Posts tagged conversation
Posts tagged conversation
Andrej Pejic | Nightline ABC
If anyone is interested, the interview is here: http://abcnews.go.com/Nightline/video/guy-doll-man-models-womens-clothes-14524558
It’s amazing how unaware the interviewer is. Some of the questions she asks are just not-so-good. But Andrej handles it with class and brilliance.
Web comic: Poly In Pictures 83: Cold Confused Caller
Caption: I like to confuse cold-callers.
Caller: Is this the lady of the house?
Stick figure: Um. No; who’s calling, please?
Caller: May I speak to the lady or the man of the house, please?
Stick figure: There are no men or women living here. WHO IS THIS?
Caller: Oh… I— er. *Beeeeep*
The alt text says “This really happened.”
![genderfork:
A friend asked cleverbot this, it put a smile on both our faces, though I don’t know why he hadn’t just googled it or asked me…
[Image description: a screencap of a conversation with Cleverbot. The human asks: “What does transgender mean?” Cleverbot answers: “I am a bot.” Human: “Does that mean you don’t know the answer?” Cleverbot: “You didn’t ask a question.” Human: “Ok, what is the meaning of transgender?” Cleverbot: “The meaning of life is to be happy and live your life the way you want and be what you want to be. Not what others try to make you.”]](http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lpqfnpTvB71qavwdpo1_500.jpg)
A friend asked cleverbot this, it put a smile on both our faces, though I don’t know why he hadn’t just googled it or asked me…
[Image description: a screencap of a conversation with Cleverbot. The human asks: “What does transgender mean?” Cleverbot answers: “I am a bot.” Human: “Does that mean you don’t know the answer?” Cleverbot: “You didn’t ask a question.” Human: “Ok, what is the meaning of transgender?” Cleverbot: “The meaning of life is to be happy and live your life the way you want and be what you want to be. Not what others try to make you.”]
I thought then of my friend, the corset threatening to slip right past her hips to her ankles. I thought of her shopping around for electrologists while I’m working so hard to sprout just four hairs from skin that doesn’t even do peach fuzz. I thought of her shyer, deeper voice in contrast to my own ringing, melancholic, opera-trained, still so alien mezzo.
“It’s hard to relate,” I began somewhat absently, watching my formerly hourglass-shaped corset conform to her taut, upside-down-triangle torso.
“I want hair,” I continued. “You don’t want hair. I let it grow, you rip it all out. We want all opposite things.”
She looked at me like I had just tried to explain differential equations using a flipflop and a jar of peanut butter. “I think we want the same thing,” she told me bluntly.
It felt as though the poles had shifted. Her voice had warm finality in it. It said, “I have no problem relating to you.” It said, “You’re looking for freedom and I am, too.” It said, “Your tits aren’t my tits, and both of us have beautiful chests.
I broke one of the Man Rules at work this morning. I’ve already forgotten which (it’s kinda hard to keep track). I was met with the response:
“And you call yourself a man!”
“No I don’t. You do.”
“… Whu. You’re a man.”
“No I’m not.”
“… What are you then?”
“I’m just me.”
“Oh.