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 24, 2010  
So, I didn't get the shelf stocking job.

I'm not surprised but I am disappointed, humiliated, insulted and depressed. I can't even get a part time job stocking grocery shelves on the midnight shift.

And.

Either a teenager, a woman who can't speak English or a drug dealer got the job instead of me.

That's where the humility kicks me in the gut. No, I don't think I'm better than them. (Okay, I'm not dealing drugs, and in the eyes of the law that makes me not a criminal so technically I guess I am better than the drug dealer.) We all wanted that job and we all had unique qualifications. Their unique qualifications were what the store wanted. My unique qualifications were not as pertinent as theirs and so I didn't get the job. My education and professional experience are not relevant enough to get me a part time job stocking shelves on the night shift. Ouch. That awareness hurts.

Sure, I'm overqualified for the job. I understand that. But I am reliable and hard working and I can read and speak English and I am not engaged in criminal activity (yet, anyway, give another month or two...).

Sure, my desperation is probably palpable and the specter of my broken dreams follows me around like a long afternoon shadow. I try to keep the desperation and disillusionment locked away under the kitchen sink and only let them out at night. But I've caught them wafting around me when I venture out into the world. I hope they're not detectable to naked human eyes other than mine, but, they leave a tell-tale vapor trail on my face that no amount of make-up can hide. Even if, if I do a good job with my attitude and concealer the vapor trail stains my job application. Between the lines detailing the degrees and years of professional experience and now the months of blank space, there's a filmy sludge from the vapor trail that spells out: Desperation and broken dreams.

And sure, it's obvious I would quit as soon as I get a full-time day job. But since when is stocking grocery store shelves a long-term career opportunity? Does anyone stay at that job very long? Isn't it a given that no one takes a part-time midnight shift shelf stocking job as a serious long-term career opportunity? So does it matter that I'm overqualified and will leave as soon as I get a full-time job?

Apparently the answer to that is: Yes.

Brain Bias. Overqualified people not getting jobs because they're "too smart" or "too experienced" for the job. We're seen as either a threat to the existing manager or not taken as serious candidates because we'll leave when we get a "real" job.

Brain Bias bugs me. I don't see that shelf stocking job as beneath me and if it earns a paycheck, well, that's as real as a job needs to be.

Here's the bottom line fact: That part-time job combined with another one or two part-time jobs could keep me going, keep a roof over my head, pay my mortgage. The ideal solution is a full-time job, of course, but until that happens I'm edging closer to foreclosure and homelessness. There aren't a lot of full-time jobs available. But there are a lot of part-time jobs. Two or three part-time jobs would pay my mortgage. Instead I'm deemed overqualified, not a viable candidate. Brain bias. Because of brain bias the "smart girl" with the fancy college degrees and all that professional work experience is edging closer to homelessness.

Consequently the insinuation that I don't consider stocking grocery shelves as a real job is insulting.

And that funk that's stinking up the place, the one that's the by-product of the desperation and broken dreams stored too close together, is lurking around more, lately. Like storing ammonia and bleach too close together, you're playing Russian roulette. Nothing might happen, if there's proper ventilation and they're not brought out at the same time...or...you might die. That combined vaporous funk self-righteously flaunts itself and taunts me. "Ha ha, I'm just a vaporous funk now, but just you wait. I'm growing denser, wider and smellier. Thought you could avoid me, did you? Well, listen here, girlie, no one loses a job and avoids me. It's not possible. Desperation and broken dreams always result in depression when they're combined. You run along and delude yourself, apply for jobs and try to sell more of your stuff, and hey, why not put your soul up for bid on eBay while you're at it? That'll buy you a month of mortgage payment if you're lucky. I'll be here wafting around. You'll succumb to me sooner or later. Desperation and broken dreams always give way to depression."

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4:08 PM

 
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