I am a male...

So I'm peacefully drifting along with the other box jellies, nibbling an occasional passing crustacean and semi-dozing, when unexpectedly Oprah and her whole entourage loom out of the depths. As they're about to pass by, she suddenly wheels about with a thrust of her flippers, swims up to me, and bubbles, "Girl, that hair's a mess, all straight and straggly; you ain't never gonna get you a male jelly looking like that. We gotta do you a makeover right now! Rita, come over here and tell us what to do immediately. Just look how lank and lifeless this stringy mess is," and she holds up a bunch of my tentacles and waves them at Rita as she glides up from back in the entourage-school. Well, enough's enough, I think, so I zap her with a handful of nematocysts, and she lets go real fast. Girl, you need a serious attitude adjustment; you need Dr. Phil. She lets go my tentacles, heads to the surface, breaches, and quiet settles in again here in the depths. I am a male, I try to yell after her, but, not having vocal cords, nothing comes out. So I just drift off with the herd, snacking on minute crustaceans, napping, and enjoying the quiet.