Samantha Bee Quotes

You seem to attract injuries in the manner that a flower attracts bees.

Sex with my first boyfriend was a little bit like learning how to put in a tampon, but only half as enjoyable!

Where’s the normally grumpy Samantha this morning? Is there a coffeepot in your room?” “Spring is definitely on its way,” Margie said. Her back was turned to us, so she didn’t notice the looks that were being passed around. “I believe I heard some birds this morning,” Alex said as he ate his pancakes. “I wonder when the bees will make an appearance,” Chadwick said thoughtfully. “Pollinate a few flowers and such.

I can agree in principle that it's the thought that counts when giving or getting gifts, but I would also like to point out that "if there's no thought...it doesn't count." I don't wish to be reminded that you didn't want to take the time to get to know me, or perhaps you have even known me my whole life and simply don't care about me. All I ask is that you not rub my face in it.

Our family car was the antithesis of designs and desirability. It was like driving Hitler's moustache.

She had seen those eyes in mirrors for half a century. She had seen his face in a dream of bees. And a name escaped her before she could stop it. 'Armul.

When you're presented with an opportunity, if you don't act out of pure passion and pure authenticity, you're squandering it.

Who are you going to believe? Leading authorities on medical science, or 800 memes on your cousin’s Facebook page?

During the period in which newspapers were initially reporting on how asylum-seeking immigrants were having their young children ripped from them, presidential daughter and advisor Ivanka Trump tweeted a photograph of herself beatifically embracing her small son. When Samantha Bee performed a fierce excoriation of Trump’s incivility in both supporting her father’s administration, and posting such a cruel celebration of her own intact family, she called her a “feckless cunt.” It was this epithet, one that Donald Trump had himself used as an insult against women on multiple past occasions, that sent the media into a spiral of shocked alarm and prompted Trump himself to recommend, via Twitter, that Bee’s network, TBS, fire her. But neither Trump’s past use of the word to demean women, nor his possible violation of the First Amendment, provoked as much horror as the feminist comedian’s deployment of a slur that she had used before on her show often in reference to herself. Typically only the incivility of the less powerful toward the more powerful can be widely understood as such, and thus be subject to such intense censure. Which is what made #metoo so fraught and revolutionary. It was a period during which some of the most powerful faced repercussion.

And since I was basically being raised by senior citizens at the time, my physical activity was limited to driving around the park to look at the trees, driving to the lake to look at the lake, and driving to the mall to look at coats that were “car length.” My

The chamber was more like a cave than the rest of the Priory, dimmed to calm the mind. Passage from one womb to another - that was how she had seen it then, in the first clouded hour of holding him close. After the clearing, in her dreams, she remembered this room not as womb, but as tomb, as comb. No honey in a womb. No bees. She had brought him from the darkness to his end.

Of course!” he said. “I’d love to chat, but I’ve got to get this email out.” He grabbed some headphones from around his neck, put them over his ears, and returned to his laptop. And get this—his headphones weren’t even plugged in! They were those sound-canceling ones! The whole ride to Redmond he never spoke to me again. Now, Audrey, for the past five years we always figured Bernadette was the ghastly one. Turns out her husband is as rude and antisocial as she is! I was so miffed that when I got to work, I Googled Bernadette Fox. (Something I can’t believe I’ve waited until now to do, considering our unhealthy obsession with her!) Everyone knows Elgin Branch is team leader of Samantha 2 at Microsoft. But when I looked her up, nothing appeared. The only Bernadette Fox is some architect in California. I checked all combinations of her name—Bernadette Branch, Bernadette Fox-Branch. But our Bernadette, Bee’s mom, doesn’t exist as far as the Internet is concerned.

Ranging in different shades of pink from pale to vibrant, the peonies seemed to burst open practically overnight, swarms of bees zipping from flower to flower. In the orchard, fluffy white flowers adorned the cherry trees. The lake glimmered in the distance, the strands of the weeping willows blowing in the warm spring breeze. I'd read somewhere that weeping willows represented strength and were able to withstand the greatest of challenges. I wanted to be the tree, perseverant and ready for anything, even a storm.

One evening, as I carefully prepared my dollies for bed with their silky pajamas and pin curls, my mom literally threw a red book at me from across the room with a 'Here. Read this. Let me know if you have any questions.' It took me half a day to get through, and afterward, oh, did I have questions. The book contained the most explicit descriptions of every sexual proclivity in existence - I had a lot of questions: 'Is it the man that pees on the woman or the woman that pees on the man?' 'What if you forget your safe word?' 'Do we have any shlurp bars in Toronto?' 'What's your safe word?' 'What if you go to shrimp someone and they haven't washed their feet?' 'What should my safe word be? Is alphabet soup to obvious?' Soon, not only was I familiar with the basics of male-female sexual intercourse, I could explain in great detail what bukkake was. I could give you a rundown on a Cincinnati Bowtie, or perhaps even take you through the intricacies of a German Scheisse video.

But instead, my father sat us down for an explanation of lesbianism.... ...I was mortified, and looked over at my girlfriend to see if this was all registering with her, but she was too busy daydreaming to notice the runaway train that was thundering thought the motel room. She hadn't spoken a single word to any of the adults so far on the trip, and even when she occasionally spoke to me, it was in such a eerily quiet tone that only a nine-year-old- girl or a dog could hear it. I'm pretty sure that Bob and Donna thought she was a deaf-mute, albeit one who could miraculously sense the vacuum seal breaking on a can of Pringles from a mile away. I was eager to let the whole thing go, when my friend asked casually, 'But what's munching the carpet got to do with anything?

My self-directed ensembles were usually some confused attempt to combine the uniforms of the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders with the somber aspect of a Portuguese widow.

Aw…do we need to have the birds and the bees talk? I would have thought you and Ethan would have covered all that.

When you say fair, Samantha,” said Mr Green through a peculiar smile, “do you mean one of those travelling fleets of vehicles that arrive and set up things like spinning Waltzers and Big Wheels and all manner of machines that whizz people around in circles and up and down and from side to side? Machines that could...” Mr Green turned away and his unnatural smile became even more unsettling... “easily go wrong!

When I got home at four o'clock in the morning on a school night, I shoved my mother awake and coolly hissed: 'I missed all my exams, I sprained my hand. Expect a call from the school. Go back to sleep.

Nothing could compare to the youthful vigor I applied to rummaging around in their private stuff to find incriminating evidence against them. With the methodical thoroughness of a CSI and the maniacal determination of an SS, I ransacked whole rooms for evidence of their drug use - like a junkie looking for smack, except that if I actually found smack, I probably would have called the police on them and initiated the process of emancipating myself, just to be a bitch about it.

It took me five minutes of awkward silence to come up with an answer, but upon careful consideration, I told her that my perfect job would entail spending the day in a cushiony room, napping with baby animals. Maybe they had been abandoned by their mothers of left by the side of the road; whatever their situation, it would be my job to keep them company and pet them and generally give them a warm motherly vibe. When they wanted to play and roll around on the floor, I would do that with them, and then when they got tired, they could fall asleep in the crook of my arm or snuggled in my blouse. And sometimes I would give them a warm bottle, just like in all the nature specials. But they would definitely have to be baby animals. I wasn't about to get scratched or nipped or anything - I'm no St. Francis.

I recall enthusiastically using my employee discount to buy a massive gold-framed print of two postcoital leopards. I originally intended to hang it over my futon bed, but I thought it sent the wrong message to all my potential suitors.

As it turns out, the whole place was a purgatory for gray-haired widows and divorced men, content to eat frozen dinners and watch Deep Space Nine until they fell asleep alone and covered in potato chip crumbs.

I didn't have the energy to scream at the flasher or yell for security. And besides, the 'security team' was just a bunch of tanned strippers in peekabook bikini briefs and heels. So I took matters into my own hands. 'Thank God you're here. Get on top of me right now and force-feed me all of that man meat!' I shouted at him. 'Your penis is irresistible to me! I must have it in my body right this minute!' I started to back him into a corner. 'No, don't put it back inside your pants! I require all of the services you are offering me. I request that you inspect my vaginables and see if they meet your exacting standards!' As I pulled my own pants down, he ran out of the building, never so scared in his life.

Hesitantly, I follow her up the steps to a metal door. When she opens it, I let out a gasp. A large dome glitters in the sun. Garrance opens up another door, this one glass, and I'm rendered speechless as a plethora of scents and humid air hit me, wrapping me up in Mother Nature's embrace. I'm in the islands. I'm in heaven. And I'm on a roof in Paris. I need a crane to pick up my jaw. "This is my climate-controlled greenhouse, my pride and joy." This slice of Parisian paradise is filled from floor to ceiling with tropical plants like orchids and flowering trees, moths, butterflies, and bees floating from flower to flower---not to mention the exotic birds---cockatoos, parakeets, and a couple of parrots, their plumage in reds, greens, blues, oranges, and whites.

Samantha Bee, asked me, “How does it feel to be the managing editor of the paper that makes stuff up?

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