@Kerry@twitter To explain: sometimes killing time isn't a big deal, but what about when you're hungry? Or it's really cold out? Or you're alone, and there's a creepy stranger nearby? Or you have something else scheduled for later (or you're paying for parking, or for a baby sitter, or you need to get back to some freelance work)? While I do enjoy reading books/magazines, it wouldn't always be my first choice of how to spend a given block of time, you know? I've got a lot of other stuff I need to do! I've decided I can put some of it aside for a chunk of time to see someone, but apparently they've decided on their own that they're more important than anything else I might have to do.
@NeverOddOrEven She's Kiki from Kiki's Delivery Service: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Kiki%27s_Delivery_Service_Screenshot_01_Kiki_and_Jiji_flying_by_clocktower.jpg
@renegadeoboe Yes, exactly; it was all very perfunctory. And the big finale ending didn't even make sense -- okay, so the Doctor can't pilot the TARDIS back to NY in 1938... why don't they just meet in London in 1940 and then fake the gravestones? They've gotten out of much worse scrapes than that before! It would have been a more satisfying ending if they'd just left Amy and Rory back to their lives after the Wedding of River Song, with the explanation that seeing them again would blow the Doctor's cover. I mean, I liked meeting Rory's dad, but not at the expense of the coherence of their story. (Also, what was with the gravestone calling them Rory and Amy Williams? "Pond" is a way better last name.)
On the topic of wheelchairs getting better: http://www.wired.com/design/2012/08/flamethrowers-fighter-jet-seats-share-wheelchair-users-personalities/ (That's just one guy so it's not like it's mass-market, but wow!)
@yunkstahn I'm learning that "soft cup" is the magic phrase, for me. I'm one of those small-back/large-cup folks, and I didn't even know that it was an option to get something in anything approaching my size that wasn't foam-lined! Then I went on a trip to the UK, and my undergarment situation immediately improved tenfold. My new bras look downright flimsy and are made out of soft, breathable mesh, and yet somehow do the structural part of their job way better than their molded predecessors.
And yeah, worrying about nipples is a sucker's game. At least for me, it's not like the foam actually hid them successfully anyway.
@whateverlolawants Another thing is that while you're right that the hourglass body type is "idolized," it's still not exactly respected.
We've set up this cultural thing where breast size = femininity, and all that entails: so while smaller-breasted ladies get beaten with the "you're basically a little boy" side of the sword, larger-breasted ladies get the "you are a pure sex object" side. Which means that strangers think they can tell just by looking at me that I am a dumb slut, and that I slept my way to any power or money I might have. And why should I complain about that, because after all at least they think I'm hot, amirite?
@WaityKatie But the point is that they're actually not that unusual of sizes! If the average size is 36D, quite a few ladies are going to be larger than that. (And to balance, of course quite a few are smaller, too -- the whole idea of B through D being "good enough for everyone" is totally ridiculous.)
@sarantium@twitter Yes, absolutely everything you said. Especially when some portion of that queer-ladies 5% is the lesbians who won't date a bisexual woman. (And especially when one has a STEM-y career and therefore one's peer group is [big number]% dudes in the first place.)
@entangled @allinmycar YES exactly. I use all sorts of gender-neutral circumlocutions when I mention my wonderful, supportive boyfriend of almost two years, but I catch myself flat-out saying "my ex-girlfriend" when I mention a lady I long distance dated for a couple of months, who basically couldn't be bothered to make sure I'd gotten dinner when I was stuck in her apartment with the worst flu I've ever had, and who never once visited me in my city. Like, woohoo, I landed myself a female significant other! Even though actually dating her pretty much sucked. And it kills me because, what am I supposed to be proving here? The only time it's actually important for people to know about my sexuality is if I'm trying to date them, and I'm happily monogamous, so I'm clearly subconsciously trying to make a political point out of my sex life. Which is terrible.