I have a full-on cold. You know—sneezing, coughing, sounding like Kathleen Turner. I deal with being sick like I do everything else that poses as an obstacle: I push through. I still have to walk the dog. I still need to apply ointment to his wound. I still need to make sure he’s fed. And then there’s The Teenager. She needs me. There’s is no pause button for me. I have to keep everything in motion. Last night, our dear friend Steve Murello came over and shot our Holiday Card, as he does every year. (Hire him! He’s a super talented photographer.) Reviewing the shots, you can see how ill I am, the darkness under my eyes and the skin so slimy the ill red flag.

And it’s not me being critical; I know what healthy Marcelle looks like. I am fresh-faced and natural and in general able to have a pep in my step. This version of me? I slept not one wink, I hacked my way through the darkness, I waited for respite. So that’s my little rant, whine, whatever fest for this morning. Healthy I am not. But at least Rocky has a partner-in-not-feeling-good arms to join him as we mend.

So here’s to Tuesday and wondering what White Man in Power will be outted as a misogynist and pussy grabber today.

I love the comic Michelle Wolf.

Also Christiane Amanpour.

What is the Success Academy and why should you care?

Are you a fan of beauty-box subscriptions?

And wtf is submarining?

Sex stuff.

And now have a laugh with  Yamaneika Saunders.