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

 
Friday, July 10, 2015  
Area woman Tricia McMillian has new awareness and elevated concerns about life in the wealthy north shore suburbs of Chicago. McMillian recently attended a concert in Chicago where she was seated in front of four fancily clad and fastidiously groomed women. McMillian initially noted that their fresh highlights and coordinating Tory Burch blouses were a little out of place in the more middle income/art industry crowd, but she assumed they were having a ladies night out and thought it would be fun to pretend to relive the alternative music phase they didn’t have when they were in college. Much to McMillian’s surprise and concern, the erstwhile politely and delicately seated women rose on four-inch-Aquazzura-heeled feet and chant-yelled the lyrics to a disturbing song with such zeal and vigor that they drowned out the stage performers.
“I don’t usually judge on appearance, but these women stood out of the crowd. They were obviously not like most of the rest of us in that venue who still bear visible scars of socially awkward formative years. I mean, they were wearing white jeans and enormous diamond-encrusted jewelry from crying out loud. I could understand women ‘like that’ identifying with, oh, I don’t know, maybe Kiss Me a Lot or even Suedehead, you know, when they get sloppy drunk on girls night, but to hear them belting out, ‘Hector was the first of the gang with a gun in his hand and the first to do time, the first of the gang to die,’ was a little unsettling.” McMillian noted that the women didn’t just know the lyrics, they knew every note and nuance. “These women have clearly studied that song with the intensity and earnestness of a 13 year old Justin Bieber fan. The song obviously touches them, they seemed to relate, deeply, to the plight of Hector and the gun in his hand and the bullet in his gullet.”
Their depth of emotion over the song was made more profound by the relative lower key audience during that song. The crowd was jubilant and even riotous for many of the more WASP relatable songs, but ‘Hector’ is not as easy for most of the performer’s fans to relate to on a personal level. Many of the fan base in attendance, who are primarily white, aged 30+, work in science, libraries, IT or the arts, and are of a more sensitive and gentle souled nature with limited or no personal experience with gang affiliation or weaponry, took the time during the performance of ‘Hector’ to sit down for a few minutes, rest their middle-aged backs and feet and have a few sips of their beverages. This break in the crowd’s standing enthusiasm for the concert made the four zealously-singing women stand out all the more.
It was at this juncture that Ms. McMillian grew concerned about the spread of gangs in the Chicago area. “I know gangs are not limited to the city boundaries. But I didn’t realize that Tory Burch blouses might be some sort of gang apparel, a type of ‘colors’ worn to signify gang affiliation. And all of them were wearing white jeans…”
Ms. McMillian also chastised herself for judging the women based on their appearance. “I berated myself pretty harshly for a while. I thought, ‘for all I know they could live in a rough ‘hood in the city. They might be living in the midst of gang violence with drive-by shootings on their streets and gang tags spray painted on their houses.’ I felt really awful for judging them and making presumptions about where and how they live.”
McMillian’s worries quickly turned back to the suburbs, though, when the concert ended and she voiced concern about finding a cab with all the concert goers hitting the street at the same time. The posh women had vague looks of confusion until one of them said, “Oh, a cab, yikes. I can’t even imagine dealing with that.  Our drive back to Highland Park [an affluent North shore suburb of Chicago] doesn’t seem so awful compared to that,” motioning to a taxi stand line wrapping around the building. The four women suffered a brief moment of panic when they couldn’t remember which one of them had the valet tag. A quick check of their coordinating Balenciaga handbags erupted in a surfeit of giggles among the women when the one they call ‘Becca’ produced the valet tag. Apparently Becca has a history of forgetting where she stows valet tags, an inside joke the ladies find uproariously funny, perhaps harkening back to a gang initiation rite.
“I don’t know what’s going on up there on the North shore that makes these women relate so deeply to a song about gun violence,” McMillian lamented with a somewhat confused tone, “but the next time there’s a gang-related shooting in my inner city alley I won’t be so quick to assume moving to the suburbs would solve that problem for me."

The area woman recorded a snippet of the gangstress' heartfelt rendition. One of the gals can be heard really getting into it around the 1:45 mark

11:15 PM

 
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