Endless Mondays

Hockey, Florida, and my new tour!

Is this scary, or is this cute?

Hello and Happy Monday!

Full disclosure, I am writing this on a SUNDAY, which means I have no context for what a Monday morning could look like anymore. I feel that we could wake up to anything.

Is the Rose Garden paved over yet? Are scratch-off lottery tickets our new national currency? Have we renamed Air Force One the Too Nuckin’ Futts? Should we?

Whatever happened this morning, I am sorry for being so insensitive.

SO excited to report that Jesus was absolutely THRILLED to see the Canadian hockey team win the 4 Nations Face-off last week against the US.

For Behold His Joy, at bagging a Hat-Trick.

Learning that there is a whole genre of art focused on Jesus playing regular old sports and helping people with their golf swings, gave me a needed lift.

And speaking of lifting, there is another subgenre of “art” in which Jesus fully bodybuilds.

I love it all, I don’t judge. I wish I had a whole roomful of these, because I would laugh every time I walked through the door, and laughter is, I’m told, legal now.

(Remind me to tell you about the time I dated someone who had an entire room decorated with photographs of himself doing martial arts high kicks…in a Speedo…on the beach. Not a panty wetter, I can tell you.)

Anyway, a Sports Jesus room would be better than trusting this lady to choose art for you, having her steal your money, and then physically run away from you once her deception was revealed.

My favorite part:

“Ms. Schiff told him point blank: Their $1.8 million was gone.

Then she turned and fled down White Street.”

OMG.

Is now a good time to mention that I AM GOING ON TOUR AGAIN. Just an ever-so-cute petite tour, six cities for now, and perhaps more in the future. It’s just that I am BURSTING to perform How To Survive Menopause again, and I would prefer to do it in an intimate setting, directly into your eyeholes. Tickets are available here, and I literally cannot wait to see you and talk you through the myriad pleasures of perimenopause.

Please clap.

You can also listen to a wonderful episode of Choice Words here with the lovely Josh Gad, and a very funny episode of The Daily Beast Podcast in which Joanna Coles accuses me of wearing a giraffe print sweater, and I never recover. IT WAS CHEETAH PRINT. Look I remember Garanimals from growing up in the ‘70’s, so this cut me to my core.

I had the pleasure, last week, of being the keynote speaker at the Care, No Matter What gala, for Planned Parenthood of Southwest and Central Florida. And yes they have Planned Parenthood there, and YES I met some of the most active, motivated, caring, kind and brave people I have ever encountered, who are just trying to do right by their patients, of which there are many.

There is some assumption that doctors in states with restrictive abortion rules, and six-week abortion bans like Florida can just “fudge it.” I hear this all the time from reasonable and informed people. “Can’t they just fudge the date of conception a bit and get the woman her medication abortion pills?” No. There’s no fudge. Let me tell you what I have learned, and that is that representatives from the state are often PRESENT in the clinics and take an active role in looking at and interpreting ultrasounds, among other degradations.

People with no goddamn business doing so, are in fact, combing through patients personal information and doing shaky calculations about who had sex when and how long the fertilized egg is gonna take to wind its way down that ‘lil fallopian tube. It is also not uncommon for an embryo to measure larger than a typical six-week size if abnormalities are present creating an equation with additional factors many won’t consider.

Once the clock starts, it has started, and I gotta tell you–if you miss that six week window by one single minute–you shall be traveling to North Carolina to receive your abortion. No joke, no fudge. No fudging it. We are mere inches away from having women log their periods on some national database, and if you think I’m overdoing it you are as wrong as hell. Try to get your teenager on Accutane in a blue state and you will start to understand that a national database wouldn’t be as onerous for them to undertake as you think. Also, let’s not forget Florida already did attempt this for teenage athletes. [Deep sigh]

Stay safe and sane this week.

Xoxo,

Sam

PS - Since I missed a newsletter for Valentine’s Day, I wanted to pass along what I would’ve put in all of your shoeboxes. (Thank you TCM).