Author of I Know I am But What Are You?
Samantha Bee talks about some of her favorite picks after her recent appearance on The Leonard Lopate Show.
Everyone from scientists to political pundits to movie stars to just plain folks seems to have an idea about how to stop the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico these days. Nuclear weapons, hydraulic pipes, bails of hay, and high tech water cleaning systems have all been put on the table. Takeaway listeners join the fray with some of their proposals, including cameo appearances by Bill Gates and Samantha Bee.
You probably have watched comedian Samantha Bee as a correspondent on "The Daily Show" for several years now, but did you know that she was an only child of divorced parents? That she's a Canadian with two children and another on the way? That she was introduced to sex at the tender age of 7? Oh, and she once worked in a penis clinic too.
That unorthodox childhood and life certainly inform Bee's comedy, and has now served as material for her new memoir, I Know I Am, But What Are You?.
[This excerpt from I Know I Am, But What Are You? contains both profanity and humor.]
looking a gift horse in the mouth
I have an affliction that cannot be cured. It affects me annually around the holiday season and at a few other scattered points throughout the year, on people’s birthdays. It’s an obsession with finding the pitch-perfect gift, accompanied by a severe mental block when it comes to interpreting that person’s needs and desires. Like an atrophy of the gift-giving muscle.
I’ve tried hard all my life to do it right, and years of both missing the mark terribly and being at the receiving end of some of the most thoughtless gift-giving possible have fueled my passion to do better, though it is endlessly tiring. I would be extremely happy if I came from a family that composed original poetry, or pulled names out of a hat to give one single gift as our preferred mode of holiday expression. But in our family, everybody has to get everybody else a present, and that’s the way it goes. If you tried to give someone a poem instead of a present, you would find yourself on the receiving end of a clusterfuck of confusion, as the person repeatedly tried to dig through the envelope it came in to find the gift card for Best Buy that surely must have dropped out somewhere along the way.