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:

Otherwise, hello, and welcome.
Mail Trillian here<

Trillian McMillian
Trillian McMillian
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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
Enter ZIP Code:

or Search by State

Find State Officials
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or Search by State

Contact The Media
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or Search by State

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.)



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11/17/13 12/1/13 - 12/8/13 12/15/13 - 12/22/13 12/29/13 - 1/5/14 6/29/14 - 7/6/14 9/14/14 - 9/21/14 9/21/14 - 9/28/14 10/12/14 - 10/19/14 11/23/14 - 11/30/14 12/7/14 - 12/14/14 12/28/14 - 1/4/15 1/25/15 - 2/1/15 2/8/15 - 2/15/15 2/22/15 - 3/1/15 3/8/15 - 3/15/15 3/15/15 - 3/22/15 3/22/15 - 3/29/15 4/12/15 - 4/19/15 4/19/15 - 4/26/15 5/3/15 - 5/10/15 5/17/15 - 5/24/15 5/24/15 - 5/31/15 6/14/15 - 6/21/15 6/28/15 - 7/5/15 7/5/15 - 7/12/15 7/19/15 - 7/26/15 8/16/15 - 8/23/15 11/6/16 - 11/13/16 6/24/18 - 7/1/18

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


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?!)


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.


Kii Arens

Tim Biskup

Jeff Soto


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

Tuesday, March 23, 2010  
One minute I was 27, a newly promoted art director dating a guitarist in a bona fide signed rock band. I had a great apartment in a great city, a decent car, loads of interesting friends, a gallery interested in showing some of my art, and I traveled to far off places every chance I got. The next minute I found myself standing at a bus stop on a bitterly cold night, in an increasingly craptastic city, unemployed, about to lose my home, no friends who understand me or my life, and a dwarf humping my leg.

What the Hell happened?

Really. What the swutting Hell happened to me?

Think it's time for a little re-evaluation of where things went wrong? Is it possible to get them back to right?

Or should I just roll with it?

I mean, it's not every night a girl gets humped by a dwarf. Oh, sorry, "little person." I don't mean to be politically incorrect or offend anyone. Though I think once a guy, any guy humps a woman's leg at a bus stop, on a first date, he relinquishes all rights to respect and politically correct vernacular. I mean, a guy should at least wait for the third date to hump a woman's leg at a bus stop, right? Or am I old fashioned, prudish?

Never in my wildest 27-year-old dreams could I have imagined, even heavily imbibed and guffawing with friends, that I'd go to bed, you know, me and the next morning I'd wake up, you know, me now. With a dwarf humping my leg. At a bus stop.

I kind of feel like Freaky Friday. If I can figure out how it happened, when the switch occurred, I can undo whatever it was and resume my life. Maybe a little wiser, but back in my life.

Well. My life minus that rock star boyfriend. He turned out to be totally wrong for me. And that job turned out to be a pain in the rear end and the gallery offer was only because the gallery owner wanted to get to know my boyfriend. But the apartment was nice. The car was decent. My friends were great. And the travel was inspiring.

So. Yeah. How the heck do I get back where I started, undo whatever was done so as to avoid ending up on a date with a leg humping dwarf? Sorry. Leg humping "little person."

I suppose we need to back track, right? Isn't that how it's done? Start now and back track, review what I did in an effort to glean a detail or two that I missed when I was on my way here.

The humping dwarf. (Which, if I ever make it out of this nightmare, is what I am going to name the bar I'm going to open. Or maybe the humping troll.) I'm up on the shelf. Collecting dust. I'm lonely, sure, but, as the Mayor of Singleton I know it's better for me (and everyone else) to be on the shelf collecting dust instead of "out there trying."

But every now and then (rarer all the time) someone will say, "Hey, Trill, I have a friend who has a friend/brother/coworker/rehab roommate you might like. You're single, he's single, what have you got to lose? No pressure, just get out, have a drink, meet someone new...and hey, you never know..." Usually I list all the things I have to lose (sexual appetite, bus fare), and have already lost (dignity, self-esteem, will to live).

Okay. So a few months ago a friend said, "Hey Trill, I have this friend. I was telling her about how you're trying to find a job. She doesn't have any job leads. But, we were talking about her job and she works with this guy, and he sounds decent, she says he's nice, funny, intelligent, professional...and I told her about you and, you know, why not just get out, have a drink, meet someone new...hey, you never know..."


"C'mon, Trill, just get out, it'll be good for you to just get out."


She mentioned him at regular intervals for the past couple months, suggesting I meet her friend's coworker and I kept saying no.

Then one day I just said, "Okay."

I dunno. Really, I dunno why. I just did.

My friend called her friend. The wheels were set in motion. A few nights later, late for my friend to call, she said, "Okay Trill, he's really interested. There's just one thing..."

Of course there is. There's always just one thing.

"...turns out he's, um..." my friend continued.

I cut her off. "Married? A registered sex offender? Dying from a terminal disease?"


"Short? That's it? Short?! That's no big deal. You know I don't care about that. Sheesh, why are we even having this conversation?"

"Because he's, um, apparently really short. And you're, you know, not. Short. You're tall. Taller than average. And with him being below average height it might be, you know, awkward."

(Oh, honey, awkward doesn't even begin to cover it. But I didn't know he was a leg humper at the time.)

"If he doesn't have an issue with taller women then I don't care."

"Okay! I thought that's what you'd say. I'll give my friend your email to give him and you two can take it from there!"

Yadda yadda yadda I found myself sitting at a bar next to a 4'8" man. (Reminder: I'm 5'11".)

Okay, you know, really, I don't care about height. Or looks in general. Intelligence, humor, kindness, sincerity...not-a-jerkness...those are the qualities in a man that I find attractive.

Unfortunately what he lacked in height he made up for in jerkness.

Okay look, I'm sure dating can't be easy for him. I know how women are. I know how people are. I feel for the guy. I understand that he might be a bit defensive or insecure or feels a need to exert his personality. I understand. So I gave huge consideration and compassion to him (a very snug Snuggie® of compassion). I overlooked some of his, erm, behaviors, gave him benefit of the doubt and a free pass on a few things.

A few things that normally would make my spine stiffen and make my "get me out of here" antennae tingle.

Like ordering for me - I mean literally taking the menu out of my hand before I had a chance to look at it and then ordering food for me. Okay, he has young children (oh yes, before you feel too sorry for the guy, know this: He's twice divorced and has three children), maybe he's just so used to being in Daddy mode that it seeps into his adult relationships. Maybe he's just so used to choosing and ordering food for his kids that he forgot that I'm actually a grown-up capable of selecting food. It's one thing for a guy to ask the woman what she'd like to order and then relay the order to the waitperson. I don't love that, but, with certain men who are truly, genuinely polite and not harboring control and domination issues, it can be, can be okay for a man to order for a woman on a date. But there's a very, very, very thin line of gray area on that one. And never, under any circumstance, is it okay for anyone to commandeer the food selection without at least asking, "Would you like to try..." or "I had x here once and it was great, you might really like it." or "Oh, that sounds interesting, do you like x?" But never, without any conversation or previous knowledge of the date's food preferences is it okay to choose and order for a date.

Fortunately my friend told her friend that I'm vegetarian so he was aware and at least thoughtful enough to choose meat-free selections.

It also should be noted, in fairness to this guy, that we were at a wine/tapas place, so the food was all small plates and mainly accompaniments to the wine flights. It wasn't as if he was ordering a full seven course meal for me.

But the thing is, this wasn't a date-date. In the couple email exchanges we had I made it very clear that my life is in serious flux at the moment and this was to be just a casual get-together, an un-date. He said he was down with that, that it would be nice to just get out for an evening. So I thought we were on the same page. When he suggested the venue I was a little concerned about the expense. I'm unemployed (which he knew) and I don't have money to go out and I certainly don't have money to go out to swanky wine/tapas places. I budgeted for two glasses of wine. The introduction of food was completely blowing my budget. A couple olives, some nuts and berries and a few bites of cheese there could easily cost more than my entire weekly grocery budget. As he rattled off the order to the waitress I was trying to guestimate the cost (because the menu had been taken away from me I had no idea what the actual cost was) and how I was going to pay for my half.

Okay, I know. I know. If the guy is going to go all "I am in control, here" and order food and drinks without even asking me what I want, then he should pay for whatever he ordered. I know. But. This was an undate. And I really wanted to pay my own way. I didn't want this guy to think I owed him anything.

Our wait person was very nice and knowledgeable. She suggested a few wines for a wine flight. The guy dismissed her completely, negated every wine she suggested and arrogantly said, "Let's keep the wine selection to the paying customers, shall we?"

I kid you not.

He chose three wines and naturally, when she poured tastes for him he made a big stinking production out of tasting them. Only one was up to his standards. (Reminder, he chose all the wines.) The wait person obliged him and graciously (far more graciously than I could have been in her situation) suggested a few other options. Which of course he didn't accept.

And then he started unabashedly flirting with another waitress helping the couple seated next to us at the bar. He asked her what her suggestions were. She suggested two of the exact wines our waitress suggested. "Okay,if you say so, let's give them a try." He lapped up her ideas and chugged down the tastes and gushed to the other waitress (not ours) about how good they were and what great suggestions they were. I kid you not. He was being all cute and cheeky and charming with the other waitress, right there in front of me. Okay, sure, I made it clear this was an undate, a casual thing and if sparks were flying between him and the other waitress who am I to care or interfere with kismet? But still. Rude.

Our waitress briefly rolled her eyes and softly asked me, "First date?"

"Meh. Kind of. A casual undate."

"Think he has any idea how incredibly badly he's blowing it with you?"


So while my undate was ignoring me and flirting with a waitress, I started up conversation with our waitress. Turns out she's training and working toward becoming a sommelier.

My undate heard the word sommelier and was pulled out of his chat-up with the other waitress. He interrupted our conversation by saying, "You can't call yourself a sommelier unless you've studied in France. Unless you go to France and learn about wine you're just a steward."

I don't use this term very often. I don't like it. At all. But when it's appropriate, well, asshole.

The waitress said, "Actually, I'm saving up to go to France this Summer."

That didn't shut him up, though. He started rattling off all the regions of France and how impossible it is to truly know them in just a few months.

And then he started flirting with the other waitress again.

You know a date is bad, really bad, when your waitress leans over and says to you, "You seem really nice. I wish I knew someone to set you up with."

Of course the food was not up to his standards and of course he asked the other waitress what she suggested to eat, of course she suggested a lot of animals, of course he ordered cow and fish and lamb small plates and made a huge stinking production about how good they smelled, how good they tasted and that vegetarians be damned, he was a carnivore.

I did the whole, "gosh will you look at the time" routine and politely excused myself.

"Yeah, I gotta get going, too," he said, which surprised me. I assumed he was going to hang around all night wooing the waitress. I was leaving not just out of boredom, but also because I felt like a third wheel on his date with the waitress.

He got the bill and I pulled out every dollar I had on me. I knew it was nowhere near enough to cover the couple glasses of wine and small plate I had but it was all the cash I had on me and far more than I can afford. In a voice and with sweeping gestures that were impossible for anyone in the restaurant to miss, he said, "Oh come on, now, you're unemployed and this was very expensive wine," patting me condescendingly on the shoulder, like, "Oh, what a cute little naive girl, you don't even realize the amount of money you gave me is insulting compared to the tally of the bill."

That's not me being overly sensitive and defensive. The couple seated next to us (who were reallllly sick of the asshole intruding on them by way of flirting with their waitress) flinched at his loud statement calling attention to my poverty and the cost of the wine.

He took the money, though. Made a very loud pronouncement that sounded like he was not going to accept my money, so the entire restaurant could hear how gallant he is, but he made no effort or move to return my money to me. I expected to get an itemized bill for what I owed him the next day.

And then he hopped down off his bar stool. And the absurdity of our height difference was blazingly obvious. We looked like a comedy sketch. I've dated shorter men. It doesn't "bother" me. And one of my friends scrapes in at just over 5'. I'm sure some people think we look "silly" when we're together, a study in extreme contrasts. But so what? I don't go around thinking about height, mine or other peoples'. I mean, why? What's the point? What difference does it make? But after the couple hours I'd just endured with this guy, and the loud attention he called to my poverty and alleged naivete, the fact that the top of his head barely reached my armpit (and unfortunately put his face smack at the underside of my boobs) was the finishing touch on yet another two hours of my life I regret spending in the pursuit of "getting out there."

So, I said my good-bye on the sidewalk. He asked how I was getting home. I gestured toward the bus stop.

What do you know, he was going to take a bus, too. We could wait together.

Oh boy. Won't that be fun.

You know how when you're on a date with someone you really like? You're having such a good time and the conversation and laughs are flowing you're and feeling so warm and gooey and connected that you don't want the night to end? And you make all sorts of lame excuses to linger with them just a little longer and you keep saying good-night and then starting to talk again, and you know you look unabashedly, shamelessly uncool in your obvious interest in your date? Yeah. I vaguely recall those kinds of dates. It's been a long, long time but I recall feeling that way once or twice.

Yeah. Well. This was the antithesis of that kind of feeling. I was really annoyed that he was taking a bus and that I'd have to endure one more second with this guy.

We walked the few yards to bus stop. There were a couple women, a few years older and a few drinks drunker than me waiting in the covered bus stop. My "date" and I took places a few feet away from them. He made comments about the cold and how he couldn't wait to get to (name of exclusive resort) in St. Baarts in a few weeks. (Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that, the guy does travel a lot, I know this because I endured a lot of information about the far off resorts he likes to visit every couple of months.) You know, people might say, "Whooo, boy, I've had it with Winter, I cannot wait for vacation!" You know, that's a normal thing to say. But this guy is the kind of person who makes a pointed effort to drop names of places and things. Everything is mentioned, pointedly, affectedly, by it's full place or brand name. Status, and status products, really matter to this guy and he wants to be sure everyone knows he has status and buys status products. (Yet he, ahem, rides the bus. Just sayin'. Observing. Reporting.)

Yeah. Not the guy for me. Obviously.

So, finally he saw his bus at the light a few blocks away.

He said, "Ah, there comes my chariot. It's been great, really nice to meet you, let's do this again soon."

What? Huh? Did I miss something? Were we on the same undate? What part of it was great? The part where he wouldn't let me choose and order my own drinks and food? The part where he ignored me and flirted with the waitress? The part where he embarrassed me for not having enough money to pay for my drinks and food (that he chose and ordered)?

And then, oh crap, then it happened.

He reached his arms around my waist, stuck his head in my boobs and "hugged" me. Given our height difference I can excuse the face-in-boob. I mean, there's no way for him to hug me while we're both standing without him getting a face full of boob.


What can be avoided is him straddling my thigh while leaning into the hug and then, well, mashing his penis into my lower thigh. And I mean mashing it into me to the point that I can make an informed guess at what religion he is. I suspect he wanted me to know, leave me with the parting "thought," that he's height challenged but he's big where it counts. The possibility exists that this was just an unfortunate happenstance of our relative heights. I'd be willing to give him the benefit of that doubt were it not for the fact that he straddled my thigh and hugged me a little too long. And swayed his hips as he tightened his grip around my waist.

You heard me.

The man swayed. He swayed his penis into my thigh.

And then his bus arrived and he blew me a kiss and boarded the bus.

As the bus pulled away the two women giggled. One of them, the louder, drunker one, blurted out, "OH MY GAWWWD!!! Was he HUMPING YOUR LEG??!!!!"

Lady, you took the words right out of my mouth.

I just sighed and said, "I think so. I want to give him the benefit of the doubt but if it was obvious to me and you then, yeah, he was probably humping my leg."

She guffawed, "I thought he was your son, a little kid at first but then when I saw him going at your thigh I realized he's an adult."

The other woman said to me, "Blind date?"

"Obviously," I said, with a sisterly knowing tone.

"Come on over here and sit down. You came to the right bus stop. We've both been divorced longer than we were married. Men. Assholes."

"I mean, my GAWWWWWD, I know he can't help it but can't he at least pick on someone his own size?" the drunker and louder of the two commiserated with me.

I mean, you know, it was nice that I had these two women as witnesses and that we could bond over a thigh humping dwarf, and I'm grateful for the timing, that they were there.

But. I mean. I can't help but think it's time to re-evaluate my life's choices.

But wait, there's more.

My friend called to ask how the date went. I told her merely that he didn't seem interested in me because he spent a lot of time chatting up a waitress. I did ask her what she thought about the whole ordering issue and she agreed with me. She feels more strongly about than I do. She labeled him a control freak and arrogant pig because of it.

Then a couple days later I got an email from him. He told me we were going to dinner Friday night. That's right, he didn't ask me, he told me he made reservations for dinner Friday night and that I should "wear something nice."



I know I should be flattered, excited, even, that a guy wants to go out with me on a second date. Or, undate, or whatever it is, but, um, huh?

And what's with the presumption and commanding? What about asking or politely suggesting, or even coyly hinting about going out again? What about asking if I have plans Friday night? I mean, there are all manner of ways to broach the topic of a second date, none of them include presuming the person is free, wants to go out with you and just forging ahead and making a dinner reservation.

I tried to think of anything I might have done or said to indicate that I wanted to see him again. I'm still coming up with nothing.

I truly did have plans (I know, shocking) and so I said, "Thanks for asking (think he'll get the sarcasm?), but I have plans Friday night and some friends coming into town Saturday. And I think right now, what with my job and life situation, it's just better if I keep my focus on employment and keeping a roof over my head. I'm just not in a good place emotionally right now."

Does that sound legit? I mean, at the worst I'm letting him down easy, right? And that's not even it, what I wrote is completely true. Even if he were Mr. Perfect for Me, now is not the time for me to be embarking on a romantic entanglement. My life is a complete and utter mess.

Well, of course he didn't take it in the spirit in which it was intended and told his friend that I'm a shallow, superficial bitch and no wonder I'm single because I had a chance with a great guy but I was too hung up on appearances to get past his physical shortcomings.

Turns out he's not a dwarf. He's a troll.

His friend told my friend what he said about me, my friend defended me and relayed the ordering and flirting behaviors, her friend said he would never behave that way, refuting my account of the undate, and now my friend and her friend are all pouty and testy with each other.

And I feel bad about it. My friend tried to do something nice for me, introduce me to someone new, it backfired, badly, and now she has a friend all pouty and mad at her. The "blame" here is of course on the humping dwarf/troll, but my friend's friend has to work with the guy (I think he might even be her boss) so the high road is obvious: Keep my mouth shut about the horrible other behaviors (and humping) and hope my friend and her friend get over it and resume their friendship.

Meanwhile, I need to backtrack and figure out where and when I screwed up my life so badly that it would end up at a bus stop with two drunk women and a dwarf humping my thigh.

11:23 AM

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