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

 
Saturday, May 19, 2012  
I was in a grocery store a couple days ago. A friend was taking an inordinate amount of time choosing which type of agave nectar is the best alternative sweetener. So I noticed the muzak more than I usually do. They were playing a 70s Somnambulistic mix. England Dan and John Ford Coley. Seals and Crofts. Bread. Atlanta Rhythm Section. Man there was a lot of crap music in the '70s. The question of the ages: Does music reflect the culture of the day, or does culture reflect the music of the day?

Do you wanna make love? Or do you just wanna fool around?

Yeah. I hadn't heard that one in a long time, either.

But it brought me to a startling realization: I'm pretty sure no one under the age of 50 makes love anymore.

They hook up. They bang or get banged. They boff, bonk, bone or get boned. (At least I think they're still bonking and boffing, it seems like I've heard about boffing and bonking in the past five years.) They tap that. They get busy, they get it on and they get laid. Or they merely get some. For a while in the '90s they knocked boots. (Does anyone knock boots anymore? Or do the nasty, the wild thing or get a freak on? Can you tell it's been a while since I've been out in the sexual vernacular world?) Occasionally, mostly after marriage, they have sex.

I think mostly people just do "it."

But, very few people under the age of 50 are making love.

And it occurs to me that no one has made love since maybe the early '90s. Huh.

I mean, everybody should be makin' love...
Come on, how many guys you know make love?


 The Will Ferrell and Rachel Dratch SNL skits, The Lovers', in the early '00s were a clear message to "the making love" generation that their sexual vernacular was so antiquated that it's parody-worthy. For any younger hold outs still using the terms lover and making love, those skits were the death knell.
"Just say it! Lover."


I suppose there are people, of a certain age (if you quit watching SNL when Bill Murray left you're of that age) who still make love. I came of sexual age after the making love hey-day. My parents came before it so they never referred to sex as making love, and they weren't lovers. They were married. The rest was implied and didn't need a label. Or discussion. So the only time I heard the terms lover and making love were on television re-runs, in movies and in the occasional song.

I was a naive kid. When I heard the term lover on television or in movies I wasn't aware enough to understand that lover meant anything other than boyfriend/girlfriend. And I was completely in the dark about what making love entailed.

That is until an older boy on the playground at recess chased me up the slide and kissed me. I presumed that meant we were boyfriend and girlfriend, hence, in love, hence, lovers, and that we made love. I was 7 and very uncomfortable with all of that. I liked the boy well enough, he lived in the neighborhood, was a winger on his hockey team and rode a cool bike. A girl could do a lot worse. But. I was 7. And not ready for a serious relationship. I knew my parents would not approve. And I was mad that he kissed me without asking first, or without any warning whatsoever. One minute we were playing tag with a bunch of kids, the next minute he was sticking his mouth on my mouth and then he slid down the slide away from me to return to the game of tag as if nothing happened. Even at the age of 7 I knew I didn't like feeling like a conquest. I'm sure there's a lot of psychology in all of that.

The rest of the afternoon I fretted over the whole thing. Kiss = love = boyfriend = lover. I liked the kid but I barely knew him. I was pretty certain I didn't love him. What would I tell my parents? My sister dated a lot of boys, but she was a lot older. My parents made her wait until she was 16 to go on dates and that was a source of contention from age 14 - 16 between my sister and parents. They would never go for me having a lover at age 7.

I kept the secret for several days. I clandestinely looked up "lover" and "making love" in our encyclopedias and dictionaries and didn't gain much enlightenment - it only made me more anxious and confused about what happened on that slide and what the ramifications were. I slept fitfully and found it difficult to enjoy my toys and books. Friday night rolled around and my brother was going out with his girlfriend. Trying to act all mature and worldly - because now, with a full contact kiss under my belt, I was a woman of the world - as he prepped for his date I said, "Getting ready for a night out with your lover, I see."

Needless to say my 17 year old brother a) cracked up and then b) schooled me on the fact that 7 year old girls should not throw around the term lover. I was obviously confused. I explained my confusion, and he cleared it up for me. Well, not all of it. He mainly cleared up the fact that not all girlfriends/boyfriends are lovers, and that a kiss does not constitute making love. To this day the relief I felt at that moment remains one of the best feelings I've ever felt. "Whew" does not even begin to cover it.

Take the L out of lover and it's over.

And ever since then I have hated the terms making love and lover. Too ambiguous and silly for my taste. And they are rarely used in the confines of a relationship where there is actually love.

Years (and years) ago I went out with a guy a few times. We had a few drinks and got to talking about mutual friends. He mentioned that one of our friends was "bad in bed." He knew this because, he said casually, she was one of his lovers. Guys, whatever you call it, hooking up, fuck buddying, do not mention that you do this with a friend of the woman with whom you are on a date. I mean, if you want to see her again, anyway. I considered it fair warning. I do not like kissing and telling. I don't do it and I don't like to hear other people kissing and telling. Apart from erotic fiction, I don't want to know about the sexual experiences - good or bad - of real life people. And the fact that this guy so readily divulged his take on our friend's sexual prowess, or lack thereof, told me all I needed to know about him: Jerk.

My friends sometimes go into details about their husbands', um, proclivities and I don't like it. It doesn't embarrass me or titillate me. It just makes it weird the next time I see their husbands. They don't know I know they have developed an interest in rim jobs or that they've become two pump chumps. They think I think they're just nice guys who like to play Scrabble, barbecue on weekends and want to take up geocaching. I truly wish that was the extent of my knowledge about them. But thanks to the sexual revolution and Sex in the City, us gals apparently feel a duty to share the intimate details of our intimate lives with our friends. To me, especially in a marriage, sharing bedroom (or kitchen counter) details with people outside of that relationship is a betrayal. If the men know their wives/partners are blabbing details of their sex life to their friends that's not a betrayal, I guess, but...even if the partner is okay with the broadcasting of their sex life, is it necessary? If there are issues, concerns, then sure, a trained professional's ear can be helpful. But trust me, I am not a trained professional and I do not have helpful advice for my friends' issues with their husbands' sexual prowess or lack thereof.

Anyway. That's a blog for another day.

To me, the terms lover and making love evoke images of heavily mustached men in soft focus, silhouetted against a very orange sunset-lit sky, whispering through their mustache, "Hey baby, do you wanna make love?" Or, alternately, a woman in full '70s garb, with concern and escalated imploring emotion, saying to her husband that they never make love. Or, that same woman, complaining to other women about the lack of love making in her marriage and the need to take a lover.


And let's talk about that. Lover. When was the last time you heard anyone refer to their sexual partner as their lover? Gratefully, that trend seems to have finally waned. I never heard it roll off the tongue naturally. At least not in real life. Occasionally in movies and music the singer or actor pulled it off without the weird affectation that usually accompanies it in real life. Whenever I've heard anyone say it in real life it either comes off jokey, a la Will Ferrell and Rachel Dratch, or pervy, a la some deranged psychopath rapist. Needless to say, hearing a man say it has never put me in the mood for it.

Back when the terms were en vogue, people made love with their lovers. They may or may not have been in love. My guess is usually not. So it's probably good that we're enlightened and straightforward in our terminology, now. The people who used to be called lovers are now fuck buddies.

Even though I am old school about the implications of the terms, it's probably healthier, emotionally, for people to call it what it is: justsex. A hook up, a fuck buddy, a one night stand. Nothing more. Especially for women with Cinderella fantasies. These women cling to the notion that one true loves' kiss will change their lives and they'll live happily ever after with their handsome prince. Oh yes, these women exist. And they have extremely romantic notions of love and sex. So for these women it's good that the terms lover and making love are no longer in circulation. If a guy called them their lover, they'd go all gooey and melty and think love is actually a factor in the relationship, when in fact they are merely fuck buddies. Hooking up, fuck buddying...the terms remove all doubt and prevent delusion. This is justsex. Nothing more. No making love, not lovers, just having sex. It's a nice implied disclaimer for anyone who wants sex but not a relationship. "This is just a hook up." "We're just fuck buddies." "Yeah, I tapped that once." "I did her." "I juiced him." These are not terms of endearment and the fine print is clear: This is justsex. Nothing more. Everyone's on the same page. 

To my ear, the terms fuck buddies and hooking up seem derogatory. But. To the generations behind me they're normal terms. "We hooked up a couple times but we're not dating" is a normal statement made by regular people who are very aware and open with their sexuality. They hold no pretense or ambition or longing for something more. It was justsex. And people have been having justsex since our species crawled out of the primordial ooze. This is nothing new. But the public attitude about it seems to have finally reached the private attitude about it. Some dating sites and the personals area of the classifieds have sections titled things like, "Intimate Encounters." This is apart from the usual dating sections and includes options for people to be very specific about what they're looking for in an intimate encounter. Its justsex but it's not just sex. Among many (and I mean many) preference choices, people can specify exactly what and who they wan for justsex. Among the tamer choices, men can specify whether they want women shaved or unshaved, and women can select cut or uncut, both can choose between rubber and vinyl and Astroglide and Liquid Silk. Those are just to get the, uh, ball rolling. As you progress down the list, the choices become more sexually specific. If you're using these sites to meet sexual partners it's implied that you're not looking for love, you're looking for justsex, a hook up, a fuck buddy. And that's great - consenting adults, open and honest about their desires and intentions...s'all good. Do you wanna make love? Or do you just wanna fool around? The latter, please.

Except what about the people (and I think there might be a few remaining) who are, you know, actually in love?


What are the terms for people who are in a relationship/dating/in love? My married friends refer to it as having sex or doing it. Or refer to a specific act or acts. Blow jobs, hand jobs, rim jobs, beef jobs, bum jobs, Z-jobs...when did sex become work (outside of prostitution)? People say marriage is work, and apparently that's true because almost every sex act my married friends talk about is some kind of job. Their husbands are getting weirdly specific in their sexual desires and my friends are obliging because they're worried about the attractive young women in their husbands' offices. My friends feel a need to up their game to prove to their husbands they are still sexually relevant and worthy. They are devouring 50 Shades of Grey, not for the erotica titillation aspects, but to pick up some tips and ideas to try with their husbands*.

Yeah, I dunno. Whatever. Good thing I'm not married. I can't afford the implements and maintenance. (waxing and laser hair removal alone would bankrupt anyone who earns less than six figures). And even though I have a pretty active imagination and a lot of natural curiosity and not much inhibition, I don't want to think of sex as a job or that I have to prove my sexual self to anyone, least of all a husband. Hmmph. (These are the conversations I have with myself in the middle of the night, pep talks to convince myself that really, I'm better off single.) And while I'm always up for trying something new, if everyone is reading 50 Shades of Grey for ideas, then everyone is doing the same things, and then they're not really new ideas. To say nothing of the fact that I am of the opinion that when it comes to getting off, everything has been tried at some point in the history of our species. There's a whip for every kink.

I think there needs to be a term, though, to distinguish justsex and sex between people who are actually in love and dating each other or married. Making love and lover...blech. Will Ferrell and Rachel Dratch killed any lingering attachment to those terms.

Maybe that's why my friends are so specific about what they're doing with (and to) their husbands. There's no good catch-all term for sex inside the confines of a committed relationship. And that's what I find interesting in all of this. Look at all the slang for sex. Most of it is banal and not anything most of us would use in conjunction with someone we respect and love. With a couple drinks and in the confines of a trusting relationship, I can be a nasty girl now and again, but, I don't want to refer to sex with someone I love as "doing the nasty." There's nothing nasty about sex between two people who are in love. They might get their freak on, but it's more than a hook up, it's more than justsex, and degrading it to the terms used for justsex demeans the relationship.

But. Still. There's not a good term that distinguishes loving sex from justsex. Telling societal indicator or just a lingering reaction to the sexual revolution? The terms that used to be shocking are jokey, now. ("We can have sex whenever we want, with whomever we want, however we want it! And we're going to flaunt this fact in...someone's...face by coming up with derogatory slang!") Maybe it's just me, maybe I'm jaded (okay, of course I'm jaded) but as much as I applaud the open honesty of justsex slang, there's something really empty about it. Not the emptiness of meaningless sex, nothing new there, but the emptiness of the acceptance of derogatory slang is new. Sure, it stands to reason that when meaningless sex is the accepted norm, the slang for what is no longer naughty will naturally become irrelevant. It's perfectly acceptable for a guy to say he banged the shit out of some girl last night. A few grandmothers might bat an eye and flash an disapproving scowl, but not because of the act, only because of the disrespect toward the woman, and hence women in general. Hearing the term, "banging the shit" doesn't shock anyone. Or, very few people. Because the presumption is that if you're not married or in a relationship you're having justsex all over the place, banging the shit out of nameless women or getting the shit banged out of us by nameless men. Since that's the presumption, the behavior is accepted, and the taboo is gone, the terms for it no longer need to be euphemistic or cloaked in street slang.

We don't need slang for justsex anymore. Ironically, we need slang for romantic sex.


*Customers who bought 50 Shades of Gray also bought Lesbian Strap-On Role Play: 10 Lesbians Share Their Favorite Strap-On Role Play Experience by Jennifer Power. They also bought, oddly, I think, Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I read the Hunger Games trilogy, enjoyed it, and find zero correlation between Hunger Games and 50 Shades of Grey other than the main character is female. Katniss is a young girl living in an oppressive era in an oppressive region under an oppressive government where life is hard and food is scarce. She is forced into situations that force her to make life and death choices she would never consider were she not, well, forced into it. Anastasia is a free-willed adult who, of her own volition, embarks on a sexual amusement park of an affair. Kinda weird that people are buying these two books or trilogies together. Maybe women are buying Hunger Games for their teens and while they're on Amazon they're throwing 50 Shades of Grey into the basket for themselves. Or maybe on Amazon Hunger Games is to 50 Shades of Grey as mints, paper towels, cans of mixed nuts, batteries, and a TV Guide is to condoms at Walgreen's. Decoy purchases to make yourself less noticeable. "Porn? What porn? Oh, that? That's a gift. Bachelorette party. I'm reading Hunger Games."

Sidebar, completely out of context, the term numnut came out of my mouth a few days ago. I presume I was temporarily possessed by the spirit of my father. The lawn service my mother uses has twice sent the same numnut to mow her lawn - the guy drove his huge lawnmower over a soggy area of yard, so soggy it was a mini-pond, but the numnut didn't mow around it, he barreled right through it and tore up the lawn in that area. Twice. He did this twice. Because he's a numnut. I like the term and will be bringing it back into vernacular. 

3:49 PM

 
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