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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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, June 01, 2011  
Like a gazillion other women, I saw Bridesmaids. Yes, it is very funny.

But it's also very, very sad for us Annies (Kriten Wiig's character) of the world who didn't have the touching, "nothing will change, we'll always be best friends" touching climatic end scene with our "Lillian" (Maya Rudolph's bridal character). But the reality most of us Annies face when our friends get married is not the sort feel-good ending so popular at the cineplex. Typically people see movies to escape their reality, not confirm it. Hence Hollywood endings. Terms of Endearment, Beaches, Leaving Las Vegas...good movies, but, yeesh, not exactly feel-good escapes from reality.

I've been Annie in three BFF scenarios. Two turned out okay. Eventually. But one, well, the one that is the most difficult for me is ironically the one that mirrors the Bridesmaids story line. Almost exactly. My friend from childhood are still friends, but...since she got married let's just say we don't have a lot in common. Were it not for the fact that we've known each other since we played in our infant playpens together it would be difficult to ascertain that we are anything more than casual acquaintances. It's not her, it's not me, it's just life.

In much the same way Lillian (Maya Rudolph's character) married up and out of her roots and early career, my "Lillian" married well, as they say at the country clubs where she now belongs. Our cheap booze and 2-4-1 pizza nights with movie rentals ended exactly four weeks after she became betrothed. I knew her cousins and her friends from college and grad school, and I like them, got along with them. I assumed those women would be in the wedding, and, since I knew and liked them, I wasn't dreading the showers, bachelorette parties and whatever else I'd be subjected to during my "Lillian's" engagement and nuptials.

I was wrong. So very, very wrong.

My "Lillian" had moved to a large city (as had I) but we still saw each other frequently - visited each other and saw each other when we visited our parents in our home town. We planned our visits "home" to coincide. So we were still very much part of each others' lives and knew, or heard about, each others' friends.

I'd met her boyfriend-fiance-husband. I knew his family was wealthy, but I didn't realize how wealthy until my "Lillian" showed me The Ring. The four carat princess cut ring. That was the first clue that my "Lillian" was marrying money, real money. As the wedding plans took shape, it was abundantly clear that my "Lillian" was marrying into the sort of family spends a lot of money on big houses in exclusive neighborhoods, long term memberships in elite private country/golf/yacht/equestrian clubs and private villas in Tuscany. To say this guy is "connected" is gross understatement. I wasn't awestruck but I was a little surprised because my "Lillian" never liked pompous displays of wealth and her betrothed's family were not shy about showing off the trappings of their wealth. That was the first time "My Friend and Our Friendship are About to Change Forever and Not in a Good Way" antennae tingled. (No, the rock didn't tip me off because I know some men buy enormous engagement rings because they think that's what they're supposed to do, or they think it's what their girlfriend wants. I thought he just went a little overboard out of ignorance.) But, the guy seemed so down-to-earth and so enviro/socially conscience I thought, "well, just because this is where he's from and how he was raised doesn't mean he's unaware or that he can't eschew the lifestyle."

And then my "Lillian" introduced me to her new friend Suzanne. My "Lillian" met Suzanne while volunteering on a charity auction. And then Suzanne introduced my "Lillian" to her cousin, sparks flew, yadda yadda yadda my "Lillian" was about to marry Suzanne's cousin. And Suzanne was intoxicated by her matchmaking skills and her new friend/cousin. Suzanne started calling my "Lillian" "Cuzzie" and sometimes "Cuzzie Wuzzie." Pre-engagement, this would have triggered my "Lillian's" gag reflex. My "Lillian" would have quickly, sarcastically, either verbally berated Suzanne or, if feeling charitable, my "Lillian" would have taken the high road, politely smiled and then spent the next four hours laughing and mocking and berating her to me. But now, post-engagement and pre-wedding, my "Lillian" seemed perfectly okay with being called "Cuzzie Wuzzie" and attending luncheons and high teas with Suzanne at expensive hotels and private clubs. My friend mentioned Suzanne a few times, in passing, and I was vaguely aware that she introduced my "Lillian" to her fiance. But until I visited my "Lillian" shortly after the engagement I had no idea how much time she and Suzanne spent together and how close they were.

To this day I am not clear what surprised me more: that my "Lillian" could be such good friends with someone like Suzanne, or how easily she fell into the horsey set, the country club lifestyle. I truly did not think my "Lillian" had it in her, but there she was, navigating "that" social world as if she were born in it. (For the record, she was not. Pre-engagement, pre-Suzanne, the closest she came to any of that was that she rode horses at Girl Scout camp and had a Lilly Pulitzer skirt she found at a thrift store and wore to a Halloween party.)

Suzanne did not appear to like me from day one. And that's not just me being jealous or paranoid. In fact, I wasn't the one who picked up on her animosity toward me. I thought she was just loathe to anyone who didn't belong to her country clubs or private yacht excursions to Nantucket or Palm Beach or wherever the smart set yachted to those days. I thought she looked disdainfully down her nose at everyone, I didn't think I was special or singled out until at one of the showers (there were many), one of my "Lillian's" college friends remarked, "Wow, Suzanne isn't doing anything to cover up her jealousy, is she? I don't think it's possible for someone to be more chilly than she is to you without getting frostbite." 

I chose to take the high road and assumed all was well, that my "Lillian's" college friend just misinterpreted Suzanne's general snobby haughtiness for targeted jealousy. So, even as the plans for the wedding began unfolding and my "Lillian" was more often merely informing me of what had already been decided by her and Suzanne than asking my opinion or advice, I wasn't upset or feeling left out. Still a little surprised at the posh direction the wedding was taking, but not upset.

I should probably mention that we were not the type of little girls who spent hours planning our dream weddings and playing bride. We were more the adventure play type of kids, accomplishing daring feats of skill and acrobatics on the swingset and forging trails in the woods and seeing how long we could hold our breath under water. And working on endless Girl Scout merit badges. Occasionally, though, we talked about weddings, but more about being married than the actual wedding. We both were called into flower girl duty a few times and we would report back, post-wedding, about the details and what we liked and didn't like about weddings (cake: yes. uncomfortable shoes and ugly dress: no) As we got older, my friend and traded our flower girl duty for bridesmaid duty, and, as ever, we reported back and compared notes about what we liked and didn't like about the wedding. At the time of her engagement she was definitely leaning toward elopement or small ceremony on a beach. But then, just like that, there she was planning a huge, 400 guest wedding at a swanky country club that required strings being pulled to be used as a venue, even by longstanding members.

Once, just one time, when my "Lillian" was giving me the weekly recital of the litany of plans she and Suzanne made, I said, "So I guess the elopement or small beach ceremony is off?"

Instead of laughing at herself as she would have done in days of yore, she all seriously said, "You'll find out when you get engaged, you realize you get this one opportunity to celebrate your love in this very public way, you want to do it right, with elegance and details, so you don't look back and wish you would have done this or that. Big weddings make it real, something concrete, give you something to remember. If you elope or have a small ceremony, there's nothing real about it, it's just a vacation."

And with that I realized my "Lillian" had changed. Drastically. That's the day I knew we were drifting. That's the day I look back to and mark as the day I should have kicked her in the ass with a reality check. But I didn't, I was too sure that she was just in some bridal euphoria and that my old, normal, sane, emotionally mature friend would return after the wedding. That was my speak now or forever hold your peace moment. Unfortunately I didn't realize it at the time. And I have forever held my peace.

I held my peace when Suzanne chose the dresses us bridesmaids would wear (an odd shade of blue, a weird length and fit, unflattering to all the bridesmaids except Suzanne and insanely expensive due to their designer pedigree). I held my peace when Suzanne chose to have the main bridal shower in, I kid you not, Bermuda (and held my peace when my "Lillian" didn't understand why none of her relatives and most of her friends didn't attend). I held my peace when Suzanne implored my "Lillian" to have a St. Tropez bachelorette party (which, fortunately, didn't happen, but a lavish Vegas one did happen). I held my peace when Suzanne convinced my "Lillian" that more flowers is always better and insisted on handling the cake details as a surprise for my "Lillian's" wedding. I even held my peace when my "Lillian" called to tell me I didn't need to bother to visit for dress shopping because she and Suzanne had already found the perfect one. I could change my next planned visit for a later date and come to a fitting. And I especially held my peace when the other bridesmaids started to more be more verbal in their disdain for the ridiculous turn the wedding was taking. A lot of fuck her and fuck it were entering into the bridesmaid vernacular. I tried to be a bridge to diplomacy between bridesmaids and bride/Suzanne. And that's how I came to think of my "Lillian." Bride/Suzanne.

The wedding was lovely. A bit over the top, but lovely. My "Lillian" and her husband are happily married with two kids (who attend private schools), two homes (one regular, one vacation) a yacht (they use once a year), two country club memberships (one golf, one horse/tennis), several globe-spanning vacations, and lots of time with his family including Suzanne and her husband and two kids who are, not coincidentally, the exact ages of my "Lillian's" kids. They planned the timing of their pregnancies. I kid you not.

One month after the wedding Suzanne's chilliness toward me turned to blatant catty disrespect. The jibes about my singleness, my career, my lifestyle, my everything, became the subject of Suzanne's "jokes." On the rare occasions we occupy the same vicinity she refers to me, addresses me and introduces me as Lillian's "Little friend from childhood." She drips the words with dismissive affect made increasingly poignant (read: pathetic) by the facts that I am still unmarried, childless, and barely scraping by financially.

I don't wish I had the thousands of dollars I spent on my "Lillian's" wedding. Sure, it would be nice to have that money, it would pay at least four months of my mortgage. But my "Lillian" still looks back on her wedding fondly, so it's worth every penny I had to beg, borrow and hock to finagle.

But. 

Occasionally I wonder if my "Lillian" remembers what a financial hardship her engagement and wedding was to me (and to the other bridesmaids). She acknowledged it at the time, she  prefaced every plan with, "If it's too expensive, if you can't afford it, just say so, I'll pay your way or tell Suzanne we want something different." Sometimes (rarely), I, speaking for us bridesmaids, stood up for our finances and requested something less expensive. And my "Lillian"/Suzanne would acquiesce...and then use their submission as ammunition against us during the next round of engagement duty. "We didn't go with the Jimmy Choo sandals, so we're going with the matching hair styles." "We didn't go with the trip to St. Tropez, so we're going to Vegas instead." Fun times. I should note that the original bridal party was to included four bridesmaids. One dropped out half-way through the engagement due to expenses, so Suzanne called one of her friends into duty, someone my "Lillian" or her husband-to-be barely knew. But I wonder, now, if she remembers the expense, the huge expense and sacrifices us bridesmaids made for her. I think not.

Because my "Lillian" called a few days ago to tell me how funny the movie Bridesmaids is. I had already seen it, and yes, enjoyed it but not for the same scenes, same reasons she did. She was laughing over several of the scenes, apparently completely oblivious that for me, the scenes she found so hilarious are not madcap comedy sketches. They are a documentary re-enactment of some of the most emotionally and financially draining moments I've endured in the name of friendship - during her engagement and wedding. 

What I learned from this is that I highly, highly recommend that any bridesmaid who cannot comfortably manage the financial strain of bridesmaid duty should have a very frank conversation with the bride and just bow out of the role. If the bride is truly your friend she a) won't hate you and b) will probably appreciate your candor and honesty. I would endure most of it again for the sake of my "Lillian." But after that experience I was not shy about declining invitations to be a bridesmaid. I did walk down the aisle again, several times (I've tallied a lifetime total of 13 trips down the aisle but have never been married). But the friendship between myself and the person getting married, requesting my help, honor, financial obligation...is evaluated thoroughly before I accept the "invitation." And every time I've declined (yes, it's awkward) the bride (and on a few occasions, groom) has been very understanding and completely okay with my declining their invitation. I make it very, very clear that I'm not refusing them. ("It's not you, it's me.") I'm just not in a good personal financial place and things are stressful at work, and can't take on any more commitments of time and finances. I make it clear I'm happy to help, do leg work, decorating, whatever, and that I'm very happy and excited for them. This needs to be made abundantly clear and repeated often. And do as you promised: Show up for the showers, show up to help decorate or pick Aunt Mitzy up from the airport, whatever you can do that won't set you back emotionally or financially will be appreciated. And you'll avoid feeling resentful or angry at your friend, the bride or groom. In many cases you're not letting down your friend, you're saving the friendship.

And here's the wedding post-script and further reading about what happens when the wedding is over and the friends now have to deal with the friendship post-engagement/wedding.

When my "Lillian's" father's illness took a turn for the worse a few years ago, she and her husband and kids were vacationing with Suzanne and her family (they do this a lot, vacation together). I happened to be visiting my parents and stopped by to say hello to my "Lillian's" parents. Her mother told me her dad was not doing well and Hospice had been called. I visited with her dad for a couple hours, he recalled and laughed over some stories of the dumb stuff my "Lillian" and I did when we were little girls. I called my "Lillian" and told her I thought she might want to get home, her dad was not well.  I heard Suzanne's loud laugh in the background. It seemed so cruelly incongruous to the scene I'd just left at my "Lillian's" parents' house. My "Lillian" didn't drop everything and rush to her father's deathbed. He hung on in Hospice for a couple weeks. She had time to get there, without even having to end her vacation early. But she didn't.

If we were still the kind of friends we were pre-engagement I would have probed her, dug deep for her to talk about why she wasn't there for him, and help her through the whole thing. Or maybe kick her ass back into reality. Because my "Lillian" never would have abandoned her father and certainly would feel bad, even guilty, for not rushing to be with him when he was dying. But my "Lillian" is not the person she was before she was engaged and married, pre-Suzanne.

I'm not jealous of my "Lillian," of her Suzanne, or their friendship or the kind of life they live. It's not me and not who I want to be.

And since her father's death I'm not surprised by anything my "Lillian" does, or more usually, does not do.

Every now and then we talk, and it's usually perfunctory, cordial. But sometimes, when she's had a glass or two of wine, she forgets who she is, now, and shows some hints of who she was, then, and I remember why we were friends and why I continue to forever hold my peace.

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3:14 PM

 
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