Momentous Howdygram tweaks for the New Year.

At the moment I’m so tired I feel paralyzed. I tried to nap this morning after an early lunch — late breakfast? — of braunschweiger on low-carb pumpernickel except I kept waking up on the chaise every few minutes for no reason. Finally around 1 p.m. I decided to check my blood sugar, and sure enough ... IT WAS VERY LOW, and your brain won’t let you sleep through hypoglycemia. Which means now I’m being clobbered with a double whammy of exhaustion ... severe lack of sleep coupled with trying to rebound from a blood sugar low. Basically, I just want my maid to go home already so I can take another nap!

You don’t need any other excuse to stay home and eat braunschweiger.

I’m thirsty, hungry, sleepy and cold ... but instead of my usual mid-morning whine-o-rama this post will focus on the following putrid weather forecast for Howdygram headquarters. The only upside to disgusting weather like this is YOU DON’T NEED ANY OTHER EXCUSE TO STAY HOME AND EAT BRAUNSCHWEIGER. We’re all going to freeze to death.

Coming soon to Mesquite: World-famous gas station tacos!

It’s a few minutes past 2 a.m., Sam just went to bed and I’m here in the study with a Marcytini, a small platoon of Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas and the Howdygram. Welcome to my world. I guess you’re stuck with me.

Childhood memories, winter soup inspiration and another dead celebrity.

Let’s begin today with celebrity news, okay? Apparently German-born actress Luise Rainer has passed away at age 104 of natural causes, because when you’re 104 even a hangnail could kill you. Until today she had been the oldest living Oscar-winner who wasn’t dead yet.

Rick Perry is the Howdygram’s 2014 Putz of the Year.

Welcome, boys and girls, to the Howdygram’s first-ever Putz of the Year Award! Our honoree for 2014 will be no surprise whatsoever if you’re a regular around here, since Governor Rick “Hairdo” Perry of Texas has been our Putz of the Week more often than any other right-wing asswipe on the planet. Behold his official magazine cover!

Happy New Year. Don’t freeze your ass off.

As if I needed another reason not to leave the house, we’re expecting some genuinely repulsive winter weather around here for New Year’s. The repulsive forecast pictured below includes repulsively cold temperatures starting NewYear’s Eve, SHITTY FREEZING RAIN on New Year’s Day and even more shitty rain on January 2. Plus, as an extra bonus at no additional charge, January 3 is lookin’ mighty shitty, too. Therefore Sam and I hereby announce our firm holiday plans to STAY HOME AND EAT A LOT OF FOOD, and to help prepare for our face-stuffing adventure Sam is already on his way to Costco with a neatly-typed list of favorites. Please pray for teeny tacos. They were out of them before Christmas.

Even if I watched “Ben-Hur” a thousand times I don’t think I could ever find fault with a single minute of it.

Warmest greetings from slumberland, where your celebrated Howdygram editrix has been gloriously semi-conscious since breakfast this morning. Translation: I’M FINALLY GETTING SOME GODDAMN SLEEP. Following my weekly Sausage McMuffin I went back to bed at 9 a.m. and slept until 12:30, ate a memorable lunch from Five Guys and conked out in the family room from 1:15 until 5, successfully sleeping through Murder at the Gallop (1963) starring Margaret Rutherford, Chocolat (2000) starring Juliette Binoche and Judi Dench, and The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984) starring Gregory Hines, Joan Rivers and a pile of puppets. THIS HAS BEEN A GLORIOUS DAY, enhanced even further by my favorite weekly cold leftover hot dog still waiting for me in the family room with extra pickles. Life doesn’t get much better than this, people. It just doesn’t.

If you sleep during “Jezebel” you can wake up to Henry Fonda’s face.

Yo and how’s-the-family from the vast winter wasteland of north Texas, y’all. The temperature outside has plummeted (damn, I love that word) into the 30s, I’m achy, drippy and crabby, I have a low-grade fever, I’ve been peeing a little too frequently and — most of all — I THINK I’M FREEZING TO DEATH. My hands feel like ice and I want Sam to light the fireplace. I can’t think of anything else that would warm me up right now except pizza or a pot of homemade soup, but since it’s already after 9 p.m. and I don’t feel well enough to screw around in the kitchen, somebody please order me a pizza. Thank you in advance for your overwhelming generosity.

Saturday morning comedy: Ella and Stella pantomime “Silent Night.”

Because there’s nothing quite like musical comedy to beat those post-holiday blues, the Howdygram is pleased to offer this unforgettable video clip of twins Ella and Stella Brown pantomiming “Silent Night” as sung by Perry Como. I’m dead serious. (Note: I don’t think they’re wearing shoes.)

Every single thing I bought from Amazon this year, reviewed.

In an effort to provide my readers with the most useful Howdygram experience possible, I will now review and rate every fucking thing I purchased from Amazon in 2014. Incidentally, this list does NOT include my monthly grocery orders from Amazon Prime Pantry because I’m pretty sure nobody cares how often we order Ziploc bags, butt wipes or paper towels. (You’re welcome.) Word of caution: This is the longest post in Howdygram history.

Tomorrow is another day. We will eat again.

It should come as no surprise to anybody that sleep is restorative. The more you get, the better you should feel ... especially if you start out feeling like total shit. Christmas Day was the perfect case in point for me, as I was quite under the weather first thing in the morning but then felt progressively less repulsive after two extended naps, the first from 10:30 a.m. to 4 p.m. and the second from 4:45 to 8:30 p.m. Due to my bizarre sleep schedule, however, I didn’t have an opportunity to eat the uninterrupted shrimp prophesied in my previous post nor did Sam and I consume any part of the Costco meatloaf and mashed potatoes I’d indicated in the “Tonight’s Dinner” feature in the Howdygram’s sidebar. The disappointment has been devastating, but tomorrow, as they say, is another day. WE WILL EAT AGAIN.

Enough shrimp can cure damn near anything.

Ready for the Howdygram’s official Christmas Day Kvetch Report? My complaints du jour include all of the following: 1) severe pain in my left knee; 2) muscle weakness in my left leg; 3) burning and “electric shocks” on the soles of my feet from diabetic neuropathy; 4) plantar fasciitis in my left heel; 5) crumpled-up hands from nerve damage and arthritis; 6) a headache; 7) low body temperature; 8) nasal congestion and watery eyes; and 9) a hangnail. In light of the above I plan to limit today’s activities to sleeping, watching holiday movies and eating as many shrimp as possible.

Happy Christmas. Sam and I hope you get a ton of fantastic loot and zero fruitcakes.

It’s 4:30 in the morning and I should be in bed, so sleep is my one and only goal as soon as I finish this Howdygram post. I know you’ll understand if I keep it brief ... but first I’d like to wish you A Really Happy Christmas if you’re of the goyishe persuasion. Sam and I hope you get a ton of fantastic loot and zero fruitcakes.

We’re all just elf-loving pagans at heart, right?

I’d like to begin this post with an extra-special Christmas Eve message to our pal Gayle in Michigan, who’s stuck in bed, sick as a dog with pneumonia and barfing her way through the holidays. Sam and I hope she’ll be up and around as soon as possible so all that brand new food from Trader Joe’s won’t be a total waste.

Costco ran out of teeny tacos. This is an outrage.

Merry Almost-Christmas Eve to my loyal and goyishe Howdygram readers! Sam kicked off the festivities this morning with trips to Wal-Mart to pick up prescriptions, to the dentist to find out why the hell they’re not sending him a bill and to Costco to purchase a large volume of our favorite tasty crap, including lots of ready-to-eat Tex-Mex things, grapefruit cups and maybe muffins. Unfortunately, after a brief Face Time interlude Sam just informed me that Costco ran out of our essential teeny tacos — THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! — so he’s substituting a tub of shrimp salad and a great big meatloaf entree with mashed potatoes. I am holding down the fort at home in the meantime with help from a regiment of Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas.

Product recalls just in time for Christmas. Ho-ho-holy crap.

The Howdygram would like to alert you to a few scary product recalls just in time for your holiday gift-giving adventures. If you already have one of these gems under the tree you might want to consider Plan B, such as breakfast at Denny’s and a couple of Russell Stover marshmallow Santas.

I’d vote for a “Governor Rick Perry ’72 Dr. Pepper Machine.” Wouldn’t you?

With your permission I’d like to provide an update to a news item from my December 16 post about Texas’ Governor Rick “Hairdo” Perry, the longest-serving and most-warranted Putz of the Week in Howdygram history. Apparently the Perry-appointed regents at Texas A&M University had announced a plan to honor their most famous and divisive underachieving grifter by renaming the school’s iconic Academic Building the “Governor Rick Perry ’72 Building.”

Fuck you, North Korea.

It’s 4:45 Monday afternoon. I crawled into bed for a nap just before Sam left for work at 2:15 but only managed to sleep for 45 minutes. While this is definitely a very shitty situation, I’m pleased to announce that the excruciating pain in my left leg has finally subsided somewhat, and I’m pretty sure I’d be able to conk out successfully on the chaise in the family room if I decide to shoot for another nap before dinner. Hold a good thought, okay? I hope to be unconscious within the next half-hour.

Sam went to the post office to mail a medium-sized thing.

Yo, everybody! This will be another achy, crappy, spaced-out day for yours truly due to unrelenting knee pain and only getting two hours of sleep (barely). It’s so bad that even Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas have no appeal. I’M DOOMED. All I want to do today is eat my leftover Long John Silver’s fish whatnots from Saturday and attempt to pass out on the chaise in the family room. In case you give a crap, it’s presently 10:30 a.m. and Sam is gallavanting around town doing some Monday morning errands, which include picking up prescriptions and a trip to the post office to mail a medium-sized thing.

Merry Hamburger Day to one and all. L’chaim!

In case you don’t have any meaningful activities planned for today I’d like to make a couple of suggestions, okay? First, this is NATIONAL HAMBURGER DAY and there’s still plenty of time for an appropriate celebration involving food and napkins. Sam had mentioned picking up Five Guys for lunch except (unfortunately) it’s already 3:45 in the afternoon, I just woke up from a four-hour nap and the closest meal at this point in time would be dinner. Those of you who think I just blew an opportunity, please raise your hand.

Agreeable fish, late soup and way too many naps.

Saturday at Howdygram headquarters is always an interesting mix of sloth, gluttony, expectation, disappointment and latent creativity. Pour yourself a Marcytini and I’ll explain, okay? (Take your time. I can wait.)

Recommendations from the Howdygram’s surgeon general.

I’m pretty much at a loss to explain this, but it’s 1:45 Saturday afternoon and I just woke up from a nap with ANOTHER DAMN HYPOGLYCEMIC EPISODE. This is happening at least once a day for the last couple of weeks even though I’m injecting less insulin at night and at mealtimes to try and avoid it. MAYBE I SHOULD EAT A BUCKET OF FRENCH FRIES! (Okay, just kidding.) While I occasionally enjoy the out-of-body experience of clammy inebriation that accompanies the earlier stages of hypoglycemia, it can also be a quick and scary evolution from “low” to “diabetic coma.” At the moment I’m just “low” but should probably consider eating food before this gets any worse. My blood glucose is 56. I HATE DIABETES.

There’s always a silver lining, people.

So here I am at 6 in the morning feeling way too crappy to sleep because I can’t get comfortable in bed when my knees and legs hurt like this. To distract myself during the last several hours, therefore, I’ve been tweaking colors in my Howdygram sidebar graphics and fondling the Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas I received yesterday from my girlfriend Gayle. There’s always a silver lining, people. ALWAYS.

Hanukkah does not involve Baby Jesus in any way whatsoever.

Because nobody probably gives a crap about this except me, I’d be willing to bet you and your loved ones haven’t noticed the monumental changes I made to the Howdygram tonight. Give up? I lightened the gray text in the posts and switched to a darker shade of blue for the headlines and links. (There was no particular reason for any of this. I think I was bored.)

Low blood sugar makes me feel inebriated and I write really strange Howdygram posts this way.

Hi, people. How the hell are you? It’s 5 in the afternoon and my blood sugar is way too low again, but I figure I’ll just ride with it for a while because low blood sugar makes me feel inebriated and I write really strange Howdygram posts this way. So sit back and enjoy the show before I have to shlep into the kitchen to make dinner.

I’m having severe side effects and didn’t even know it.

It’s an altogether rotten Thursday morning here in north Texas, about 44° with drizzle, low clouds and fog. Right off the bat I think you should know that I REFUSE TO LEAVE THE HOUSE TODAY, although that’s a rather pointless declaration since I never leave the house, anyway. It’s presently 9:30 a.m. and Sam is at the dentist getting his teeth cleaned. (All of them.) For your possible interest the following map indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) the dentist’s office; and C) McDonald’s at Belt Line on the I-30 service road where Sam buys my Saturday morning Sausage McMuffin.

It’s time for the latest chapter of “Sam Goes to Costco.”

I didn’t want to write another whiny middle-of-the-night Howdygram post, but what the hell ... it is what it is. My knees hurt, my feet are full of electric shocks and I haven’t been able to fall asleep even though I tried. Whenever this happens I always migrate into the study, yank a teeny bottle of Coke Zero from the mini fridge and sit at my desk so I won’t flop around in bed and annoy Sam. So that’s why I’m here in case you’re wondering. It’s 4 a.m.

Happy Hanukkah to you and yours.

First of all, Happy Hanukkah to you and yours from ABSOLUTELY EVERYBODY at Howdygram headquarters. This would include: 1) me; 2) Sam; and 3) I think that’s it. May your holiday be filled with latkes and applesauce!

Finding the cheapest gas in Texas.

Know what happens when I’m cold? THIS.

Our latest Putz of the Week is Kory Watkins, an anorexic douchebag in a combat fedora.

Yo from Howdygram headquarters, people. It’s Sunday night and I just woke up from another extended nap to write a quick post before I join Sam in the family room for popcorn and a couple of our favorite movies. The popcorn is Pop Secret; the movies are The Talk of the Town (1942) starring Jean Arthur, Cary Grant and Ronald Colman and The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947) starring a whole bunch of fabulous people such as Cary Grant, Myrna Loy and Shirley Temple. I LOVE SUNDAY NIGHTS!

Do not trifle with me, people. I’m an Amazon Prime member.

It’s 6:55 Sunday morning. The house is quiet, Sam is on his way to McDonald’s to buy me a Sausage McMuffin and I’ve got A STEAMING PILE OF AMAZING NEWS to share with you! Here goes.

Senior citizens should never ignore a craving for greasy fish.

It’s 3:30 Saturday morning. I tried to go to bed at 2 with Sam but I never fell asleep because I’m feeling especially crappy right now. My current complaints include: 1) foot pain; 2) shin pain; 3) a repulsive wet rash in various locations on my body; and 4) I think that’s enough. If I get really tired at some point I might migrate to the chaise in the family room, but for now I’ll just hang out here with you. Thank you for putting up with me.

Weather.com is like a psycho middle school boyfriend who only tells you shit he thinks you want to hear.

Yo! Sam was out and about this morning with a “honey-do” list while I held down the fort here at Howdygram headquarters. Fort-holding-down demands no particular skill whatsoever and usually only requires not spilling my Marcytini, staying awake and answering the phone if anybody calls. And in case you’re interested, Sam’s errands included a drop-off at the dry cleaner, driving past the post office to mail our holiday cards and a trip to Tom Thumb for sugar-free Jell-O cups, teeny bottles of Coke Zero for the mini-fridge in the study and a juicy, ready-to-eat turkey breast (see below) on sale for $8.99. Yum, right?

A mental hospital is the perfect address for gun rights activists.

Know why I didn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday? BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO. Actually, I might be lying a little. I really DID want to but I got caught up in a bunch of other baloney that included all of the following: 1) blowing off my 9:30 a.m. appointment with Dr. M due to getting zero sleep the night before and feeling like total shit; 2) designing, printing and addressing our Hanukkah and generic nondenominational unoffensive seasons greetings cards; 3) a four-hour nap directly related to item number one; 4) a late afternoon hypoglycemic episode; and 5) watching Wednesday’s recorded episode of “Top Chef,” during which Adam got eliminated for serving the judges squeaky uncooked shrimp and George rejoined the cast after a sudden death cookoff against Katie, who made a clearly lousy braised rabbit.

Rick Perry’s views on income inequality in Texas: “We don’t grapple with that here.”

It finally happened, guys. I HAD A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN TODAY. Trying to catch up after another sleepless night I was attempting my daily early afternoon nap in the family room ... and THE GODDAMN PHONE WOULDN’T STOP RINGING. There were three calls in a row less five minutes apart — all PRE-RECORDED BULLSHIT about Life Alert or senior citizen crap — until I started shrieking for Sam to disconnect the phone before I rip it out of the wall and throw it through a plate glass window. As soon as he figured out how to silence the ringer on both cordless handsets I slept until 4 p.m., uninterrupted. It was GLORIOUS.

Old age isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be, people.

Hi, guys. I’ve had a fun-filled, jam-packed day that included a juicy nap immediately following lunch with Sam, cleaning out two big cabinets in the study and ordering some fun crapola from Amazon. The fun crapola is pictured below. First, a big package of nice 24-lb. Epson inkjet paper for my new Epson inkjet printer and a package of fancy-ass foil-lined A7 envelopes to go with my holiday cards. I always make my own.

This might be an excellent moment in time for Tiger Woods to consider a few other career options.

I’m not a multi-tasker and it’s always been really hard for me to do more than one thing at a time. Such as RIGHT NOW, for instance. After Sam went to bed a couple of hours ago I had an overwhelming creative urge to horse around with the Howdygram but also thought it might be a fine time to install the new Epson WorkForce 3640 printer/scanner drivers and utility software on Sam’s iMac, which is practically the same as my iMac except a lot fewer fonts and he’s got crumbs on his keyboard. Also coffee.

My Epson WorkForce 3640 printer could be my new best friend.

It’s late Sunday night, Sam is in the family room — unconscious, probably — watching The Lemon Drop Kid (1951) starring Bob Hope and Marilyn Maxwell, one of our favorite holiday movies. Actually, I love Bob Hope in just about anything with the exception being 1956’s The Iron Petticoat co-starring Katharine Hepburn, a atrocious stab at a cold war comedy that makes Attack of the Crab Monsters look like Ben-Hur. Earlier tonight we also watched The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942) starring Bette Davis, Monty Woolley and Ann Sheridan. A large volume of popcorn accompanied these activities.

Saturday night included spectacular goyishe Christmas lights and a pleasant trip to Eatzi’s.

Here’s some huge, juicy breaking news from our Guess Which Senior Citizen Finally Hauled Her Creaky Ass Out of the House department! Sam and I actually drove into Dallas last night and looked at some spectacular goyishe Christmas lights in the Highland Park neighborhood. Here are a few samples in case you give a crap.

Cheap Epson photo paper is nothing at which to sneeze in any way whatsoever.

You might not believe this, but I never got around to writing a post yesterday because the entire day was packed with too many other compelling things to do! For instance: 1) a really wet shower with hot water; 2) lunch; 3) a three-hour nap; 4) dinner; and 5) watching Sam sleep through two fine movies. These were: White Cargo (1942), a hilariously atrocious misery festival set in 1910 on a sweaty African rubber plantation starring Walter Pidgeon, Richard Carlson and Hedy Lamarr; and Advise & Consent (1962), an Otto Preminger drama/mystery/thriller gem about bullshit in the U.S. Senate starring nearly everybody in Hollywood.

I’m having a perfect Thursday. Homemade soup and a Hayley Mills movie.

Hi, guys. It’s a dark and dismal Thursday afternoon at Howdygram headquarters with no activities of any interest whatsoever except a BIG FAT POT OF HOMEMADE SOUP. Today I made Easy Beef Leftover Thanksgiving Turkey Vegetable Soup for Senior Citizens, and I’m pleased to report there’s enough for a guest if you’d like to drop in for a few minutes with your own spoon. SOUP IS THE BEST FOOD ON EARTH not counting Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas and once in a while braunschweiger.

Our latest Putz of the Week is a right-wing Texas legislator who wants to invalidate federal laws.

It’s 1 a.m. on Wednesday morning and Sam is in bed. I’d be in bed, too, except I spent all day Tuesday unconscious in the family room. This was thoroughly pleasant but seriously unproductive, although I did spring back to life in time for dinner and a creepy old movie on DVD. We watched The Old Dark House (1932) starring Boris Karloff, Melvyn Douglas, Gloria Stuart, Raymond Massey and Charles Laughton, a weird and scary atmospheric thing directed by James Whale, who did the original Frankenstein (1931) and The Invisible Man (1933).

Glorioski and holy crap, people! Marcy bought a printer!

Hot on the heels of The Pointless Shitty Envelope Adventure of 2014 [see post] I decided a couple of hours ago to request a divorce from my four-year-old pain-in-the-ass Epson WorkForce 635 printer for failure to perform at any level whatosever. The nice white A7-size envelopes I ordered from Amazon — to replace the grainy “grocery bag” envelopes that jammed nonstop on Sunday — arrived this afternoon, and they won’t feed into this damn thing, either. Plus the entire printhead is out of alignment now and everything that actually prints is TOTALLY COCKEYED. So ... I paid a quick visit to Amazon, read a few thousand customer reviews and ordered myself a brand new Epson WorkForce 3640. GLORIOSKI AND HOLY CRAP, PEOPLE! MARCY BOUGHT A PRINTER!

Errands, seasonal appetizers and two fine actors doing comedy.

You know what sucks? When it’s 4:30 in the morning and you can’t fall asleep even though you’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open. Like RIGHT NOW, for instance. I’m not sure why this is happening for the third night in a row, but I might decide to haul my body to the chaise in the family room any minute now because I always sleep like a rock on the chaise. (If I stop typing all of a sudden you’ll know why.) In the meantime I’ve been Googling friends from the past to amuse myself, with the unfortunate outcome that several of them are DEAD. Holy crap, right?

I need a cheeseburger to recover from The Pointless Shitty Envelope Adventure of 2014.

It’s been quite a day around here, people. Pour yourself a nice Marcytini while I tell you all about The Pointless Shitty Envelope Adventure of 2014.

December is Cary Grant month on TCM.

Happy Sunday morning, people. Even though I’m feeling moderately crappy today I’ll do my duty as a housebound retiree to announce that DECEMBER IS CARY GRANT MONTH on Turner Classic Movies and everybody should record and watch as many of these films as possible every Monday all month long, starting tomorrow! Here’s a comprehensive list organized by date; the teeny red stars indicate Howdygram favorites.

At least I have health insurance. Without it I could wind up sleeping under a bridge.

Yo, people. It’s 7 a.m. and I’d still be in bed right now except for DAMN DIABETES, because low blood sugar always wakes me up. What a life, right? At the present time my BGL (blood glucose) is 60, but with an appropriate level of pestering maybe I’ll convince Sam to buy me a Sausage McMuffin when he wakes up. (Hold a good thought.)

Don’t forget cheap foil pans, cheap cream of mushroom soup and cheap Christmas elves at Dollar Tree.

Believe it or not, it was my plan to write a second Howdygram post yesterday — BLACK FRIDAY! — but I didn’t find time to sneak it in between 11½ hours of naps. THAT IS NOT A TYPO. My first nap of the day commenced at 9:15 in the morning and lasted until 2:30. I slept again from 4 until 7, ate dinner, and conked out again from 8:15 until 11:30, at which time I decided to take a nice hot shower, shlep into the study and consume a couple of Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas. In case you’re interested, Sam napped even more than I did on Friday and together we managed to sleep through several excellent movies, including: The Secret Life of Walter Mitty (1947) starring Danny Kaye and Virginia Mayo; Dial M for Murder (1954) starring Grace Kelly and Ray Milland; and Trader Horn (1931) starring Harry Carey, Duncan Renaldo and Edwina Booth as a “white savage.”

Are you shopping? Are you spending? Are you having any fun?

So here’s what’s happening at 4 a.m. on the day after Thanksgiving: NOTHING WHATSOEVER. I tried going to bed a couple of hours ago but that didn’t work out very well; I got up about 30 minutes later and moved my carcass into the study to read, horse around online and drink a Marcytini. I figure I’ll hang out here and annoy you until I’m ready to get some sleep, maybe another hour or so. (You can thank me later.)

Eating, belching and sleeping. Another perfect Thanksgiving bites the dust.

This had to be Howdygram headquarters’ fastest and most forgettable Thanksgiving on record. After Sam consumed his annual apple pie as an hors d’oeuvres at 2 p.m., we ate our official meal at 3:30, belched for 14 minutes and fell asleep watching Angels in the Outfield (1951) starring Paul Douglas and Janet Leigh. At some point I vaguely remember muttering to Sam about wrapping the rest of the turkey in foil and shoving it in the fridge, and apparently he heard me because that’s where it ended up.

Marshmallow Santas are the only healthy snack I can eat in the middle of the night without teeth.

It’s 3:45 a.m., Sam is asleep and I’m enjoying a pleasant Howdygram interlude with Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas and a Marcytini. I’ll probably go back to bed eventually, but for now I’m perfectly okay with this arrangement due to marshmallow Santas being the only healthy snack I can eat in the middle of the night without teeth.

I don’t feel well enough to cook anything in case you want to send me a pizza or Mongolian chicken.

I knew it was probably too good to last. After no new ailments since recovering from last weekend’s twisted hip hoo-hah I FEEL REALLY CRAPPY TODAY just in time for Thanksgiving. My throat is raspy, I’m congested on & off, and my body temperature is only 95.5° — holy shit! HYPOTHERMIA! — which feels like I’m freezing to death from the inside out. Plus it’s almost time for dinner and I’M VERY, VERY HUNGRY but don’t feel well enough to cook anything in case you want to send me a pizza or Mongolian chicken. Thank you in advance for your consideration and generosity.

You’ll always find the asshole of the day shooting his mouth off in the comments section.

And the big news at 4:30 in the morning is ... I JUST FOUND MY STYLING WAX ON AMAZON FOR THE SAME LOW PRICE AS WAL-MART. You know, for my new Judi Dench haircut. Except on Amazon it’s considered an “Add-On” product (too small and cheap to ship on its own) so I had to buy a few additional whatnots to bring my shopping cart total to at least $25. Trust me, that’s easy. It took less than 90 seconds due to always having assorted crap idling on my “save for later” page. So here’s what I finally ordered: two twin-packs of excellent Pilot G2 blue fine point gel pens; 50 sheets of Epson double-sided matte presentation paper (actually, it’s card stock); a pack of 50 A7-size kraft envelopes; and, of course, the aforementioned FX Molding Wax for adorable hair.

This is the “Judi-Denchiest” haircut I’ve had in years.

Holy crap, everybody ... I LOVE MY HOUSE CALL HAIR STYLIST! Noell’s visit only lasted 19 minutes from start to finish today but this is the “Judi-Denchiest” haircut (that’s Judi Dench in the teeny photo at right) I’ve had in YEARS, and I’m so excited I’ve been shopping around online for a cheap but effective styling wax so I can get some spiky things going on. Years ago I used a nice little product by American Crew but their prices are OUTRAGEOUS now, and since I never leave the house I really can’t justify blowing $18 on a little tin of pomade so I can sit on the sofa with cute hair and watch a Myrna Loy movie. Therefore I think I’ve finally settled on FX Molding Wax because it’s only four bucks online from Wal-Mart and I’ll be able to piggyback it with my next order for pickles and toilet paper.

It’s time once again for Sam & Marcy’s Annual Untraditional Thanksgiving Hoo-hah.

Hello again. It’s almost 7 a.m. and I’ve been sitting here in the study since 4:15 for two very good reasons: 1) it’s impossible to sleep with a stuffed nose; and 2) shitty feet. I’ve managed to fritter away a decent chunk of the last three hours redesigning and uploading the Howdygram’s attractive little subheads (see below) and blowing my nose. On the plus side, thank God the twisted hip pain I reported on Sunday finally subsided because a senior citizen can only stand so much aggravation.

For the right price you can get people to do damn near anything.

I can’t believe I waited all damn day to write this post because I actually started thinking about it at 9:30 this morning. Old age, a three-hour nap and William Powell movies — known around here as The Senior Citizen Trifecta — can be a real ambition-killer for housebound retirees with shitty knees.

There’s no way I’ll ever be able to fly again. (I’m not too thrilled about cars, either.)

Hi, people. We’re winding down a surprisingly pleasant, productive and thoroughly enjoyable Sunday afternoon at Howdygram headquarters that included all of the following activities: 1) four substantial loads of laundry; 2) a sock-folding party; 3) unpacking, admiring and putting away the contents of six deliveries from Amazon and Wal-Mart; 4) a large bowl of Marcy’s Famous One-Pot Asian Food Feast for Senior Citizens; and 5) a swell afternoon nap that lasted THREE GLORIOUS HOURS. And it’s 75° here.

Ancient diseases are still the scariest diseases.

Happy Sunday morning to one and all. I have no special agenda today except for a great deal of laundry and watching Sam open and unpack a week’s worth of deliveries from Amazon and Wal-Mart so we can get all that awesome crap put away. Other than that we’ll either be: 1) sleeping; or 2) eating things. We have a very uncomplicated life.

Sam plans to eat a whole apple pie on Thanksgiving with a can of Redi Whip. I get to watch.

It’s 10:45 Saturday morning here at Howdygram headquarters. With heavy rain and severe thunderstorms still several hours away — the latest forecast is pushing this to 5 p.m. — Sam is outside raking up leaves in the front yard, after which he’ll be heading out on a Costco adventure to pick up our favorite provisions. These include: 1) six cans of canned chicken; 2) a great big box of grapefruit cups; 3) breakfast burritos; 4) chicken flautas; and 5) two twin-packs of teeny chicken tacos. Sam has decided to skip the giant muffins this week as he plans to eat a whole apple pie on Thanksgiving with a can of Redi Whip. AND I GET TO WATCH!

Only in Texas! Next year public school textbooks will include Moses as one of the Founding Fathers.

It’s 4:45 Saturday morning and WE’RE STILL WAITING FOR THE RAIN that was supposed to be here yesterday at 9 a.m. During the last 20 hours we’ve watched the forecast change from 9 a.m. to noon, then 3 p.m., 6 p.m., 9 p.m. and midnight. Last night when Sam and I went to bed the hourly forecast pushed the thunderstorms to 3:30 a.m. Saturday, but even THAT didn’t come to pass. The latest guess from the lying sacks of poo at Weather.com is light rain starting at 10 a.m. What a clusterfuck. THESE PEOPLE ARE ON MY LAST GOOD NERVE.

Fuck America’s new favorite phrase: “Paid administrative leave.”

I knew it was too good be true, guys. All that drought-busting rain we were promised today [see post] keeps getting pushed back in two-hour increments. According to the latest bullshit from Weather.com, the downpour we expected this morning at 9 is now rescheduled for midnight tonight. I thought meteorology was a science. Why is it so damn hard for these clowns to predict routine weather?

An Einstein Award and the best mugshot ever.

It’s 4:20 in the morning. I woke up about half an hour ago for my middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure and decided to spend a little time hanging out with the Howdygram because it grieves me to report that I’m not feeling particularly well at the moment. Here is a comprehensive list of my complaints in no particular order whatsoever.

President Obama will address the nation tonight. Tune in to watch Republican heads explode.

It’s still Thursday and this is my third Howdygram post today. If I haven’t made amends for not posting yesterday you’re just a hopeless ingrate and I’m through with you.

The weekend forecast: Thunderstorms, Hershey’s chocolate and a Roger Corman sci-fi dreckfest.

A couple of important developments! First, in case you’ve been working on your rain dance for drought-stricken Texas I thought you might get excited by our latest weather forecast. We’re finally expecting a lot of rain Friday night and all day Saturday, most of which will include THUNDER, LIGHTNING and a variety of SEVERE THINGS, as promised by the scary red exclamation point in the graphic below.

Reasons why I didn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday. In four indented paragraphs.

The blogging gods were against me yesterday. I tried ALL DAMN DAY to write this post but a variety of annoying crap and aggravation wouldn’t let me. A complete explanation appears below in nicely-organized, indented paragraphs. (You’re welcome.)

Sam, our talented and good-looking negotiator, scores a big win.

I’m freezing. I usually shower every night at bedtime, but I’m so damn cold right now I might have to take the plunge before dinner and then point the hair dryer at my entire body to warm up when I’m done. Holy crap ... this whole “winter” thing is really PISSING ME OFF and it’s only the middle of November.

I’m mad about Wal-Mart’s mentally ill shipping procedures.

I slept very, very badly last night. Here’s the basic rundown for your possible interest: I went to bed at 2:30 a.m., woke up at 5:30 with low blood sugar, parked myself in the study with a teeny bottle of Coke Zero until 6:50, went back to bed at 6:52, thrashed around for an hour freezing to death because Sam was hogging the blanket, and now I’m back in the study thinking about breakfast. I’m pooped, people. I NEED SLEEP AND I NEED IT NOW. Holy crap.

We hate 24-Hour Fitness and so should you.

Hello, people, and welcome to the Howdygram!

The Great Monday Morning Stuffing Conundrum.

I’ll begin this post a riddle: WHEN IS A BARGAIN JUST AN OLD LADY BLOGGER’S LAPSE IN JUDGMENT? The answer? When you’re so hysterical about ordering Stove Top stuffing from Amazon that you don’t actually bother to read the product description and wind up with a DOUBLE DEAL. In case you give a crap, here’s exactly what happened. Let’s call it The Great Monday Morning Stuffing Conundrum.

I was a very well-rounded child, musically.

It’s 4:15 a.m. and Sam is in bed, so it’s just you, me, the Howdygram and a box of Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas. Life is good.

Everybody hum “Happy Birthday” to the Prince of Wales!

We sincerely hope the Royal Family will forgive yesterday’s oversight, but the Howdygram forgot to wish Prince Charles a very happy birthday as he enters his golden years.

Apparently a half-naked Soviet midget wants to fly war planes in the Gulf of Mexico.

This has been a strange and moderately shitty day so far, driven by lack of sleep, dismal weather and godawful knee pain. On the plus side, however, the customer service geniuses at Amazon shipped my Morton’s popcorn salt FedEx overnight AT NO EXTRA CHARGE and it’s already on the truck for delivery today. I think I must be the luckiest senior citizen in the world. OVERNIGHT POPCORN SALT!

The Howdygram recommends two movies with confused characters and atrocious accents.

Shalom, howdy and good afternoon, people! It’s another damn chilly day in Howdygramland, about 36° as I write this post, but I’m warmed by the anticipation of another nap as soon as I can drag my ass back into the family room. I only had TWO SHITTY HOURS OF SLEEP last night and I’m attempting to make up for lost time. Try to keep the noise down, okay? I am very, very unpleasant when I’m exhausted.

A nicely-written timeline of Wednesday, November 12. Hang on for the wild ride.

We’ve got a very cold, very overcast, VERY windy afternoon here in north Texas. Specifically, it’s 39° with the wind gusting to 38 m.p.h., creating a totally perfect reason to hibernate with a nice big plate of kishka, Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas and Torch Song, the 1953  “cult” classic starring Joan Crawford as a desperate, ball-busting, middle-aged Broadway star with an outrageous Technicolor wardrobe who chews scenery and stomps her way through musical numbers like a Clydesdale in fishnet stockings. If you think I’m kidding, check out this video. It’s Joan — in blackface, if you can believe it — with her voice dubbed by India Adams. (Too bad you can’t dub that atrocious dancing.)

How to get surprise deep-dish Chicago-style pizza for no reason whatsoever.

My buddy Gayle got me thinking about turkey this afternoon and triggered the inevitable EMERGENCY HOLY CRAP FOOD CRAVING, which means I’ll have to throw together my World-Famous Senior Citizen Thanksgiving Bowl tonight for dinner because — sadly — I don’t know what time UPS will show up today with my crate of latkes and kishka from Kenny & Ziggy’s deli in Houston. Sometimes UPS gets here by 6 p.m. but usually not until 7 or 8, and I’d definitely wind up in a hypoglycemic coma if I wait that long to eat things. I guess I can always do kishka for dessert, right?

My movie picks for the week include “Torch Song” starring Joan Crawford.

Because I can’t think of anything to write at the present time I’ll focus this post on some TCM viewing recommendations for the next few days.

Rick Perry believes that “abortion is a men’s rights issue.”

Know what? After the dizzying stupor surrounding my birthday on November 1 it seems that I’ve neglected to acknowledge a couple of MOMENTOUS MILESTONES this month! First, on November 8 my parents would have been married for 72 years if my dad were still alive, and a copy of their wedding portrait appears below for your possible interest. Mom and dad were posing in the lobby of the Belden-Stratford Hotel in Chicago; six months later dad would be on his way overseas with the Army Air Corps. Mom, in case you’re wondering, currently lives in a nursing facility in suburban Chicago. She’ll be 92 at the end of the month.

Winter Storm Astro? Shovel it and let’s move on!

Batten down the hatches, everybody ... AIRMAGEDDON is on the way! Those hysterical whack-job spin doctors at Weather.com are calling this one Winter Storm Astro, but we know what it really is: REGULAR COLD WEATHER. Do they seriously think the United States will have a brain hemorrhage about snow in Minneapolis and Michigan? It ALWAYS snows in Minneapolis and Michigan! It’s the middle of November, you dickheads, NOT THE MIDDLE OF JUNE. Shovel it and let’s move on!

Pancakes, cleavage, pudding and crappy meatballs: How to celebrate Veterans Day.

It’s Monday morning at Howdygram headquarters and I’m pleased to report that Sam finally went to bed at 7:45 a.m. after working almost 24 straight hours, nearly half of it downtown at the office. Whether or not he actually goes back to work this afternoon remains to be seen because he looks and feels like the walking dead. Shaving might help. Also a nice hot meal.

There’s nothing worse than a shitty Elvis impersonator.

It’s 8:30 Sunday night and Sam has been downtown at the office since lunch time. To tell you the truth he’s been gone so long I almost don’t remember what he looks like. To amuse myself in the meantime I’ve got some exciting features to share with you. Enjoy.

Grab a beer and a knockwurst ... let’s celebrate the 25th birthday of everybody kicking down the Berlin Wall!

You know what’s a huge and stupid waste of time? Spending a day and a half redesigning all the graphics in the Howdygram including the banner (four times), eventually deciding you hate everything you did and then switching it back to exactly the way it looked in the first place. At the moment I feel discombobulated, disappointed and unproductive after blowing practically two whole days on this pointless horseshit. Worse yet, I DIDN’T WRITE ANY HOWDYGRAM POSTS because I can’t wear “designer” and “blogger” hats at the same time. Also, I hate hats.

I’m glad that crap is over. It’s great to be back.

Sam loves latkes but won’t eat kishka. More for me!

Happy Friday, boys and girls, and welcome to the Howdygram’s SNACKPOCALYPSE, which happens every time yours truly wakes up hungry. Like today, for instance! Therefore I felt compelled to order a large volume of Kenny & Ziggy’s latkes and kishka from FoodyDirect, pictured below, for overnight delivery via UPS on Tuesday in a nice big box. In case you’re interested, Sam loves latkes but won’t eat kishka. MORE FOR ME!

Design tweaks, disappointment and a tidbit from our Apparently Not All Politicians Suck department.

It’s no wonder why I’ve always got so damn much chronic pain: I DON’T GET ENOUGH SLEEP. Holy crap, right? Aside from ongoing exhaustion, my complaints du jour also include watery eyes, a runny nose, shitty burning feet, shitty stiff knees, shitty crippled hands and zero motivation to empty the dishwasher.

I think King China’s egg rolls taste like feet.

I lied to you yesterday. TWO TIMES. First, I never wrote an additional Howdygram post because Sam got home from work four hours earlier than I expected and — please don’t be offended — I’d rather hang out with him than sit at my desk typing baloney. And second, I decided not to cook last night after all due to a hypoglycemic hoo-hah around 6:30 and wound up ordering dinner instead from King China. This included Orange Shrimp, Mu Shu Shrimp with extra hoisin sauce, hot & sour soup, three egg rolls and zero rice because I have diabetes. Most of this is in the fridge leftover for tomorrow.

Soup is the answer to everything.

I’ve got some frightening news for you. It’s 3:45 in the afternoon and, due to lots of naps, I haven’t eaten a meal yet today. NOT A SINGLE CRUMB. Not even a snack! However as soon as my maid leaves — I’m guessing within the next 15 minutes — I’ll immediately throw together a nice big pot of Marcy’s Famous One-Pot Asian Food Feast for Senior Citizens because it’s cold outside and raining, starvation can’t continue forever and soup is the answer to EVERYTHING.

Mazel tov, America. You elected the government you deserve.

I’m really sleepy but I thought I’d squeeze out one more quick Howdygram post before I finally go to bed. Since yesterday was Election Day, my first order of business will be obvious.

I’m the senior citizen in a purple robe waving out the window.

There’s nothing whatsoever happening here right now except a lot of rain. It’s not as heavy as the lying sacks of poo at Weather.com originally forecast but it’s rain nonetheless and we’ll take whatever we can get due to OUR SHITTY THREE-YEAR DROUGHT. The teeny red star on the map below indicates Howdygram headquarters. If you zoom in, I’m the senior citizen in a purple robe waving out the window. (I’ll turn on a lamp after 6 p.m. so you can still see me.)

The Obnoxious Bleeding Shin Incident.

It’s a few minutes after 10 and I just get a phone call from Sam who tells me he might be late coming home from work tonight. That news is lousy enough all by itself until he also mentions they’re expecting clients in-house this week and he’ll have to work THREE CONSECUTIVE ALL-NIGHTERS — Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday — starting at 4 p.m. until the goddamn sun comes up.

Tomorrow is Election Day.

Please vote for Democrats or I’ll have to beat the crap out of you with my cane. Thank you for reading this.

How the hell can anybody not love Margaret Rutherford?

It’s 8:30 Monday morning and I’ve already been awake for more than FOUR STINKING HOURS. Four hours! To keep from blowing my brains out I guess I’ll just launch into a Howdygram post and go with the flow. Thank you for putting up with me.

My life doesn’t usually work out like a normal person.

You’d think a creaky senior citizen like yours truly would be pleased to get an extra hour of sleep — no strings attached — with the end of Daylight Savings Time, but my life doesn’t usually work out like a normal person. Breaking with my typical morning routine I sit bolt upright in bed at 5 a.m. and announce to Sam that I have to take a shower. He volunteers to turn the water on for me, but while I wait on the edge of the bed I realize I’ve got a major hypoglycemic episode going on and I think I might pass out. I have to shift gears FAST.

I’m officially seven hours and 14 minutes into my 64th year of life on Earth.

Happy birthday to me! According to the clock on my computer I’m officially seven hours and 14 minutes into my 64th year of life on Earth.

The celebration today will mostly revolve around a steady parade of terrific shit to eat as soon as Sam gets home with my Sausage McMuffin, which will be followed immediately by two Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow pumpkins. Remember ... CONTINUOUS EATING IS THE KEY TO A LONG AND JOYOUS FUTURE. Whoa, I just made that up!

Texas is still fighting an extreme drought. We might have to start bathing with friends.

Holy crap (again). I DON’T SLEEP WELL ANY MORE. I got up this morning (again) two hours before dawn with pain in my feet and knees EXACTLY THE SAME AS YESTERDAY ... except this time with the added excitement of hypoglycemia, which has been happening more often than I care to admit. So while I waited for Sam to wake up I killed a substantial chunk of time with a Glucerna vanilla milkshake for old broads with diabetes and fantasizied about Pop Secret with Movie Theater Butter. (Low blood sugar can do scary shit to a person’s brain. Trust me.)

Happy Halloween, y’all.

It’s 3:30 in the morning and I can’t sleep (believe me, I tried) so I thought I’d hang out with the Howdygram for a few minutes. But before I forget ...

I am a well-rested invalid zombie with a deranged bladder.

It’s 7:30 a.m. and I don’t want to write this post. I’m tired, I’m crabby, I’ve got watery eyes, my shitty knees hurt (my shitty knees ALWAYS hurt) and the bottoms of my feet burn. I’d rather be in bed or — better yet — stretched out on the chaise in the family room drifting off to sleep with one of my favorite napping movies, most likely something with Margaret Rutherford, whose little face appears at left for your possible interest.

Democrats are definitely nicer than Republicans and way better for the United States of America.

A couple of things. First, here’s an extremely cute “feel-good” video of a manicky dog who just discovered that it’s huge fun to bounce on a bed.

Double bonus points are a huge fucking deal for old people.

Listen up, guys! Yesterday was A RECORD-BREAKING DAY IN HOWDYGRAMLAND! The Howdygram had 743 unique visitors and 891 pageviews after everybody on earth clicked a link to this post from a comment I wrote about Bristol Palin on Jezebel.com. Holy crap! I’m speechless! I’m dumbfounded! I’m popular! I’M HUNGRY!

Basil Rathbone was hot.

Holy crap, I do NOT feel well right now. My hands and feet are burning due to diabetic peripheral neuropathy, my leg muscles ache, my knees hurt, my right arm is stiff as a board, I’ve got electric shocks in my bunions, my blood sugar has been consistently way too low since yesterday morning and — worst of all — IT’S THE MIDDLE OF THE FUCKING NIGHT AND I’M WIDE AWAKE. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve been back and forth to bed three times but keep waking up either in pain or, like right now, with HYPOGLYCEMIA. This is one of the crappiest nights I’ve ever had. Thank God Sam is planning a Costco adventure this morning because NOTHING MAKES ME FEEL BETTER THAN TEENY TACOS. (Except possibly drugs.)

We ran out of silverware yesterday.

Howdygram headquarters is brimming with all kinds of important crap today! I’ll list everything for you below in cleverly-subtitled paragraphs so you’ll know what’s what.

I dreamed about Charlton Heston last night. If you can explain this, please let me know.

Sam and I both woke up at 5:30 this morning for totally different reasons. He’s “on call” today at work and had to turn on his company iPhone to monitor incoming emails and I was in the middle of a hypoglycemic episode. Happy Sunday, everybody!

Ebola. We almost had a chance to stop panicking.

I love Saturday mornings! It’s just a few minutes past 6 a.m., Sam is on his way to McDonald’s to buy me a Sausage McMuffin and I’m parked at my desk working on a Howdygram post because THIS IS MY FAVORITE THING TO DO not counting long naps, eating things and insulin injections. (I might be kidding about that last one.)

The Wasilla Hillbillies crash a party.

It was my original intent to include an Einstein Award in my last post but I didn’t want to overload everybody with too much of a good thing — you’re welcome — so I’ll post it now instead.

Voter fraud, immigration fraud, welfare fraud and rape fraud. It’s a scary world out there for the right wing, isn’t it?

Following the world’s longest afternoon nap — a full 6½ hours that actually commenced at 10:30 this morning — I’m feeling perky, creative, feisty, really hungry plus mildly “inebriated” due to impending hypoglycemia. I ordered dinner online a couple of minutes ago. I’ll take a break from this post when the doorbell rings but you’ll have my undivided attention in the meantime. As a quick preview, tonight’s Howdygram post will include many of our most popular features, including a PUTZ OF THE WEEK, a HEARTWARMING VIDEO clip, CRAP YOU SHOULD BUY and WEATHER COMMENTARY along with the usual assortment of entertaining horseshit. This is your lucky day!

I get to rip up an invoice and anticipate tartar sauce all at the same time.

Sam and I don’t receive many bills, so it was a huge and lousy shock today to get an invoice from HealthTexas Provider Network for $25 related to my last office visit with Dr. M at the beginning of September. My first instinct, of course is to freak out all over the house because we’ve had Blue Cross for decades AND WEVE NEVER OWED A DIME beyond the regular co-pay for an office visit with the usual routine lab crap (i.e., bleeding into tubes and a pee-pee sample). My second instinct is to get really mad, assuming THIS IS A NEW KIND OF  SCAM TO GOUGE HELPLESS OLD WOMEN WITH SHITTY KNEES WHO CAN’T FIGHT BACK. I decide to pour a Marcytini and call HealthTexas.

A morning of monumental accomplishments featuring deep-dish pizza and tartar sauce.

Good morning. Want to see what happens around here when a senior citizen insomniac gets hungry in the middle of the night? The aforementioned senior citizen visits Foody Direct and orders $69 worth of deep-dish pizza from My π in Chicago for two-day delivery in a colorful crate of dry ice.

Motivation and a Marcytini ... the perfect catalyst for a Howdygram post.

It’s another hot and sweaty fall afternoon here in north Texas. Our landscapers just finished mowing for the zillionth time since April, our maid is vacuuming the master bedroom, and I’m comfortably parked at my desk with motivation and a Marcytini ... the perfect catalyst for a Howdygram post. I’ll probably stop halfway, though, for a nap. Because RETIREMENT!

The scary side of plastic surgery? You wind up looking like somebody else.

Sam just called. He’ll be home from work late tonight — I’m guessing around 2 a.m. — so maybe I’ll hang out here with the Howdygram for a little while.

Answer me this: Do South African burglars routinely stop to take a dump before they steal the silverware?

Welcome to Insomnia Central. It’s 5:30 a.m., I’ve been awake since 4:45 and I’m parked comfortably at my desk with a teeny bottle of Coke Zero (from the mini-fridge here in the study) and two Russell Stover sugar-free peanut butter cups. I really want to go back to bed at some point because I’ve got a JAM-PACKED AGENDA this morning that includes visits to CVS for my annual flu shot and then to Mesquite City Hall to sign me up for the MTED program. In case you’re interested, MTED stands for Mesquite Transportation for the Elderly and Disabled, and as a handicapped old lady with shitty knees, nerve-damaged feet and a cane I qualify for the city’s free door-to-door bus service so I can get to my doctor appointments in case Sam can’t take me one of these days.

I’m actually too tired to eat a Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow pumpkin.

I’ve had two stinking hours of sleep and I’m so tired I can’t even keep my eyes open long enough to eat a Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow pumpkin. As a matter of fact, my present level of sleep deprivation is so profound I actually feel INEBRIATED. Sam just left for the gym and his weekly Costco excursion — TEENY TACOS! BREAKFAST BURRITOS! SALSA! MUFFINS! VERY VERY GOOD FROZEN HAMBURGERS! — and I’m seriously considering an immediate nap in the family room since my afternoon will be interrupted by technical people from Display Systems, Inc., who are coming over to replace the lamp in our projection TV so I won’t miss any William Powell movies. (The lamp hasn’t burned out yet but those threatening little on-screen warning messages irritate the hell out of me.) For your possible interest I’m expecting the aforementioned technical people between 2 and 4.

I smashed another toe.

Just 13 days since my last toe disaster [see post] I did it again, people. Tonight on my way to the kitchen for a cup of sugar-free lemon-lime Jell-O I whacked the big toe on my right foot against the leg of our new coffee table, and BLAMMO ... blood all over the place. Sam came to my rescue with a bandage and I spent the next two hours on the chaise with my foot propped up because it hurt like hell. I’M FED UP WITH ALL THIS LOUSY TOE SHIT AND IT HAS TO STOP. Thank you for putting up with me.

The latest conspiracy theory: President Obama is planning to cancel the 2016 election and declare a dictatorship.

A couple of things. First, Sam assembled our new coffee table a few minutes ago AND IT’S ABSOLUTELY SWELL. Perfect size, perfect color, zero damage, heavy glass, a handy-dandy lower shelf to hold remotes and snacks, and — best of all — TONS OF ROOM UNDERNEATH FOR MY SHITTY FEET. I’m not sure I can explain why room for my feet is such a big deal, but trust me ... it just IS. When you have arthritis and neuropathy you spend most of your life trying to get comfortable, and OUR NEW TABLE DOES IT FOR ME! I’ll bet there are many, many hours of happy, pain-free movie-watching in my future. Glorioski!

Try Marcycita’s South-of-the-Border Tamale Bake for Senior Citizens with Hot Sauce.

I’ve just discovered that it’s fun and liberating to wake up at 4:30 in the morning for a routine middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure and wind up in the study eating Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow pumpkins! Right here on my desk I’ve got a great big display box of 36 GORGEOUS FOIL-WRAPPED PUMPKINS filled with FLUFFY MARSHMALLOW CREAM ... exactly like you’d find them next to the register at Walgreens. Seriously, can life get any better than this?

Michael Dunn gets life in prison without parole. It couldn’t happen to a more deserving douchebag.

Yo, everybody. Before I mosey into the family room for some late-night TV with Sam there’s huge news I want to share even though it was plastered all over the Internet today and you probably already know: DOUCHEBAG MICHAEL DUNN GETS LIFE IN PRISON WITHOUT PAROLE. No kidding and holy crap, this actually made me smile. RUSSELL STOVER SUGAR-FREE MARSHMALLOW PUMPKINS FOR EVERYBODY!

Welcome aboard the Ebola Magic, Carnival’s newest floating petri dish.

Ebola ... the gift that keeps on giving! Today we learn that a lab supervisor from Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital who most likely handled Thomas Eric Duncan’s infectious specimens IS ON A CARNIVAL CRUISE IN THE CARIBBEAN with 3,690 passengers, thereby creating the world’s largest floating petri dish from hell. And you thought norovirus was bad? Holy shit.

Welcome to Dallas ... where the fun is infectious!

According to a steaming pile of news reports this morning, Dallas County commissioners are considering an EBOLA OUTBREAK DISASTER DECLARATION due to “the potential to suffer widespread or severe damage, injury, loss or threat of life.” There’s an emergency meeting scheduled for this afternoon with coffee and a couple of sweet rolls.

“I Love Lucy” is still a scream and I promise it won’t make you think of Ebola even for a second.

To distract all of us from The Great Ebola Panic of 2014 — which is SCARY SHIT and A VERY REAL THING, especially here in Dallas — I think you should know that today is “I Love Lucy” Day, commemorating the iconic TV comedy’s premier on October 15, 1951, just two stinking weeks before the birth of yours truly.

Welcome to Ebolaville.

Yo, everybody, and happy October 15. It’s 5:30 in the morning and I’ve got some breaking medical news from Ebolaville: Texas Health Presbyterian Hospital — the facility in Dallas where Thomas Eric Duncan died last week — was COMPLETELY UNPREPARED to treat any kind of highly infectious disease. According to a group of nurses who filed a complaint with National Nurses United, they had no protective gear and reportedly left Duncan in a room with other patients for “several hours” before isolating him, exposing at least 76 additional people. The complaint states that a nursing supervisor “faced resistance from other hospital authorities” when she requested moving Duncan to an isolation unit.

The 2016 Republican clown car is filling up fast.

The big news first, okay? An order issued by the Supreme Court today ensured that ABORTION CLINICS IN TEXAS MUST STAY OPEN. The order negated part of the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals ruling issued a couple of weeks ago that would have forced 13 of the state’s 18 women’s health centers that provide abortion services to close in compliance with new “safety” requirements that would have cost millions of dollars in bullshit building code upgrades to turn clinics into fancy-ass “ambulatory surgical centers” and require all staff doctors to have hospital admitting privileges.

Christopher Columbus is our latest Putz of the Week.

I’ve got a shocking revelation for you, people. AMERICA’S SCHOOLS DON’T TEACH THE TRUTH ABOUT CHRISTOPHER COLUMBUS. He didn’t “discover” the new world ... HE INVADED IT. And for this reason I’d like to announce that Christopher Columbus is the Howdygram’s latest Putz of the Week even though he actually deserves something a whole lot worse. (I’m considering Shithead of the Fifteenth Century.)

Fine dining and wholesome family entertainment are the hallmark of Howdygram headquarters.

Know what? Lots and lots of REALLY EXCITING CRAP is happening around here this week! To prevent an outbreak of general hysteria maybe I’d better organize my thoughts into neatly-subtitled paragraphs for your reading pleasure.

Cookies and beer? Holy crap.

You think you know the person you’re married to? Think again. I just discovered a new side of Sam, the mystery man. It’s 10:30 Saturday night and he decides to drive over to Kroger to buy an emergency late-night snack: Pepperidge Farm Milano cookies and a cold six-pack of Sam Adams. COOKIES AND BEER? Holy crap, right?

You should always listen to your stomach.

Shalom, y’all. We’ve got a damp and dismal Saturday here, which is no surprise whatsoever when you stop to consider Friday night. In a word, it was LOUD AND WET (okay, three words), and I’m thinking we probably got at least an inch of rain along with three hours of thunder, lightning, rattling window screens and wind. (A lot of wind.)

End of weather report. (You’re welcome.)

The toe has survived. Send presents.

I haven’t been sleeping well lately — mostly in teeny spurts, like two hours at a time — and last night was no different. Strangely enough, though, I haven’t been very inspired to write Howdygram posts while I sit around here doing nothing (I didn’t write one yesterday) but I hope to make up for it RIGHT NOW with a bunch of stimulating baloney. Thank you.

Former President Jimmy Carter is the genuine article.

If you’re a regular Howdygram reader you already know by now that I’m no fan of the religious right, always whining about “persecution” while shoving their brand of artificial pseudo-Christian hate down America’s throat. Based on what I see from their warped displays of faith, therefore, I’m more than willing to accept that former President Jimmy Carter is the genuine article. He doesn’t look for publicity and he doesn’t spew any idiotic anti-woman, anti-minority, anti-gay, Obama-is-the-antichrist horseshit; instead, very quietly, last week President Carter — at age 90! — was here in Dallas for three days helping to build 35 new houses with Habitat for Humanity, something he and Rosalynn have done together all over the U.S. (and around the world) as a Christian ministry for the last 30 years.

You don’t want to miss these excellent bargains.

It’s 5 a.m., I’ve got a throbby toe [see previous post], my feet are burning, my blood sugar is too low, my left thigh hurts and my right eye is watering. Other than that it’s really swell to be awake in the middle of the night again. How the hell are you? 

I smashed a toe.

More specifically, the big toe on my left foot. And I didn’t even realize it at the time. At 2:15, about five minutes after Sam left for work today, I was sitting on the sofa in the family room and bumped my toe on the coffee table. Five minutes later I look down at my foot and I’M COVERED IN BLOOD. Nothing hurts, thank God — my feet are numb due to diabetic neuropathy — but I won’t be able to do much about my crushed nail and the extent of my toe injury until Sam gets home tonight because I’m an old lady with mobility issues. No kidding, people, I’m really freaked out right now. I wanted to load and run the dishwasher this afternoon and maybe do some laundry but I don’t think I should shlep around the house putting any pressure on my toe or risk additional nail damage (if that’s even possible) by stuffing my foot into a slipper.

Absentee ballots rule. And you don’t have to wear a brassiere.

Know what I forgot to tell you? I ALREADY VOTED IN THE NOVEMBER ELECTION! This year, for the very first time, I requested and cast an absentee ballot so I won’t have to get all freaked out about having good days and bad days, dealing with potentially shitty weather conditions or not feeling well enough to vote in person. Doing the mail-in ballot thing is FUN AND EASY, you get a big free pre-paid envelope to send it back AND YOU DON’T HAVE TO WEAR A BRASSIERE. Seriously, people, I plan to do this for the rest of my life and you should consider it, too. ABSENTEE BALLOTS RULE.

Two late-summer maladies are creeping back into my life.

Hello from I’m-Feeling-Crappyland. It’s 7:30 Monday morning and I’ve got a stuffed-up nose, watery eyes, a mild headache and — horrors! — I’m pretty damn sure two maladies from late summer are creeping back into my life: 1) the same miserable urinary tract infection; and 2) CELLULITIS IN MY LEFT THIGH, which started up again last night and already hurts like hell. I’ve decided to send an email to Dr. M’s office this morning to maneuver an Ampicillin refill, so cross your fingers that she won’t ask me to make an appointment because I was just there in September and enough is enough. Please watch this space for additional health updates as they become available but feel free to continue your usual routine in the meantime. Thank you.

A popular redneck destination breaks ground near Howdygram headquarters.

I’d like to launch this Howdygram post with TWO IMPORTANT TEXAS NEWS STORIES, okay? (I should be in bed right now, but what the hell ... I’d rather do this instead.)

Alexander Graham Bell. What a schmuck.

Hello, shalom and happy Saturday to you and yours. I’ll begin today’s post with news about yesterday’s THOROUGHLY SHOCKING WAL-MART DELIVERY featuring two half-gallon jars of surprise dill pickles.

I hope you have a really pleasant Friday. What’s for lunch today?

Hi. It’s me again but I wish I was still in bed. I woke up about 40 minutes ago for my routine middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure and decided to hang out in the study for a while for the following shitty reasons: 1) I’ve got a clogged nose, watery eyes and a raspy cough; 2) my back is itchy; and 3) I can’t think of anything else.

If you bet on Texas to contain Ebola, you’ll lose. Rick Perry is as dumb as a box of rocks.

Color me shocked: WE ACTUALLY GOT THOSE BIG-ASS THUNDERSTORMS predicted by Weather.com! They started to blow through here around 5 p.m. with violently strong circular winds, sheets of heavy rain and plenty of noise and lightning. Mesquite survived unscathed except for two brief power outages; areas west of us — such as Arlington near Cowboys Stadium and snooty Highland Park — had considerable damage and about 250,000 residents are still without power. A couple of photos appear below in case you need to see this for yourself.

I’ve discovered the perfect, squeak-free pre-popped popcorn.

The lying sacks of poo at Weather.com are forecasting thunderstorms today for the drought-ravaged Dallas metro area. We haven’t had any rain here since two days of really pathetic sprinkles back in mid-September that brought the month’s total rainfall to barely half an inch. That’s 2.5 inches below “normal.” We’re screwed. WE NEED RAIN AND WE NEED IT IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE CATTLE CAN’T DRINK DUST. The big hoo-hah is supposed to start around 4 with “severe storms” and “locally heavy rainfall.” (I’ll believe it when I see it.)

Grab your calendar! It’s Dwarf Awareness Month and only 31 days until my birthday.

Holy crap! IT’S ALREADY THE FIRST DAY OF OCTOBER! In case you don’t quite grasp the significance, the month of October features all of the momentous milestones listed below.

A senior citizen recipe for happiness, rediscovered soup plates and urgent Texas news.

It’s 4:45 in the morning and I’m here in the study with a tasty Glucerna milkshake for people with diabetes who get up in the middle of the night for no particular reason whatsoever. Until I’m ready to go back to bed I’ll do my best to entertain y’all with a Howdygram post.

These pre-Code films have enough uncensored grit, grief, sex and horror to last five lifetimes.

Holy crap. Have you been watching any of those pre-Code movies this month on TCM? THEY’RE INCREDIBLE! I saw two on Saturday while Sam was unconscious on the sofa and now I wish I’d saved them for him. They were: 1) Call Her Savage (1932) starring Clara Bow and Gilbert Roland; and 2) The Hatchet Man (1930) starring Edward G. Robinson as the “enforcer” of a Chinese gang and Loretta Young as his Chinese child bride. (Seriously.)

Yesterday’s big parade included cowboys on horseback, Elvises and lots of girls with legs.

It’s 9:40 Saturday morning and Sam went back to bed about half an hour ago, leaving me alone in the study with a Marcytini and a big blank screen that’s waiting for a Howdygram post. I’m not feeling especially perky or creative at the present time so you can either bear with me or go watch TV for a little while. (If I were you, I’d watch TV.)

Here’s our essential guide to the 2014 State Fair of Texas.

Hi, y’all. Howdygram headquarters is full of late-breaking Texas news today! But first ... in case you haven’t seen the latest photo from Paris Fashion Week, here are frozen-face professional poser Kim Kardashian, wearing a skirt so short she had to hide her “hoo-hoo” from the media, and her douchebag spouse, the megalomaniac Kanye West, both TOPLESS at the Lanvin runway show. Caught on video by TMZ, they were booed loudly by the crowd when they entered the arena and Kanye had a fucking STROKE because the dumb slob thinks he deserves to be the most respected half-naked American in the room with man-boobs and a trophy tramp wife. That’s definitely one of the best sentences I’ve ever written.

L’shanah tovah from Marcy and Sam.

Rosh Hashanah — year 5775 on the Hebrew calendar — kicked off about 45 minutes ago when the sun went down, so this would be a perfect opportunity to wish y’all a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR if you’re Jewish like we are! Sam and I aren’t observant, although we cling to the really important traditions like gefilte fish and yahrzeit candles.

Shalom from Texas. Tonight is Jewish New Year’s Eve!

This post will include a timeline separated into convenient paragraphs. Deal with it, okay?

Please eat more pea salad and elect Democrats in November.

Mazel tov, people. Today is September 23 and a GIGANTIC MILESTONE on the Howdygram’s calendar. It’s officially the first day of autumn, two days before Rosh Hashanah, one week until we go to the Choctaw Casino in Oklahoma for the senior citizen buffet and only 38 days left until my birthday. THIS IS SO DAMN EXCITING A PERSON COULD EXPLODE ALREADY.

New fonts, old movies and a shitload of loose change.

In case you’re wondering where the hell I’ve been for the last two days, the answer is RIGHT HERE, DOING NOTHING. Actually, yesterday I slept a lot and watched a bunch of really good movies (details follow) and today I’ve mostly been rolling Sam’s collection of loose change and trying to get rid of a headache. For your possible interest our total haul today was $287, which included the contents of two Folger’s coffee cans and a little metal tray where Sam throws his car keys at night.

Congratulations, Florida. You’ve finally upstaged Texas.

Hi, people. I have a variety of fascinating topics for today’s Howdygram post but I don’t know yet if I’ll get to all of them or not. I guess it depends on two things: 1) what time I want to eat dinner because it’s already 8:45 and nobody’s getting any younger here; and 2) if I become too involved with the bag of Russell Stover sugar-free chocolate-covered peanuts that Sam just deposited on my desk. It’s always something, isn’t it?

There’s no such thing as too much gravy.

Yo, people, and I’d like to extend my best wishes for a very HAPPY FRIDAY to you and yours! I didn’t have time to write a Howdygram post yesterday in-between naps, two hypoglycemic episodes and Melvyn Douglas movies, so I’ll do my best to make amends for it RIGHT NOW. Thank you.

A nuclear stress test is out of the fucking question.

Let’s take a minute or two to recap this morning’s cardiology appointment, shall we? This was my first session with Dr. Singh. He’s nice, he went to college and I’m pretty sure I like him even though he thinks I’m overweight. He studied the EKG from my visit with Dr. M a couple of weeks ago and concluded that an occasionally-irregular heartbeat is nothing to worry about since I’m breathing fine, shlepping around like a typical old lady with lousy knees and I don’t have chest pains. But, he says, it would still be terrific fun to subject me to an echocardiogram RIGHT NOW — even though he can’t find a single legitimate reason for it — and then schedule me for a two-day “nuclear stress test” at his office in Greenville that involves pumping shit into my veins UNTIL I PRACTICALLY HAVE A HEART ATTACK because my mobility issues make a treadmill test not such a hot idea.

Delusional looks from the runways of London Fashion Week.

I can’t believe I forgot to include this in my last post so I’ll just do another one, okay? Here are some recent photos from the runways of London Fashion Week that highlight the latest looks for spring from some of the planet’s most delusional designers. Details appear below.

If Dr. Singh’s storm troopers won’t accept a typed list of medications they can all go piss up a rope.

News bulletin: OLD AGE GIVES YOU A LICENSE TO BE CRABBY. I never do anything I don’t want to do, I won’t tolerate shitty service, I usually refuse to pick up a ringing phone and sometimes I won’t even make the bed. With regard to my doctor appointment tomorrow, I’m ready for a battle with the cardiologist after receiving a lengthy, recorded robo-call yesterday with an annoying list of demands and instructions for my first appointment, including an iron-clad rule that I have to bring along all of my prescription bottles — NO FUCKING EXCEPTIONS WHATSOEVER — “or risk being turned away at the reception desk.” Well, good luck with that, pal! I don’t keep prescription bottles because I’ve got diabetic peripheral neuropathy in both hands and can’t open the damn things, so I pour my pills into neatly-labeled Ziploc bags that I keep in a little plastic crate in my desk. Bottom line: If Dr. Singh’s storm troopers won’t accept a typed list of medications — spelled correctly in a legible typeface with accurate dosages — THEY CAN ALL GO PISS UP A ROPE and I’ll come straight home and watch Myrna Loy movies.

Only a Republican would be stupid enough to accuse himself of plagiarism in an effort to improve his reputation.

Here’s the post I promised to write with our latest Putz of the Week award! This time the Howdygram is honoring Russell Pearce, the first vice-chair of Arizona’s Republican Party and disgraced (and recalled) Arizona state senate president, for some seriously shitty remarks he made on September 6 on his weekly radio talk show. Pearce is a first-degree jackass and anti-Semite who eats lunch with white supremacists and shills for the Corrections Corporation of America, which has never met an immigrant it didn’t want to throw into prison.

Pleasant and productive activities.

Hi, guys! I’ve had a pleasant and productive day that’s included all of the following pleasant and productive activities so far. There is always a possibility that additional pleasant and productive activities may be added later but we won’t worry too much about that now. Thank you.

I’m really, really sick of the news again and I know I’m not alone here.

I’m grieved to report that going back to bed this morning didn’t really do much to help my complaints du jour. My throat is still raw, my eyes are dripping and I’ve got an annoyingly low body temperature (currently hovering at 95.7°) that makes my skin feel like a dead mackerel. As soon as Sam gets home from Wal-Mart I’ll heat up a nice can of Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup for lunch and try another nap on the chaise. In case you care, Sam is buying no-carb cream (for the soup) plus assorted other Sunday essentials that include sugar-free Jell-O cups in exciting flavors, Hillshire Farm wrinkly chicken lunch meat and some 12-ounce bottles of Coke Zero for my new teeny fridge in the study. Oh boy, right?

Announcing another delicious convenience for housebound old ladies with shitty knees.

Know what happens when I get hungry? I buy amazings edible things on the interwebs! Last night I reordered more of that surprisingly tasty YODERS CANNED BACON from the nice people at Pleasant Hill Grain. I love this stuff, guys. Yoders manages to shove 52 regular-size slices of fully-cooked, ready-to-eat bacon in every can ... no more greasy frying pans or bacon shpritzies all over the stove! I ordered two cans this time. One for now, one for later.

Greg Abbott has entered the sixth grade name-calling phase of his gubernatorial campaign.

I know you’ll forgive me for not writing a Howdygram post yesterday. As the old saying goes, the spirit was willing but the rest of me took naps. Two of ’em. At the moment it’s 6:10 a.m., Sam is in bed and I’m having a minor episode of hypoglycemia that I’ll milk for all its worth because low blood sugar makes me feel inebriated and creative at the same time. (Also really, really hungry.)

I’m in the throes of a dire artificially-flavored milkshake crisis.

I was supposed to go to the podiatrist today at 9 a.m. If you’ve been paying attention, however, that first sentence tells you TWO THINGS: 1) I didn’t actually go; and 2) okay, only ONE thing, which means I should ALSO tell you that I had to cancel at the last minute because I didn’t get out of bed until 8:40 — next time I hope somebody reminds me to remind Sam to wake me up — and I positively did NOT feel like walking out of the house with bed-head, stiff knees (we’re expecting rain), untweezed eyebrows and a shitty attitude. (But please don’t say anything. I simply told the doctor’s office I ruptured something.)

Big Tex has been scaring the shit out of people for more than 60 years.

Before I get carried away with this post and drift into assorted subjects, please allow me to make a very important announcement:

A Howdygram ranking: The 25 Shittiest Men of All Time.

While I sit here wondering how come I never got the results of last Tuesday’s blood tests from Dr. M’s office I thought it might be a fun distraction to assemble the following list for you. It’s our first official Howdygram ranking, so-to-speak. Here, for your possible interest, are ...

Will independence for Scotland mean a worldwide shortage of bagpipes and Lorna Doones?

Did you ever notice that some days are newsier than other days? Today, for instance, has been newsy as hell around here, which I’ll expound for you below in attractive separate paragraphs.

God invented the caps-lock key and I intend to use it.

Know what I love? ALL CAPS. They’re my best friend and my favorite go-to default style for the Howdygram because ALL CAPS GIVE MY IMPORTANT SHIT THE BIGNESS IT DESERVES. They’re NOISY, EMPHATIC, UNFILTERED, UNAPOLOGETIC, THERAPEUTIC and GUTSY. They’re HONEST. And they EXPAND THE VISUAL DYNAMIC OF WRITTEN SPEECH. (Mine usually needs all the help it can get.)

Fonts and thunderstorms.

I almost didn’t want to write a Howdygram post today due to feeling like crap — I’m still battling that urinary tract infection — but here I am anyway because I just downloaded an amazing secret treasure of premium fonts that would have cost me about $350 if I’d been dumb enough to shop on MyFonts.com instead of Googling “free Hallmark fonts.”

I’m mad about a thing again. Except this time, three.

Irritating crap is threatening to derail an otherwise pleasant Friday that began, for a change, on a positive note after eight glorious hours of sleep interrupted by only one routine middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure. In case you’re interested, here’s what’s getting on my nerves today.

The Howdygram recommends our favorite scandalous pre-Code films.

You know what I almost forgot to tell you? Not only is this Melvyn Douglas month on Turner Classic Movies, they’re also airing dozens of scandalous pre-Code films from the early 1930s on Fridays in September. There are lots of titles I can’t wait to see for the first time and old favorites that are always worth watching again. Here are some of my recommendations, okay? Please try not to miss the ones with teeny red stars; they’re AMAZING.

Customer service lesson: There are plenty of bozos with squeegees who know how to wash windows.

We have the sads right now at Howdygram headquarters, having just learned that legendary funny lady Joan Rivers died this afternoon. I loved Joan. I loved her voice, the huge fun she had entertaining an audience and every insane, outrageous thing that ever came out of her mouth, including a 20-minute shtick about “afterbirth” when I saw her live show in Las Vegas back in 1981. R.I.P., Joan.

I’m requesting a motorized chaise lounge on wheels for Hanukkah this year.

I knew it was just a matter of time. Last night I got a frantic phone call from one of my ex-clients who’s having a brain hemorrhage from the shitty customer service at Web.com, the miserable company that continued hosting her website after I retired a few months ago. Web.com apparently never credited her September hosting payment, shut down her website and email, and now they’re demanding a password in order to reinstate her service ... except NOBODY EVER ASKED HER TO SET A PASSWORD when we transferred her account back in June. Since I no longer have any connection whatsoever to Web.com — thank God! — I really didn’t know what to suggest, so I decided to give her my old administrator password and told her to give it a shot. I  have no idea if this actually worked or not but I seriously don’t give a crap. I’M RETIRED, DAMN IT. I’M NEVER ANSWERING THE PHONE AGAIN FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE.

Mock chicken parmesan for senior citizens that’s good enough for Dean Martin.

As promised, here’s another fine senior citizen recipe for old people with mobility problems who like to eat. This time it’s MOCK CHICKEN PARMESAN FOR SENIOR CITIZENS WITH EXTRA MOZZARELLA CHEESE AND BOGUS PASTA ... my answer to not being able to stand up long enough to cook the real thing and there’s also nobody around to take you to an Italian restaurant for dinner. This is actually a two-step recipe but they’re both fast as hell and you can sit down in-between if your knees hurt.

September is Melvyn Douglas month on TCM.

Howdy, boys and girls! It’s my sacred duty as a retired senior citizen to inform you that SEPTEMBER IS MELVYN DOUGLAS MONTH on Turner Classic Movies and I wholeheartedly encourage all of you to enjoy a whole bunch of this fabulous dude’s films ... every Wednesday starting TODAY. Here are my favorite picks for the month. (Check your local listings for times.)

I’m having a very shitty day.

Even though I try hard to remain upbeat in the face of day-to-day adversity — chronic pain, diabetes, running out of braunschweiger — today I’m mostly feeling bummed out, defeated and shitty following an early-morning appointment with Dr. M. For your possible interest the sordid details appear below with helpful subtitles.

I guess we don’t have a conundrum after all.

Remember that conundrum I mentioned in my Howdygram post yesterday afternoon? We’ve decided not to lose any sleep about the two shingles we found in our back yard because this morning when Sam went to the supermarket he saw a pile of loose roof shingles in the middle of Northwest Drive about two blocks from our house, so he figures they all went flying off a truck during Friday’s big-ass thunderstorm or maybe blew away from a construction site somewhere in the neighborhood.

Today is a day of multiple “happies.”

Today, dear readers, is a day of multiple “happies” here at Howdygram headquarters. For instance, it just doesn’t get much better than THIS:

• Happy Monday
• Happy First Day of September
• Happy Labor Day
• Happy Sam Just Bought Me a Huge Bag of Jimmy Dean Fully-Cooked Sausage Patties He Found in the Freezer Case at Tom Thumb

I’ll wait while you try to guess what I’m having for lunch today.

We have a conundrum.

Here’s what’s going on, okay? When Sam was outside a couple of hours ago cleaning up the back yard and patio from the big-ass thunderstorm that roared through here Friday [see post] he found TWO ROOF SHINGLES on the grass on the south side of the house. Gah!

I’m very good at self-diagnosis. Every 45 minutes I have the urge to pee like Seabiscuit.

Sam and I woke up way too early this morning. He has a rare (for Sam) problem with insomnia and I’m trying to fight off the early signs of a bladder infection, which actually began on Friday. (I’m very good at self-diagnosis. Every 45 minutes I have the urge to pee like Seabiscuit except it doesn’t happen.) To cheer me up Sam went to McDonald’s this morning to buy me a Sausage McMuffin. Marriage is a fine institution.

I’ll bet you’re wondering what’s on our agenda for the three-day holiday weekend.

I’ve got TWO BIG SCOOPS from Howdygram headquarters! First, last night Sam unpacked and set up our new Midea HS-65L mini fridge! It’s adorable, it’s running, it’s really quiet and I LOVE THIS THING SO DAMN HARD. Later today we’ll have to buy some soda — I’m thinking teeny bottles of Coke Zero and diet ginger ale — so I can start drinking ice cold things in the middle of the night.

Holy crap. We’re having a surprise thunderstorm!

Hi, boys and girls! It’s a hot, sticky Friday in Howdygramland (94° last time I checked) and there isn’t much going on around here except for: 1) digesting lunch; 2) regrouping my neurons following a lovely afternoon nap; and 3) planning my next meal. In case you give a crap, lunch was Oscar Mayer pickle & pimiento loaf on low-carb rye and dinner will be my latest almost-Italian recipe for senior citizens, which I’ll cover in detail for you RIGHT NOW.

Bobby Jindal thinks he’s a white man. And he sincerely believes the racists in the GOP think so, too.

I have a brand new Putz of the Week for you! This time the Howdygram would like to recognize Governor Bobby Jindal of Louisiana, a self-hating pukehead Republican of the first degree who seriously believes that RACISM EXISTS BECAUSE MINORITIES REFUSE TO ACT LIKE WHITE PEOPLE. I shit you not.

If you want to tell me about your email I’m always willing to listen. I even promise not to laugh

As far as most Thursdays go mine has been fucking AWESOME. There are so many reasons I almost don’t know where to start so I’ll just spew a bunch of words at random and hope you’ll hang on for the ride. Thank you.

A tale of towels, cartridges and other Wednesday accomplishments.

This has been a VERY PRODUCTIVE DAY due to accomplishing all of the following significant tasks. Prepare to be overwhelmed.

We don’t need any stinking Whoppers from the un-American tax dodgers at Burger King.

I’m feeling A LITTLE WEIRD right now. My symptoms, in case you give a crap, include drowsiness, nausea and shortness of breath. All three are slight, fortunately, but when you throw them together all at once you definitely feel (as I said before) A LITTLE WEIRD. These are potential side effects from Naproxen but also (more likely) could be related to what I ate for lunch today, namely two teeny cans of Hormel smoked ham with mayonnaise and sugar-free pickle relish. I might have to lie down in bed for a while to recover from a ham salad overdose.

Guess what happens when illiterates run a newspaper.

Yo, everybody. It’s a hot and clammy Monday afternoon, and as far as I can tell I currently have three possible options: 1) write a post for the Howdygram even though I don’t feel especially inspired; 2) take another nap until it’s time for my next meal; and 3) I can’t think of anything else. However, since I’m already accomplishing item number one I guess I’ll just press on.

I’ve got the number one best-looking organized pantry in Texas. Feast your eyes.

Holy crap. I almost forgot to give you a progress report on Howdygram headquarters’ Official Gigantic Kitchen Reorganization Day [see original post]. Since a picture’s worth a thousand words please feast your eyes on the number one best-looking organized pantry in Texas. IS THIS GORGEOUS, OR WHAT?

The Howdygram would like to extend its best wishes to the vibrating residents of Napa Valley, California.

And now for something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. It’s 4:15 a.m., I just woke up for no reason at all AND I FEEL TERRIFIC. As a matter of fact, I’ve been feeling terrific for the last several days and I can attribute my good fortune to the following: 1) I’m taking Naproxen twice a day; and 2) the month-long plantar fasciitis flare-up in my left heel is history. As a result, for the first time in maybe three years I’M COMPLETELY PAIN-FREE. It’s a life-changer.

It’s Official Gigantic Kitchen Reorganization Day here at Howdygram headquarters.

Another Saturday, another Sausage McMuffin, and shalom to you and yours from Howdygram headquarters, where the Internet’s elite meet to read pointless horseshit from a retired senior citizen with a lot of time on her hands. (In other words, me.) I have no specific subjects in mind for this post so I’ll probably just type aimlessly until it’s time to eat things. (We don’t miss meals here. NOT EVER.)

Enter the Howdygram’s official Rick Perry Mugshot Contest.

And now, for your Friday afternoon political entertainment, please welcome the Howdygram’s OFFICIAL RICK PERRY MUGSHOT CONTEST in honor of Governor Hairdo’s indictment earlier this week on two felony charges for abuse of power. Just pick your favorite “meme” and click the link below to vote via email. Everybody who enters will win a VALUABLE PRIZE if you’ll remember to include a mailing address when you vote. Thank you.

Miscellaneous Friday news and another scary food recall.

There’s a big remodeling hoo-hah coming up at Howdygram headquarters next Tuesday. Sam hired a crew to re-stain the cedar fence in our back yard and the cedar arbor on our patio. I don’t know whether or not you think this is important late-breaking news, but we sure do because it costs a lot of dough and we make it a rule never to sneeze at $1,800.

Rick Perry thinks ISIS terrorists from Iraq are sneaking into Texas across the Rio Grande.

Holy crap, I’m SO DAMN EXCITED today! I just redesigned the Howdygram’s banner from a denim texture to wood because this is my blog, I can change anything I want AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME. Thank you for understanding.

Viewing guide for the last 10 days of TCM’s Summer Under the Stars.

Hi, boys and girls! It’s the crack of 5 a.m., and as long as I’m parked at my desk with another round of hypoglycemia I might as well share my picks for the final 10 days of TCM’s SUMMER UNDER THE STARS hoo-hah.

Yoders canned bacon: The stuff that dreams are made of.

I don’t want to jinx myself or anything, but I FEEL REALLY TERRIFIC TODAY. The excruciating pain in my left heel (from plantar fasciitis) has dropped from a level 10 to a level 2 on the Official Howdygram Agony Scale, I have zero pain whatsoever in my arthritic knees, and for the time being most of my other frequent complaints are currently nonexistent, too. These would include such ailments as scary-low body temperature, crappy bladder control, useless hands due to diabetic peripheral neuropathy and a very itchy back.

Welcome to the decadent life of a housebound senior citizen.

Even though you might think it’s not much fun being a stay-at-home retired senior citizen with shitty knees and feet, most of the time you’d be REALLY WRONG. My life at Howdygram headquarters includes a wide variety of interesting activities and decadent perks, which I’ll outline for you below in subtitled paragraphs.

The worst mall TV commercial of all time.

Here it is, people. For your Monday night viewing pleasure, I’ve got the absolute WORST mall TV commercial of all time.

The outrageously huge and sweaty Texas State Fair opens on September 25.

Hi. It’s that time again, people ... the Texas State Fair has announced its eight finalists for the coveted Big Tex Choice Awards, an annual competition that honors the most creative and best-tasting deep-fried shit on the midway. Winners will be announced on September 1; this year’s fair runs from September 25 through October 19. I’ll list the finalists for you below with a few pictures thrown in for your possible interest. Thank you.

Trailer park politics: Why it’s impossible to take the right wing seriously.

You’ll never in a million years guess what we’ve been doing for the last 24 hours. ABSOLUTELY NOTHING DUE TO THUNDERSTORMS! No kidding, people ... we’ve had nonstop rain and thunder here in the greater drought-stricken Dallas area since mid-afternoon Saturday, and it’s such a big fat hoot to see everything SOAKING WET for a change. And the best part is, THERE’S MORE ON THE WAY TONIGHT. Holy crap, right?

Rick Perry, our most-awarded Putz of the Week, has been indicted for abuse of power.

Hello, happy Saturday, and guess who’s having another episode of hypoglycemia. ME. After I got up for my middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure around 4:15 I couldn’t fall back asleep due to every ten minutes my eyes would pop wide open and I’d find myself doing this weird deep-breathing thing like when you go to the doctor. Finally I just got out of bed, shlepped into the study on my shitty plantar fasciitis heel and tested my blood sugar, which was 51. VERY LOW. And now you know why I’m sitting at my desk at 5:38 in the morning sucking on glucose tablets. I’d rather have a Sausage McMuffin, but we all have to live with disappointments.

Hanukkah came early this year!

Howdygram headquarters has turned into the Twilight Zone due to THREE REALLY SPOOKY THINGS that actually happened today.

Here’s the news of the day from Howdygram headquarters in neat little subtitled paragraphs.

Because all the best putzes are politicians, for the time being there will be a self-imposed moratorium on our popular Putz of the Week award as part of my continuing campaign to prevent a BRAIN HEMORRHAGE by avoiding news websites and all human contact with anything that resembles politics or current events. That being said, I guess there really isn’t much else to do around here except write rambling Howdygram posts about what’s for dinner, old movies, record-setting naps and how pleasant it is to be a retired senior citizen with frequently-shitty mobility.

Do not get me started on that disgusting police state shit in Ferguson, Missouri.

To avoid any contact whatsoever with current events because the world is so fucked up I think I’m having a nervous breakdown — do NOT get me started on that disgusting police state shit in Ferguson, Missouri — I figure this is probably an ideal time to distract myself by recommending the upcoming week’s best movies on TCM’s August SUMMER UNDER THE STARS hoo-hah.

I haven’t had a decent BLT for years.

It’s a cool, crisp mid-August afternoon here in north Texas, the thermometer peaking at only 92° under a blue and remarkably not hazy sky. I only mention the weather because our typical daytime temperature this time of year is more like 105° with muggy air that’s not fit to breathe unless you’re an armadillo or a herd of grasshoppers.

Just between us, I’m beginning to think the American Revolution was a huge mistake.

Yo from Texas, everybody. I haven’t been around too much for the last few days due to the following substantial reasons: 1) feeling like shit; and 2) I can’t think of anything else. Mostly the problems were NONSTOP HYPOGLYCEMIA and INTENSE HEEL PAIN, although today, finally, I’m ready to rejoin the human race. I’ve had a lot of very juicy naps.

Sarah Palin is a pointless, self-absorbed whoopee cushion.

It’s 4 a.m. and I’m having another hypoglycemic “incident” so I thought it might be nice to hang out in the study while I amuse myself with tasty glucose chewables from Wal-Mart. Today’s featured flavor is raspberry but they also come in cherry, grape, baby aspirin orange, fruit punch and assorted tropical fruits. Glucose chewables are one of my favorite food groups and my favorite flavor is the assorted tropical fruit because PINEAPPLE AND COCONUT!

Sam just walked in with a couple of good-lookin’ Sausage McMuffins.

Another day, another madhouse at Howdygram headquarters. That’s TWO DAYS IN A ROW, guys! As is my wont, here’s a neatly-typed, attractively-subtitled list of Saturday’s memorable events. Thank you.

Holy crap, people. You do not want to sneeze at cellulitis.

Do you ever research your medical symptoms online like the rest of us stupid mortals? Be careful what you look for ... YOU MIGHT FIND OUT YOU REALLY HAVE IT.

When Sam and I went to bed a couple of hours ago I couldn’t fall asleep due to a nagging frantic fear that something is still seriously wrong with me. I’m sure you remember the shitty mystery fever that sent me to Baylor Hospital’s E.R. last Sunday, right? The hospital couldn’t pinpoint the cause of the fever because they suspected the cause might not have manifested itself yet ... AND THEY WERE RIGHT. Three days later (on Wednesday) Sam noticed a rash of strange insect bites above my left knee even though I haven’t spent any time outdoors since my second year of college, and now, today, a large area of my left thigh feels warm and sore to the touch. Combine all these weird and strangely-unrelated symptoms — fever, insect bites, rash, sore leg — and you know what you get? According to the Mayo Clinic’s handy-dandy middle-of-the-night nightmare-inducing website, it’s CELLULITIS. Holy crap, people. You do NOT want to sneeze at cellulitis, so I’ll have to call Dr. M’s office first thing Monday and make an appointment to see her right away.