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.
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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

 
Monday, March 14, 2011  
 Open Apology to Japan

Sometimes I have huge regrets about my youth. Some of what was formed in my formative years has proved to be...well...difficult. I'm not blaming anyone, especially not my parents. Sure, I suppose they could have been a little more, oh, I dunno, judicious about my television viewing. But, I mean, it was just a lunkhead moose and a flying squirrel, how were they to know most of what I knew about Russia and the Cold War I learned from Boris and Natasha? So much so that until I was 10 or 11 I kind of didn't understand all the hullabaloo over Russia, I mean, how could we be afraid of bumbling, inept people who talked funny and carried around big black balls with a sparkler on the end labeled in big white letters, "BOMB?"

In the '80s, when MTV arrived and brought with it music videos themed around Cold War apocalypse I didn't understand why so much fear-based imagery was used. "We're talking about people who go around trying to catch moose and squirrel with a giant sparking black ball clearly labeled 'BOMB' for crying out loud."

I watched an '80s music video rewind thing a few weeks ago (don't ask). It made me remember why I hated the '80s. I forgot how many music videos tried to be über political by portraying war, evil dictators, something sorrowful related to East Germany or grim post apocalyptic life. Were we really that scared in the '80s? I remember, now, why the Pixies were such a big stinking deal to me. There was a lot of really, really, really bad music but the same could be said for any decade. There's just a lot of really, really, really bad music out there. But what made it worse in the '80s was the self-important, way over-the-top apocalyptic videos. Apparently every band producing music in the '80s was heavily influenced by one of two movies: Mad Max (Road Warrior) or Das Boot. I happen to like both of those movies but not so much so that I want every band producing a music video to allude to or blatantly copy themes and imagery from them.

But I digress and that's my point: Sometimes I regret my youth. 

Sure, I can't be faulted for the content of what was shown on television. And as I said, my parents are not to blame. Considering "the times" I was not allowed to watch much television. Compared to other kids I knew, my parents were very strict about what and how much television I watched.

Unfortunately, now, though, I realize the relatively small amount of '80s MTV is the least of my concerns.

As the horrific news and images emerge from Japan I read and watch in horror and sorrow.

And  I realize, with much embarrassing, shameful regret,  I watched way, way, way too many Godzilla movies as a kid.

Because as the tragedy unfolds in Japan, and I read and watch in overwhelming horror and sorrow, there's a synapse in my brain that fires this formula: Japan + Natural Disaster ÷ Nuclear or Atomic Accident = Fire Breathing Monster in Tokyo Bay.

So along with the overwhelming sadness, shock, horror, compassion and ineptitude, I feel equally ashamed.

I'm sorry, Japan. But really, at its core it speaks to a level of love and respect. Those Godzilla movies gave me a lot more than after school and Saturday afternoon entertainment. They provided limitless bonding with my much older brother, who is responsible for introducing me to the franchise at a very early age. In fact, I can't remember life without Godzilla movies. My brother used to babysit me and I am certain even as a toddler he passed the time stuck watching me parked in front of the television watching Godzilla movies.

Godzilla also gave me an in with the older kids in the school yard. There was this one boy, a huge bullying brute of a kid, who was the menace of recess. He was so mean and so much bigger than the other kids that he was called Godzilla. He wasn't in my class and didn't live near me so I never knew his real name. He just went by Godzilla. Godzilla (the child bully) used to torture younger, smaller kids, especially the dorky ones, by chasing them to the tether ball pole and forcing the weaker, smaller kid to play tether ball with him. A rite of passage at my school was getting a broken nose or black eye by "playing" tether ball with Godzilla. Godzilla victimized boys and girls equally. One thing you can say about Godzilla (the child bully) is that he didn't discriminate.

Of course, eventually, it was my turn to be Godzilla's victim. I put up a good chase, I used The Monkey Bar diversion followed by a Reverse Slide Run-up, but even my wily tactics couldn't save me from tether ball with Godzilla. So, as he stood there, chained ball hoisted in one of his be-mittened paws (yes, Godzilla wore mittens), ready to slam the chained ball at my face, I looked up at him and said, "Did you watch Godzilla versus Mothra yesterday?"

I'd like to say I was so intellectually and emotionally superior to Godzilla (the child bully) that this was a cunning show of strategic wit and manipulation. But it wasn't. I was such a stupid dork that I honestly assumed that if Godzilla (the child bully) watched Godzilla movies he surely watched Mothra the day before, and he would surely have an opinion on Mothra.

And oh yes, indeed, he did. He started talking about the "surprise" ending with the two larvae, and his grip on the tether ball loosened.

Realizing I might be able to get him talking long enough to evade death by tether ball, summoning all my courage and confidence, I brought up Oodako. And that launched what would become known in our lunchroom as The Gamera Debate.

Godzilla and I stood there, my face to his belly, him holding the chained tether ball in his be-mittened paw, me in my purple snow boots, with the tether ball pole between us. We spent the remaining recess debating Godzilla v. Gamera, volleying movie knowledge punches at each other.

I was so into the discussion that I didn't realize a crowd of kids had formed. Undoubtedly they initially came to watch the daily tether ball beating. There was a core group of kids who turned out daily to watch another of Godzilla's victims fall. But the group was larger that day. Word of something unusual happening at the tether ball spread lightening fast from the monkey bars to the swings to the roundabout. Fairly quickly the "will he slam the tether ball in her face or not" speculation gave way to "whose side are you on? Godzilla (the Japanese monster and the child bully) or Gamera (the Japanese monster and me)." Yes. Sides were being taken. And then the recess bell rang and the crowd dispersed.

I successfully evaded a tether ball beating from Godzilla. I have two claims to school yard fame, but that is by far the most heralded. I always thought it deserved a plaque. "This tether ball court is the site where a dorky little girl escaped injury inflicted by the great child bully 'Godzilla.'"

The lessons are endless. Know your enemy. Find common ground. Know your Godzilla trivia.

It would be cute and nice to say Godzilla and I became friends. We did not. It would be even nicer to say Godzilla never bullied or attacked another kid again. He did. Routinely. And when other kids tried my approach "Talk about Godzilla movies!" he was not swayed. That tactic worked once. And only once. I was lucky. I was the first to stumble across his weak spot. After that he didn't succumb to such an easy ruse.

But. He had enough respect for me that he didn't bully me ever again, which is really the best I could possibly want.

So, see? I have warm, fuzzy, good feelings about the Godzilla (and other Japanese monster) movie franchise. I've never really bragged about my Japanese monster past, but I've never been ashamed of it, either.

But now...now I regret it.

So. I'm sorry, Japan.

I don't mean to manifest images of Mothra, Rodan, Oodaka, Godzilla and Gamera every time they show an image of the smoking reactor with the ocean in the background. I really don't mean to do it. And I feel horrible, just really awful that for a flicker of a second my brain superimposes those monsters into the images shown on television. It's not at all funny and I am appalled that I am capable of such a shameful thing. I'm doing everything I can to deprogram my brain and I am hopeful repeated readings of The Pearl Diver will override the monsters in my brain.

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