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, August 26, 2011  
I get really sick of people assuming everyone from Detroit does crack and owns a gun. I try my best to laugh off the surprise/jokes/insults I get when I tell people I'm from Detroit.

Here are the top 3 responses I get when I tell people I'm from Detroit and/or Michigan:
"You're from Detroit? But, but, you're um, you're *white.*"
"You're from Detroit? Really? I never would have guessed that. You seem like such a nice girl."
"You're from Detroit? No way. You're way too intelligent and cultured. There's no way you can be from Detroit."

Men, especially, seem simultaneously repulsed and intrigued. I was recently at a drinking establishment in New York. I was seated at the bar with a few friends on my left and strangers on my right. The evening progressed, alcohol was consumed, lively banter ensued up and down the bar and with the aid of beer goggles the guy seated next to me started his "Hmmm, it's getting late and there aren't many choices left in here, I guess this one will do" pick-up routine and started to make small talk. Earlier my friends were ribbing me about the Red Wings and Tigers so he used that as his in.

"So, why the Red Wings and Tigers?"

"Because I'm from there."

Silence.

Silence.

Silence.

(Silence is the fourth most common response I get to the the "I'm from Detroit" statement. People react much the way they do at a funeral. They assume you're suffering and feel bad for you and don't know what to say to make you feel better so instead of saying something that might offend or hurt you they say nothing, thinking an awkward silence is better than an awkward comment.)

Finally, after I thought he thought better of his flirtation he said,

"Detroit, wow. So do you own a gun?" He may have been joking but only partially. I've heard this enough to know that when someone asks this, even in jest, there's a tiny part of them that thinks it's possible that I own (or should own) a gun.

I gave him one of my usual responses:

"Detroit's in the Midwest, not the Wild West."

And that's when he thought better of his flirtation. He could have just turned on his bar stool and given his attention back to his friends or one of the other two women remaining in the bar.

But no.

Apparently I offended him. And he proceeded to have a go at me. A "that's what's wrong with women like you" kind of a go at me.

I really do not like statements that begin or end with "that's what's wrong with" and "women/people like you."

And I wasn't really interested in him, anyway. But. I wasn't out to have some guy I just met in a bar give me a 10 minute lecture on "what's wrong with women like me," either.

Okay, yes, I could have been less snarky. I could have been less defensive.

But then, he could have been less idiotic. He could have been less insulting.

He could have had a better sense of humor.

But, later, in the cab, my friend had a go at me, too. "Trillian, that's why you're single. That guy was interested in you until you were such a smartass to him. He tried to show you his sense of humor and you shot him down, one upped his joke and were a total condescending smartass back to him. No guy wants a woman who's going to be a smartass to him, and especially not a condescending smartass."

"I shot him down? With the gun I don't own."

"I get your sense of humor and I like it but I have the benefit of a lot of years of knowing your other qualities. The good ones."

"Thanks."

"You know what I mean. Don't change the topic. You need a man. You don't have to have a boyfriend or dates or whatever it is that you're refusing to do these days, but you need to spend some time with a man or men. This whole, 'up on the shelf' thing is not healthy. And the longer you avoid men, the worse your attitude toward them gets. You know men have itty bitty fragile egos that need stroking and massaging. They pride themselves on their sense of humor and you. You know that. So why didn't you just giggle off his stupid gun joke? How was he supposed to respond to your come back? You deflated his ego by not letting him be the funny one and left him with no options. The most he could have managed was a 'Touche' but it takes a big man to give a 'Touche' to a woman in a bar with a lot of other men around."

"I presume my ego you mean penis. And I don't think he was entirely joking about the gun."

"Ego, penis, same thing. You wouldn't make fun of or insult his penis so why did you make fun of his joke?"

"Well, now, see, this is why I'm single. I don't see the logic in that logic. And I don't want to play that game. I don't want to spend my life, or even a date or two, keeping my tongue on a leash. Yes, I could be more tactful, but, I'd still think the things I think and after a while I'd just be sitting there having silent conversations with myself because I'd be so afraid of wounding his ego. Penis. Or whatever. That cannot possibly be healthy. And if that's why I'm single, so be it. It's quite nice up here on the shelf. I don't have to worry about stroking egos. Or penises."

It was a silent cab ride after that.

I know my friend is right. But I also know I'm right, too.

If the guy's pick-up line/joke hadn't been a dig at Detroit, an all too familiar dig at Detroit, I would have given him a giggle, stroked his egopenis. But he did make a stupid (and all too familiar) joke about Detroit. And I wasn't interested, anyway. Because I really do like it up here on the shelf. The shelf where I don't have to worry about coddling a man's egopenis.

But.

Upon further contemplation I do realize there's a thin line between carefree and cynical, outspoken and snarky.

So.

Guy at the bar in New York: I'm sorry. It's not you, it's me. I've heard every Detroit stereotype there is and I'm weary of them, so, yes, I was little too quick on the defensive. I didn't mean to usurp your humor. I didn't mean to shoot you down. It was nice of you to offer me some of your attention and I should have been more appreciative. I'd like to say it was the booze talking - and yes, alcohol may have been a factor - but mostly it was just me being me. I'm actually a nice person. My friend who was with me that night said I have good qualities, she'll vouch for me. I've had a rough time of it lately and I guess I'm just kind of in a weird emotional place and didn't really think before I spoke. I'm sorry about that.

But.

For the record.

I don't own a gun. And I intend to go to my grave never having even held one. And I find it offensive that you, or anyone, would either presume or joke that I own a gun.

And there's nothing wrong with women like me.

12:47 AM

 
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