Bookshop
Visit Sam’s curated Bookshop Store for a list of all the books currently keeping her up at night…mostly in a good way.
Where Are My Glasses? (and other things I find in the fridge)
From the award-winning comedian, talk show host, and author of I Know I Am, But What Are You? comes a new book of honest, humorous essays on getting older, in the vein of Nora Ephron's I Feel Bad About My Neck.
Of the four billion women on earth who will, eventually, get older, only seemingly ten of them have any understanding of what’s coming. Samantha Bee would know - she was one of the many who had no idea.
This book is for every woman celebrating the successes, the indignities, and the occasionally bizarre moments of aging. The woman who opens the fridge one afternoon to find she left her car keys next to the milk. The woman sitting at the conference table radiating heat as two titty-shaped sweat stains spread across her silk blouse. The woman who finally got her dream job hosting a late-night TV show and then immediately hit perimenopause. (Actually, that woman wrote this book.)
Getting older doesn’t come with one-size-fits-all problems. But in Where Are My Glasses?, you’ll find plenty of your own - as long as you can find your reading glasses first.
Coming Spring 2027
I Know I Am, But What Are You?
Candid, outspoken, laugh-out-loud funny essays from much-loved Samantha Bee, host of TBS's uproarious late-night show Full Frontal with Samantha Bee, executive producer and writer of TBS's comedy television series The Detour, and former The Daily Show with Jon Stewart’s Most Senior Correspondent.
In I Know I Am, But What Are You? she shares her unique and irreverent viewpoint on subjects as wide-ranging as:
BARBIE’S DREAM HOUSE
There were six main players in my coterie: G.I. Joe (macho, good-looking), Wonder Woman (hot, carpet-munching neighbor, busy with athletics), Marie Osmond (career gal, smart), Ken (gay, obviously), regular Barbie (slutty, dumb, eternally single), and an old-timey Barbie from the sixties (smoker’s cough, swinger).
HER CHILDHOOD CRUSH
I had a notebook dedicated to ironing out the details of my postmarital name change. Samantha Christ. Mrs. Jesus H. Christ. In fact, Jesus and I were so tight that if at any moment He should materialize, I knew we would listen to my disco records and eat Tang straight from the package, just like lovers did.
GYM CLASS
My grandmother would send me in a navy-blue, puffy-sleeved, one-piece cashmere sweat suit with a patent-leather belt, and warn me not to sweat in it, since it was dry-clean only.