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, February 28, 2015  
So, just when I said I don't care about celebrities, one of my favorites goes and dies. This is how the Universe works for me: I am resolute about something and then something happens to make me learn something about myself in an ironic twist on whatever it was I was so resolute about.

It was a few years after my dad died that I could watch Star Trek. Shortly after I was born my father introduced me to Star Trek via reruns on a local channel on late Saturday afternoons. Saturdays were my dad's day to spend time with us kids. The weekly trip to the library, a stop at the hardware store, ice cream cones and then home for whatever project (school or hobby) needed parental guidance. And often there was some indulgent Saturday afternoon television: Godzilla or B-movies or Star Trek.

My brother and I are big sci-fi fans. This is a classic nature/nurture situation. We either inherited our love of sci-fi from our dad, or we learned to love it because my dad loved it. Either way, my brother and I owe our interest in the galaxy to my dad. My brother was (and still is) a closet bona fide Trekkie. My dad was a huge fan and I was just a fan. (My sister never liked, understood or cared about Star Trek. In many ways that sums up my relationship with my sister.) By the time I came along, my dad and brother already knew all the episodes by heart. I had a lot of catching up to do. My dad coached me through the Enterprise's travels and the intricacies of the plots. I used to pretend my Barbie airplane was the Enterprise and took my dolls on adventures to made up planets. By the time I started kindergarten I knew the planets and a few facts about each, and could give the Vulcan salute with both hands. (I know, it's as if my dad wanted me to be a social outcast and end up a spinster...)

As I grew older I went through all the usual phases kids go through regarding their parents. But through all the ups and downs there were a few constants. One of them was no matter where or when, if one of us found Star Trek on television, we both got sucked in and spent an hour watching it together.

Shortly before my dad retired, we were both going to be in New York about the same time for business trips. He extended his trip, and I left a few days early for mine. We walked the Met, and went back to the hotel to give our feet a break and get ready for our dinner reservations at a swanky restaurant the concierge recommended to my dad. My dad flipped on the television and found: You guessed it, Star Trek. It was a mini-marathon. We ended up canceling the dinner reservation and ordered room service and raided the mini-bar instead and watched four hours of Star Trek. We had a blast and it's one of the fondest adult memories I have of my dad.

When the business part of my trip began, one of my colleagues asked me what my dad and I did on our day together in New York.

I said, "We wandered around the Met and watched Star Trek for four hours."

She said, "Yeah, my dad and I have a strained relationship, too."

I tried to assure her that my dad and I did had a great relationship, we had a lot of fun, it was a perfect day for both of us, but she didn't seem to buy it. I don't think she could could understand the depth of joy that (admittedly somewhat silly) show had for my dad and me.

So, after my dad died when I flipped through the channels and saw Star Trek, I choked up and couldn't flip past it fast enough.

And then one Sunday evening a couple years after my dad died, I was flipping through the channels and saw Spock. I started to choke up, but I decided it was time to confront my grief. I forced myself to watch Star Trek. It was difficult at first, but by the end of the show I felt better. I turned a corner in the grief process. I went from getting choked up at the memories and missing my dad to feeling good about the fond memories of watching Star Trek with my dad. Breakthroughs like this in grief signifying healing. The memories turn from painful reminders of the deceased's absence, to comforting nostalgia of the deceased.

And now Nemoy is dead and there's a part of me that hurts again. If my dad were here we'd find a channel showing Trek and kick back and celebrate the wonderfully silly, brilliantly overacted beauty that is Star Trek and toast Nemoy/Spock. I could do that by myself, or with friends, but it's kind of hollow without my dad.


9:29 PM

 
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