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!