And now for the latest news from Howdygram headquarters in nice, neat paragraphs with subtitles. Just for you.
I’M EXPECTING AN ARTIZONE DELIVERY THIS MORNING. This includes a gigantic braised brisket pot pie, big cheesy stuffed taters and huge stuffed bell peppers with lots of red sauce. God bless Artizone and all the nice people who deliver their food. I’m starving.
I PLACED AN ORDER WITH AMAZON PRIME PANTRY for lack of anything better to do on Friday afternoon, but it was briefly entertaining nevertheless. I bought cute little tubs of Knorr condensed chicken stock, teeny 12-oz. bottles of Coke Zero for the mini fridge in the study, Chester’s Puffcorn because sometimes a girl needs cheesy crunchy crap, and a few bags of Milano cookies for Sam.
I PLACED AN ORDER WITH AMAZON PRIME PANTRY for lack of anything better to do on Friday afternoon, but it was briefly entertaining nevertheless. I bought cute little tubs of Knorr condensed chicken stock, teeny 12-oz. bottles of Coke Zero for the mini fridge in the study, Chester’s Puffcorn because sometimes a girl needs cheesy crunchy crap, and a few bags of Milano cookies for Sam.
I WATCHED A LOUSY MURDER MYSTERY. Four Men and a Prayer (1938) had a terrific cast and a plot that could have been outstanding if John Ford hadn’t ruined it. He combined clownish comedy, jokes and ridiculous dialog with a military court-martial in India, a tragic murder, gun smugglers, traitors, sabotage, the brutal massacre of women and children in a South American revolution, dancing in a night club, and an annoying love story featuring Loretta Young as a clingy, silly heiress with hundreds of fur-trimmed dresses who won’t take no for an answer. Mostly you just want to slap her. C. Aubrey Smith (see above, next to Loretta) starred as the patriarch of an aristocratic British family with four sons — George Sanders, David Niven, Richard Greene and William Henry — but unfortunately he gets bumped off during the first 10 minutes, inspiring his sons to race around the globe trying to find out who murdered him. This is actually a shame because C. Aubrey was the best part of the whole movie. Also, there were way too many bad guys and Barry Fitzgerald playing everybody’s favorite little drunk nitwit from The Quiet Man (1952).
I think maybe I’ll move along into the family room now for a late snack (popcorn!) and last night’s episode of “Real Time with Bill Maher.” Thank you for reading this.
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