk and heap on copious amounts of reminders of my good qualities, things that someone else should find desirable and endearing. (Instead of taking to heart all the criticism and negative remarks hurled at me.)

I always intend to do this. It’s my Valentine’s Day battle strategy. But it always fizzles out by the third flower delivery in the office. This year, though, there is no office, no endless deliveries of love to other people to thwart and derail my plan by making me feel conspicuous by omission. I can focus undivided, undiverted attention on myself. This year I’m actually looking forward to Valentine’s Day.

And the biggest, best part of the plan: Think of all the people I love and who love me. And all the people I like and who like me. I am worthy of love and I am loved. No, I don’t have the one special significant other kind of love, but, I have lots of other love. Call them, email them tell them I love them and why they’re special to me. Give lots of love instead of feeling bad about not getting one special love.

And why stop there? I love animals. Take the $5 I’d spend on a card for a significant other and donate it to the ASPCA. I love the Great Lakes and live on Lake Michigan so instead of penning love letters to a significant other, I’m going to spend time on Valentine’s Day writing my elected officials voicing concerns and ideas about the Asian Carp issue. I love kids so instead of making baked goods for a significant other I’m going to donate time on a non-profit homework tutoring site helping kids learn how to read. I love art so instead of making a sexy home video for a significant other I’m going to box up new and barely used art supplies and to send to an after school program that helps special needs kids tap into their creative talents.

Yeah, it’s very ‘70s hippie idealism but not all hippie idealism is oversimplified drivel. And it’s better to expend positive energy than negative. Now that I’m free of the workplace affront of Valentine’s Day I’m totally free of the reminders of my very single status. No peer pressure from office mean girls is going to chink away at my armor of resolve this year. So there’s nothing bashing my ego and heart around, nothing and no one to remind me that I’m an abysmal failure at love, and nothing to trip up my positive plans for combating Valentine’s Day as a very-far-up-on-the-shelf-collecting-dust singleton.

And now, for you, yes, you, a very special Valentine’s Day message of love. You, yes you, reading this blog, are my special, kind, clever funny Valentine. I love you more than the THIS much of the plush heart with the arms and kissy lips. I know. I know. That’s a whole lotta love. Probably more than you need so why not pass some of it on to someone else?

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6:10 PM

 
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