Everybody screwed up today except me.

Welcome to a hot and sweaty Wednesday at Howdygram headquarters, where sometimes life gets mighty weird and crappy. Go grab yourself a lemonade and allow me to explain.

SCHWAN’S DIDN’T SHOW UP TODAY. Even though this might be partly my fault due to not remembering to place my biweekly Schwan’s order online last night, Gary (our delivery doofus) is supposed to call during his route on Wednesdays anyway to ask if I’m being retarded or did I not place an order on purpose. This was the first time in seven years I actually forgot to place my order... AND THE FIRST TIME GARY NEVER CALLED! Therefore Howdygram headquarters will run out of teeny deep-dish supreme pizzas sometime within the next 72 hours plus I won’t be able to surprise Sam with a box of root beer float ice cream bars. (When it’s 98° outside a person really needs ice cream bars.)

OUR MAID DIDN’T SHOW UP TODAY, EITHER. This might be partly my fault, too, but ONLY because I altered our regular schedule when Kitchen Solvers was here every day last week refacing our kitchen cabinets. I asked Isidra to come today instead — and even wrote it down for her on my favorite lined paper — but apparently she forgot. As a result Sam had to put fresh sheets on our bed before he left for work this afternoon (holy crap) and I got a shitty abbreviated after-lunch nap due to staying awake in case the doorbell rang.

But wait ... there’s more!

THE CITY OF MESQUITE LEFT A CALLING CARD. As far as we can tell somebody from the City Building Inspector’s office stopped by this morning to check out our new water heater ... THE ONE THAT HOME DEPOT INSTALLED A YEAR AND A HALF AGO. I have no idea why they taped a card to the door and didn’t bother to knock, because Sam and I were both home and it would have been swell to finally take care of this baloney after waiting 15 months.

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Hey. Notice anything different about the Howdygram today? I JAZZED UP THE COLOR! I added red to the banner logo and changed the link “hover” color from gray to red throughout the entire blog. (If you don’t think this is exciting there must be something wrong with you.)

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I’ve got a growing list of health complaints for my mid-week kvetch report. They include all of the following:

• A wandering migraine that comes and goes every few hours along with (don’t laugh) burning nasal passages and a lot of burping.
• I smashed the middle toe on my right foot. I didn’t crack the nail or break a bone, but it throbs and I intend to continue whining until at least 11:45 p.m.
• Miserable knee pain. I’m doubling-up on my prescription painkillers.
• Severe pain in my left heel. You have no idea how much I hate my goddamn feet!
• My whole body hurts. In addition to all of the above I refer specifically to my achy shins and calf muscles, my right shoulder, stiff and crampy hands, watery eyes, frequent nausea, shortness of breath, occasional difficulty swallowing, lower back pain and cellulitis behind my left thigh. The only complaint I don’t have is menstrual cramps due to not having a uterus and ovaries since 1990. (Good riddance.)

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Televangelist and fossilized Jesus huckster Pat Robertson has said some genuinely horrible shit in his 300 years on Earth, including how to beat your kids the right way, how to pray away gayness, homosexuality will lead to men marrying farm animals, and how to tart yourself up so your husband doesn’t cheat on you. But Robertson’s advice today to a caller named “Jane” on how to comfort a co-worker whose three-year-old died, is the fucking worst thing EVER.

So here’s what I’m thinking, Pat. If God killed that baby to stop him from being another Hitler, why didn’t God just kill the original three-year-old Hitler in 1892? You know, so there’d BE NO HITLER?!

Or better yet, when you comfort a grieving mother it’s probably best to leave Hitler out of it completely. This is something any moderately decent human being — particularly one who invokes the name of  Jesus all day long — should understand by now.

Thank you for reading this.