Drugs are amazing.

Know what I hate? Waking up wracked with pain after a lousy night’s sleep. This was just about one of the worst nights I can ever remember even though I actually felt not too bad when I went to bed at 3 a.m. I wish somebody could tell me what the hell happened between 3 and 6:45! At the moment I’ve got a whole whine list full of pain-related shit going on — everything from plantar fasciitis to sensitive bleeding skin to gas pains to a low-grade fever with aching joints — and I’m EXHAUSTED from lack of sleep. With any luck I’ll type this post really fast and then haul myself into the family room for a multi-hour nap on the chaise before my maid shows up at 1 p.m. for a pre-arranged visit to check on my welfare and make sure I haven’t fallen down in the family room with a bowl of chili and need four paramedics with a moose sling to help me get up.

Just fix my goddamn email and let’s move on.

Hi. It’s almost midnight and I’ve been considering what time I should go to bed. It probably doesn’t matter, though ... I’m always interrupted after four hours for a middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure and wind up right here at my desk to horse around with the Howdygram. I guess it’s your lucky day after all!

I want my little plastic cup back.

It’s a pleasant, mostly cloudy Monday morning here at Howdygram headquarters. At 8:05 a.m. I’ve already been awake for nearly three hours due to a hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) episode that woke me from a sound sleep with a variety of irritating warning signs. These include not being able to breathe, double vision, shaky hands, dizziness and a severe craving for sugar. Just another sparkling day in Diabetesland, where I lead a jam-packed life filled with insulin, needles, chronic kidney disease and neuropathy pain.

Here in America, Mr. Rouhani, we just want to throw up.

Yes, dear readers, it’s me again. I have nothing else to do tonight because I took a nap on the chaise in the family room after dinner with the remote on my stomach and when I woke up the remote had vanished. I’m assuming it fell and wound up under the chaise, but I’m a disabled old lady with a lot of chronic pain and mobility issues who can’t get down on the floor to look for it. Fortunately ... my maid is coming over tomorrow on a pre-arranged visit to check on my general welfare, and remote retrieval will top her list of very urgent things to do. A few other very urgent things are listed below.

America will never survive the horror of gay Doritos.

It’s 6:15 Sunday morning and I didn’t sleep very well last night. My ongoing low-grade fever broke more than once and left me clammy, unhappy and irritated with soaking wet hair. An hour ago I finally gave up trying to sleep because I also couldn’t breathe — a frequent bonus from my heart condition at no extra charge — and decided to relocate myself to the study for drugs, a cold soda and food. As I write this post I’m rehydrating a bag of Mountain House’s freeze-dried Breakfast Skillet for handicapped senior citizens that includes hash browns, scrambled eggs, sausage, colorful flecks and onions. THIS IS DAMN GOOD STUFF (especially those colorful flecks!) and I’m awfully glad I’ve got two dozen bags of Mountain House freeze-dried whatnots in the study so I won’t starve to death while Sam is out of town. All I have to do is add boiling water.

If you need any additional evidence that Donald Trump is full of shit, here you go.

It’s shortly after 6 p.m. Saturday evening, Sam is in California AND I’M NOT. As I write this post he’s driving around North Hollywood in a brand new Mustang convertible — with the fucking top down and a loud radio! — while I’m trapped alone at home in north Texas, writhing in pain with irritated, bleeding thighs. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?

Bobby Jindal is a confused conservative “moran” on steroids.

Howdy-do and happy Saturday from the bowels of north Texas! I thought I’d get started on a Howdygram post while Sam is packing for his trip to California, which commences about two and a half hours from now when his flight takes off from Love Field. For your possible interest the following map indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; B) Love Field airport; C) the State Fair of Texas in south Dallas, which is a major hoo-hah today full of people eating funnel cakes and deep-fried manure on a stick; D) Sam works here; and E) George Dubya Bush’s house in the snooty Preston Hollow neighborhood.

It’s time once again for the State Fair of Texas.

Today’s the day, people! This was opening day for the State Fair of Texas right here in Dallas. In case you’re interested in shlepping to the Lone Star State for cattle judging, a ride on the Tilt-A-Whirl and a couple of classic corn dogs, please note that the Fair runs from September 25 through October 18 and there are lots of opportunities to get in really cheap or free. These include …

Getting carried away is the story of my life.

In case you didn’t recognize us, THE HOWDYGRAM HAD A MAKEOVER LAST NIGHT! Holy crap, people, this was so much fun I almost had a cow. We’ve got a NEW BANNER, NEW COLORS and some NEW GRAPHICS. I know this is probably insignificant in the grand scheme of life, but I spend a lot more hours staring at this blog than you do ... so every little change is FUCKING HUGE. I’m especially excited about the new text color — gray was getting on my nerves — and the wood-textured banner. Seriously. I was hoping to work on all this while Sam is in California (he leaves tomorrow morning) but I got so carried away I couldn’t wait. Getting carried away is the story of my life.

Dumbass McBullethead doesn’t have enough dough to fill his car with gas.

Happy Wednesday morning from your pals at the Howdygram. After a thoroughly forgettable Day of Fever, Nausea, Joint Pain, the Hangnail from Hell and General Sickness all day yesterday I’m pleased to report that I feel substantially better today even though it’s only 9 a.m. and you never can tell what could go wrong by lunch-time. (No, I’m not an optimist. Deal with it.)

News from Clots “R” Us, Howdygram headquarters’ do-it-yourself blood clot clinic.

Oy. Happy Monday, everybody, from hot and sticky Texas. I just woke up abruptly from an after-lunch nap and I’m not feeling so good in any way whatsoever. Maybe I should put together a comprehensive whine list so you’ll know what the fuck is going on around here.

You never realize how big your house is until you can’t walk any more.

I’m having “mouse issues.” My wireless Apple mouse is skipping, getting stuck, locking up, acting jerky and generally driving me insane. I almost ordered a new one last night from Amazon for $65.99 but decided to hold off for a while until I try a variety of other remedies. First up, at Sam’s suggestion, DITCH MY VERY OLD MOUSE PAD — even though it’s really adorable with his baby picture on it — and just use the mouse on the surface of my desk. I guess it’s worth a shot. Stay tuned for further developments but please feel free to continue your usual Sunday routine in the meantime. (Thank you.)

Mike Ditka has an eight-inch sausage.

Oy, what a nap. I just spent SIX GLORIOUS HOURS on the chaise in the family room without moving a muscle. While this might sound like a really good idea, there are also a bunch of negatives: 1) I didn’t get any lunch; 2) I never took any of my lunch-time meds; 3) I missed two doses of my prescription painkiller; and 4) when I finally woke up I HAD TO PEE LIKE A RACE HORSE. (Probably Secretariat.) In any event, it’s good to be alive.

Be careful what you choose for a snack.

Do you ever wonder who reads the Howdygram besides you? The answer is, LOTS OF PEOPLE! In case you have a few fucks to give, within the last 48 hours the Howdygram has welcomed international visitors from: Budapest, Hungary; St. John’s, Newfoundland; Canterbury, United Kingdom; Mexico; Burnaby, British Columbia; Berlin, Germany; New South Wales, Australia; Oran, Algeria; Melbourne, Australia; San José, Costa Rica; Hobart, Tasmania*; Newmarket, Ontario; Petaling Jaya, Malaysia; Parañaque, Philippines; Nassau, Bahamas; East Sussex, United Kingdom; and Fajardo, Puerto Rico. *Birthplace of Errol Flynn.

Dear Barstool Palin: Go shoot a few mooses and STFU.

I am grieved to report another very, very shitty night’s sleep, maybe the worst experience EVER. I seem to be going through another episode of intense chronic pain and it even hurts like hell to toss and turn in bed. I would’ve just gotten up and migrated into the study. Unfortunately it hurts like hell to WALK, too, so I laid there like a sweaty zombie and MOANED OUT LOUD FOR FOUR FUCKING HOURS.

Thrilling highlights from the second GOP presidential debate.

It’s 5:15 a.m. and I’m upside-down. I fell asleep on the chaise in the family room last night around 11 p.m. AND I JUST WOKE UP. Going to bed at this point is futile because I’m totally wide awake and I’d rather write a Howdygram post now, anyway. Is this your lucky day, or what?

Ridiculous love scenes on film: Dustin Hoffman tries to make a sexy-face at Vanessa Redgrave’s chin.

Hello. It’s 6:45 Wednesday afternoon and I’m running a low-grade fever. The only “plus” is, at least now I know why my joints feel like shit. I’ve been aching more than usual for the last couple of days and woke up this morning feeling like the Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz. The only thing that could make me feel better — aside from a large dose of prescription painkillers — is Chinese food. I was hoping to try a hole-in-the-wall on Gus Thomasson Road called Mr. Teriyaki (somebody left a full-color menu with pictures taped to our front door) except I just found out online THEY CAN’T PASS A HEALTH INSPECTION. Thank God for the Internet! Therefore I’ll have to fall back on my two favorite Chinese restaurants, China City and King China. Of the two, King China has an edge because they have a lot more vegetable dishes like Szechwan String Beans. I LOVE SZECHWAN STRING BEANS!

Even diabetics get attacked by a sweet tooth once in a while.

I was supposed to have an appointment this morning with my cardiologist, Dr. Singh, pictured at right in his best hat. It was just a routine six-month checkup thing to make sure my meds are working nicely (they are) and I’m still alive (I am). I do have one heart-related complaint, however: I’M ALWAYS SHORT OF BREATH. This began a few months ago as an occasional side effect ... and now I have to deal with it almost all the time. I have atrial fibrillation.

I’m definitely in favor of not washing a dish. Ask anybody.

Sam and his brother David — he’s visiting for the weekend! yay! — are in the kitchen eating waffles and coffee, and I’m in the study with an ice cold Diet Sunkist soda and Mountain House scrambled eggs in a bag with bacon. No kidding, people, these Mountain House freeze-dried whatnots are OUTSTANDING. It’s probably more economical to buy the giant gallon cans of this shit but then you’d have to wash a dish afterwards. I’m definitely in favor of NOT washing a dish. Ask anybody.

More senior citizen food reviews and the Howdygram’s new five-chopper rating system.

Happy Friday night to you and yours from the editorial staff at Howdygram headquarters. Sam and I just spent most of the evening hanging a huge arrangement of Marks family photos in the study. It took a couple of weeks for me to scan, restore, print and frame them; Sam did a stellar job hanging them all. What a good-looking bunch of people! Included here are siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, grandparents and a swimming pool.

A salmonella outbreak has been linked to attractive 10-inch cucumbers imported from Mexico.

See? I didn’t forget to write a Howdygram post today after all. I’m right here at my desk in the study with a great big icy glass of Diet Sunkist orange soda. And before I forget, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO SAM AND ME. Yesterday was our ninth wedding anniversary! If you want to send a check or a present please contact me immediately for our shipping address. Thank you in advance for your generosity.

What the fuck ... I’m retired!

I’m not having an especially terrific week. The biggest issue — as usual — is PAIN, this time involving my shitty knees, my shitty feet, my shitty recurring rash and stiffness in my shitty right shoulder and upper arm. THIS SUCKS, PEOPLE. And adding to this mess is an ongoing problem with shortness of breath. Basically I drag myself around the house whining, crying, swearing like a sailor and gasping for air ... probably the most repulsive sight on God’s green earth not counting Donald Trump.

Let’s get a pizza and celebrate.

Hi. It’s me. I just realized I forgot to write a Howdygram post on Friday — horrors! — and then let Saturday slip away from me, too. I am without excuse, I suppose, not counting chronic pain, extra naps, horsing around with Sam and enjoying a first Face Time experience with my best girlfriend in Chicago who thinks I still look like I’m in high school. (Apparently she wasn’t wearing her glasses.) Anyway, I’ve got a variety of topics and news updates to share with you tonight so I’m thinking I’ll just do my favorite neat little indented paragraphs with subheads. Thank you.

Two things: 1) I went to the doctor this morning; and 2) I just saved us $25,000.

Happy Thursday afternoon from Howdygram headquarters! This has been a day of remarkable accomplishments for yours truly, which I’ll list for you below in neat subtitled paragraphs, with photos and illustrations whenever possible. Thank you.

Barstool Palin, America’s shriekiest serial unwed mother, weighs in on the “Denali” brouhaha.

It’s a HUGE WEEK around here for this hungry senior citizen, because all the Mountain House freeze-dried meals I ordered from Wal-Mart and CampSaver.com will be arriving via FedEx today and tomorrow! You may remember my Howdygram post from August 29 when I explained that Sam will be out of town for a few days at the end of this month and I’ll be on my own for meal preparation ... but that’s NOT a good thing because my overall mobility is so fucking shot to hell now that I can’t stand up long enough to nuke two corn dogs. That’s when I Googled and discovered Mountain House freeze-dried entrees for campers senior citizens. Just pour hot water into the foil pouch, zip it shut, wait a few minutes and PRESTO BLAMMO ... real food with gravy! I ordered all of the following entrees this week in addition to a set of plastic salt & pepper shakers and a lightweight measuring cup for my desk in the study in case I can’t haul my ass into the kitchen. That’s a very long walk when you’re dealing with pain issues. I’m not kidding, either.