Ladyboy Quotes

Think about it mate – the 'Long Gun'. That's a ladyboy bar.

When you’re in The System, like after being arrested, you’re no longer a participant. You’re being processed. Instead of an easy to ignore, well-greased cog, you become a sharp edge that needs to be ground down.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, why did God invent captions?

No sun cream or condoms, just in case you’re looking at the lady-boys. There’s plenty of AIDS lingering about and every STD you can imagine.

My conversations with people who are just beginning to understand and include transsexual and transgender people in their plans or programs lean heavily on this. For them, the very fact of a transsexual who is a real student at their school or client of their agency can be new and surprising. But for queers and transfolk, who have institutionalized an additional set of queerly normative genders, it can sometimes be difficult to hear that we, too, must expand. If butch daddies want to crochet, if twinkly ladyboys are sometimes tops in bed, if burly bears can do BDSM play as little girls, if femme fatales build bookcases in their spare time, these things, too, are not just good but great. They bring us, I believe, wonderful news: news that gendered options can continue to explode, that the chefs in the kitchen of gender are creating new and imaginative specials every day. That we, all of us, are the chefs. Hi. Have a whisk.

I'm not a woman and i'm not a man, i'm just a thing with breasts and a penis".

The dog sniffed at the bonfire like a ship with a wet nose docking at a foreign port." -Mgru

I’m into people believing and doing whatever the hell they want,” I say, my words building momentum, “as long as it doesn’t hurt other people. It’s the same principle as ladyboys. Live and let live. Do what makes you happy. Don’t tamp it down, don’t be embarrassed. Just don’t be an asshole.” Even as I say it, I realize how long I’ve been suppressing these words, these thoughts. Oh, the irony.

I hate your kind." "Because someone like me made you?" He laughs again. "I'm surprised you aren't more pleased to meet me. You're as close as anyone ever comes to meeting God. Come now, don't you have any questions for God?" Emiko scowls at him, nods at the cheshires. "If you were my God, you would have made New People first." The old gaijin laughs. "That would have been exciting." "We would have beaten you. Just like the cheshires." "You may yet." He shrugs. "You do not fear cibiscosis or blister rust." "No." Emiko shakes her head. "We cannot breed. We depend on you for that." She moves her hand. Telltale stutter-stop motion. "I am marked. Always, we are marked. As obvious as a ten-hands or a megodont." He waves a hand dismissively. "The windup movement is not a required trait. There is no reason it couldn't be removed. Sterility. . ." He shrugs. "Limitations can be stripped away. The safeties are there because of lessons learned, but they are not required; some of them even make it more difficult to create you. Nothing about you is inevitable." He smiles. "Someday, perhaps, all people will be New People and you will look back on us as we now look back at the poor Neanderthals." Emiko falls silent. The fire crackles. Finally she says, "You know how to do this? Can make me breed true, like the cheshires?" The old man exchanges a glance with his ladyboy. "Can you do it?" Emiko presses. He sighs. "I cannot change the mechanics of what you already are. Your ovaries are non-existent. You cannot be made fertile any more than the pores of your skin supplemented." Emiko slumps. The man laughs. "Don't look so glum! I was never much enamored with a woman's eggs as a source of genetic material anyway." He smiles. "A strand of your hair would do. You cannot be changed, but your children—in genetic terms, if not physical ones—they can be made fertile, a part of the natural world." Emiko feels her heart pounding. "You can do this, truly?" "Oh yes. I can do that for you." The man's eyes are far away, considering. A smile flickers across his lips. "I can do that for you, and much, much more.

Life is algorithmic. Two becomes four, becomes ten thousand, becomes a plague. Maybe it's everywhere in the population already and we never noticed. Maybe this is end-stage. Terminal without symptoms, like poor Kip." Kanya glances at the ladyboy. Kip gives a gentle return smile. Nothing shows on her skin. Nothing shows on her body. It is not the doctor's disease she dies of. And yet. . . Kanya steps away, involuntarily. The doctor grins. "Don't look so worried. You have the same sickness. Life is, after all, inevitably fatal.

Thailand has been dubbed a lustful playground where it is overlooked when a straight male foggily awakes with new tattoos, missing limbs, and a torn anus from a belligerent romp with a transsexual ladyboy. As my shipmates perpetually claimed in defending their infidelities, “Hookers don’t count. They’re not real people.

nor I mentioned that she was a lady-boy. We decided that it was best to keep our mouths shut and let the horny Italian discover the truth for himself. After all, it would be none of our business if anything should happen between the showgirl and my teacher.

For Ambrose and the Christians of his generation, women were considered to be lower than slaves—something Ambrose claimed—and sexual intercourse with women was believed to be a contaminating process ultimately devised by the devil. Therefore, the prospect of sex with a virginal, sexually hermaphroditic boy was not only in step with the hugely popular cults of Cybele and Dionysus, but in a Christian theological sense it was perfectly pure and spiritually justifiable. In fact, the proposition of sex with the Jesus lady-boy also supported the assertions of generations of monks, priests and Church fathers who upheld the idea that a virginal, sexually undifferentiated, prepubertal child was the ideal sexual partner.

A description of a man-god savior with female reproductive organs and breasts may be disturbing to a modern audience, but the pagan world, which at the time was still a large percentage of the population, would have quickly recognized their own hermaphroditic, nurturing divinities in the person of Jesus the virginal lady-boy.

I see baimai, but the farang sees a leaf. The object we see may be the same, but our perspectives are different.