Look out for low-flying skull-shaped asteroids.

I’ll open this post with the usual bullshit: MARCY’S WHINE LIST. After spending nearly all day asleep on the chaise in the family room — from 10:30 a.m. when Sam left to retrieve two prescriptions at Wal-Mart until 4:45 this afternoon — I eventually woke up with an exploding bladder, a pounding headache, low blood sugar and stiff as a board due to missing three doses of pain medication. Now that I’m conscious and upright I’d like to add these additional complaints to the aforementioned list: 1) the hypersensitive skin on the back of my thighs is raw and bleeding again; 2) my low-grade fever is creeping back up; and 3) I just yanked a hangnail.

Fuck Halloween.

Good morning, how’s the family and “boo” from Howdygram headquarters. It’s Saturday, October 31 — Halloween — my least favorite day of the year because this is such a goddamn stupid holiday whenever it involves anybody over the age of 11. Yesterday, for instance, Sam went to the dentist to have a molar extracted and the dentist and all of his office staff WERE WEARING HALLOWEEN COSTUMES. He said Dr. Villarreal, who’s about 27 years old, was dressed as one of the Mario Brothers. And as Sam was leaving the receptionist actually asked him what he was “going as” for Halloween.

Campbell’s Bean with Bacon soup is one of the major joys of life. Try it.

Hello from the bowels of Howdygram headquarters, where I’ve been sick for TWO WHOLE DAYS with a raging fever. Mostly I’ve been drifting between the bathroom, bed, my desk in the study and the chaise in the family room ... whining, bitching, moaning, shivering and being altogether NOT VERY HAPPY. I don’t have an appetite but it’s almost 7:30 p.m. and I’m thinking I’d better rehydrate a Mountain House freeze-dried entree for senior citizens just to keep my blood sugar stable.

I’m loaded with fever germs today so why don’t you just drop off a big bag of snacks at the front door.

I hope Thursday is starting off better for YOU than for ME, because I’ve still got that fever hoo-hah going on. It was 101.2° when I woke up this morning at 4:45 to pish, and even though it’s down a little now I still feel like TOTAL CRAP. Other symptoms include no appetite, watery eyes and an overwhelming desire to watch my favorite David Niven movies, which is a good thing because I’ve got several to choose from on our DVR. These include Bachelor Mother (1939) with Ginger Rogers, Please Don’t Eat the Daisies (1960) with Doris Day and Around the World in 80 Days (1956). I’d invite you to come over and watch with me, but I’m loaded with fever germs today so why don’t you just drop off a big bag of snacks at the front door and we’ll call it a day.

Will somebody please email me a bowl of hot chicken noodle soup and a coloring book with 48 crayons.

Oy, people, I feel so goddamn lousy right now I don’t think I can type! I woke up from an afternoon nap about 20 minutes ago with every joint in my body completely locked-up and screaming in pain, I’m running a substantial fever — no kidding, 100.8° is very high for me because “normal” is 97° — I have zero appetite and I feel so limp I want to CRY. I don’t know what I want to do right now aside from binge-drinking hot tea and popping large doses of Norco. Once the meds kick in I’m considering suicide a nice hot shower, maybe shaving my pits and another nap.

Be sure to tune in to tonight’s clown car debates for comedy gold. It doesn’t get much better than this.

It’s 8 o’clock Wednesday morning. While I wait for Sam to nuke my breakfast — a juicy Schwan’s Sausage, Egg & Cheese biscuit on a paper plate — I’m parked at my desk in the study nursing on a can of Diet Sunkist while I program two weeks of fabulous movies to record on our DVR. (Programming your DVR online is one of the best features of AT&T U-Verse.) A few of my selections include ...

This is your last chance to send me a present for my birthday.

This is it, people ... THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE TO SEND ME A PRESENT FOR MY BIRTHDAY, which is November 1. You’ve got four stinking days left to find a way to put a smile on an old lady’s face. Please review Marcy’s Birthday Wish List and send an email if you need my shipping address. Thank you in advance for your overwhelming generosity.

Gift ideas just in time for Hanukkah.

Greetings and salutations, Howdygramsters! While I sit here digesting a bag of Mountain House freeze-dried entrees for senior citizens and pondering the next phase of my Monday evening activities — a hot shower, cookies and a nap come to mind — I thought I’d produce my second post of the day and kill a little time. You’re welcome.

An ode to drugs, “Columbo,” frozen food and Sam. (Not necessarily in that order.)

There are a million things wrong with me tonight, and that’s a conservative estimate. They include: 1) severe joint pain due to not taking my meds five hours ago while I was asleep in the family room watching “Columbo” DVDs; 2) a persistent low-grade fever; 3) pain in my left heel; 4) chills, body aches, a nasty rash and a relentless yet aggravating urge to pish, all the result of item number two; 5) a dull headache; and 6) shortness of breath. Put them all together and you get FUCK THIS SHIT!

Jeb Bush is uninspired, rude, deflated and demented with a shitload of entitled privilege.

Happy Sunday morning to you and yours from the crew at Howdygram headquarters! Sam is driving around town doing errands and I’m holding down the proverbial fort with a can of Diet Sunkist. As soon as my latest round of pain meds kick in I’m planning on a nice hot shower to try to rinse off yesterday’s Miserable Day of Illness and Agony during which my Shit-O-Meter reading hit the number 10 mark more than once. My complaints included: 1) severe joint pain due to heavy thunderstorms and an approaching cold front; 2) a low-grade fever; 3) a rash; 4) gas pains; 5) a headache; 6) nausea; and 7) I can’t think of anything else. Plus Sam dropped a wad of brown gravy on the family room carpet. My day was hell.

Welcome to Stormageddon.

Because I’ve received so many emails and inquiries from Howdygram readers today I’ve decided to write a weather-related post due to the intense Stormageddon that’s going on around here. For starters, our freakishly wet weekend began last night around 10 p.m., pummeling us with noisy and powerful thunderstorms all night long as well as all day today. So far we’ve had almost five inches of rain at Howdygram headquarters in Mesquite ... and we’re just getting started! Here’s a screen shot of the rainfall totals from WFAA-TV here in Dallas as of 5 p.m. Friday afternoon. (FYI, “Dallas Love” refers to Love Field Airport.)

Yesterday’s Benghazi comedy was an 11-hour commercial showcasing Hillary Clinton’s presidential qualifications.

Hi, kids. What’s shakin’ at YOUR house today? I’m rehydrating a bag of Mountain House freeze-dried Scrambled Eggs with Ham & Peppers — the perfect protein-rich breakfast for senior citizens with mobility issues! — while Sam and I enjoy Friday morning thunderstorms with lots of really swell and welcome rainfall.

Wonderful fluffy shit from HSN, just in time for all your Hanukkah shopping!

Once upon a time Sam went to Costco and I stayed home with a bucket of unfolded socks and underpants. (That has to be the best lede sentence I’ve ever written.) In case you’re wondering why I stay home, Sam always goes to Costco alone for the following excellent reasons: 1) it’s faster and cheaper without me; and 2) I’ve got a variety of mobility impairments that make shlepping and shopping difficult, annoying and uncomfortable. Our shopping list today includes chicken flautas, teeny tacos, spicy guacamole cups, Cape Cod chicken salad with smashed cranberries, sliced roast beef for sandwiches, grapefruit cups, and a box of frozen Angus pre-cooked hamburger patties with genuine grill marks.

Introducing Rootin’-Tootin’ Sam’s Wild West Toenail Clinic.

I feel compelled to write a second Howdygram post today due to very juicy incoming weather for the weekend and the pending launch of our exciting new Rootin’-Tootin’ Sam’s Wild West Toenail Clinic. There’s so much news I can hardly stand it!

I can’t believe nobody ever complained about three bimbos bathing in Hooterville’s water supply.

I’ve got millions of things to tell you today, people. MILLIONS! It’s enough to make a blogger’s brain explode with excitement! (Not really. Occasionally I lean towards hyperbole.) But I’ll begin my post with today’s Shit-O-Meter reading because the news is pretty damn good. This is due to two extended and unexpected naps on Tuesday and six hours of uninterrupted sleep overnight.

Hey there, gullible shoppers, Hayneedle is having a “yooge” dining room sale!

Good morning, hi, howdy-do, shalom and how’s the family! I’m deliriously thrilled to report that summer might finally be over here in north Texas, as evidenced by the decidedly non-summery forecast from the meteorology goobers at Weather.com.

Mazel tov. Caitlyn Jenner has morphed into an elderly, self-absorbed Kardashian.

It’s 2:30 Monday afternoon, Sam is on his way to work and I’ve got a bag of Mountain House Noodles & Chicken for hungry senior citizens rehydrating on my desk here in the study. Sam usually makes lunch for me before he goes to work but today was a little different, as both of us were exhausted and unconscious until well past 1 p.m. and I was too discombobulated (isn’t that a fabulous word?) to make any intelligent decisions about food. That’s why I love these Mountain House things. Just add boiling water and you’ve got AN INSTANT TASTY MEAL! Plus, if you eat right out of the bag, like I do, you don’t even have to rinse any dishes afterwards. Life is amazing, isn’t it?

“Storm in a Teacup” is on TCM this week. Bring over a box of Lorna Doones and let’s watch together, okay?

Good morning, happy Sunday and shalom from Texas, y’all. I’ll begin this post the same way I begin many of them: WITH A GODDAMN PAIN REPORT. Here for your possible interest is my latest Shit-O-Meter reading.

Sign the petition! Tell NBC to dump Trump as guest host of “Saturday Night Live.”

It’s 8:30 Friday morning and I’m waiting for Sam to deliver my breakfast from the kitchen. This includes two Schwan’s corn dogs, a tall glass of Diet Sunkist with ice and a couple of napkins. Slaves are good.

Hey, you. I need a toe truck.

You may have missed this breaking news story on CNN, but about an hour ago I began my sleepy Thursday morning with a devastating and thoroughly unanticipated life-threatening injury. I bumped the big toenail on my left foot as I slid into a fluffy memory foam slipper using slightly more velocity that usual and wound up in a scene from M*A*S*H*. It was a fucking BLOODBATH around here, people, and I had to wake Sam to wrap my toe in toilet paper and say nice things to me.

The Little Slobster. Everywhere he goes he leaves a trail of dirt, crud, rust, paint, grease, crumbs, shit and spackle.

Good afternoon, dear readers, and a deliriously happy Wednesday to you and yours! Because I’ve got several million unique and moderately interesting news items to share with you today I’d better begin immediately or else I’ll fall asleep. Thank you for putting up with me.

It’s time to stop the fairytales and tell the goddamn truth about Columbus Day.

I love the “blank canvas” of a composition page when it’s time to work on a brand new Howdygram post. At this point I can go ANYWHERE, and I usually surprise myself, although today I’m suffering from a new kind of tsouris and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to sit here typing. To cut to the chase: I’M ZONING OUT. Every few minutes I drift into a dense fog, can’t focus my eyes and start blinking like a maniac to try and stay awake. My only remedy would be a nice tasty freeze-dried Mountain House entree for senior citizens about an hour from now, for dinner. I’m considering either Chili Mac or Noodles & Chicken. If you’d like to voice your preference please do so IMMEDATELY by clicking right here. (Thank you.)

Oh my God, I just belched. I can go to bed now!

I’m having a very, very lousy night. I wanted to go to bed at the same time as Sam two hours ago (at midnight) except: 1) I’ve got severe pain in my chest due to an inability to belch like a truck driver; 2) my eyes are watering; 3) the skin on the back of my thighs is raw and bleeding again; and 4) I think that’s enough. To amuse myself while I wait for a good belch and an opportunity to take my next round of Norco I just designed a cute new mousepad for myself and ordered it from Zazzle. (It beats crying.)

Texans are ready for fall. Please send some as soon as possible.

Howdy-do from Texas, everybody! It’s another unwelcome and thoroughly unnecessary hot and sticky summer day in the middle of October, which also happens to be our fourth consecutive month with NO FUCKING RAIN. Here’s a look at the week ahead courtesy of Weather.com. Texans are ready for fall. Please send some as soon as possible.

A closer look at Dr. Ben Carson ... neurosurgeon, presidential candidate and putz.

Oy, I did something really, really dumb. I accidentally took two 10 mg Norco tablets a little while ago, and now I’m drifting into a dense, hopeless fog of pea soup and peanut butter. I would “live blog” this descent into a Saturday night drug-induced coma but I’m afraid I’ll stop typing mid-sentence and scare everybody half to death. Holy shit, I feel weird.

Greg Abbott is planning to roll back the state’s handicap access regulations ... and he’s a paraplegic in a wheelchair!

While Sam heads off to Wal-Mart to pick up potato chips, potato salad, sugar-free Jell-O cups and a couple of prescriptions — DRUGS! I NEED MY GODDAMN DRUGS! — I will stay behind to maintain law and order at Howdygram headquarters. (You have no idea how rowdy it can get around here. Seriously.)

A waste of time, a waste of energy, a waste of gas and a waste of breath mints.

I can sum up this morning’s appointment with my kidney specialist, who I hadn’t seen in almost two years, as follows: WHAT A GODDAMN WASTE OF TIME. My primary care physician never told Dr. Hsu why I was coming to see her, so she had to assume it wasn’t a big deal or she would have received a call and a fax about it. What the fuck? So Sam and I sat and kibbitzed with Dr. Hsu for six or seven minutes, a phlebotomist drew a tube of blood for no apparent reason whatsoever, and the doctor’s parting words from the doorway were: “Stop at the reception desk on your way out. I’d like to see you again in a year.”

Oy! Time marches on!

It’s a crazy-busy Wednesday morning here at Howdygram headquarters! We’re running the dishwasher, Sam is getting ready to throw a load of sheets into the washing machine and I’m seriously considering a chicken salad sandwich for lunch today on rye bread or Seasoned Meat Slabs for Senior Citizens with Grill Marks and Low-Carb Pasta Rice. I’m so excited in advance I can hardly stand it!

Note to parents: Do not raise entitled assholes. Thank you.

Yo, everybody. As I write this post I’m being bombarded by weird noises from the laundry room while an energetic service technician named Ricardo performs a routine tune-up on our GE Profile gas dryer (pictured below) and sucks stray lint from the vents and hoses. I’m told this is a really swell thing to do every couple of years, which makes sense. It’s definitely cheaper than buying a new dryer.

Donald Trump believes that entertainment value and ratings make him the savior of America.

I think it would be swell if South Carolina sent us an inch or two of rain because we haven’t had any measurable precipitation here since the second week of June. And please let me repeat this in case you’re not paying attention: IT HASN’T RAINED HERE SINCE THE SECOND WEEK OF JUNE. The only reason the local authorities still allow us to shower and flush the toilet is because we had a 20-inch deluge back in May that filled the reservoirs. Other than that, we’re fucked. And there’s nothing in the forecast, either, as you’ll note on the following graphic from Weather.com. Summer temperatures, zero rain, lots of sun. We could croak from the boredom here already.

Do not buy your dining room set from a website. You can thank me later.

Hello, and I’ve got EXTREMELY SHOCKING NEWS on this balmy Sunday night at Howdygram headquarters: I HAVE ZERO PAIN WHATSOEVER. I would NOT joke about this! After starting so many posts with annoying chronic pain updates I’m pleased to announce NO PAIN tonight. I’m not sure how long this will last, mind you, but it’s sure nice to know I can get ahead of it now and then. For your possible interest here’s my latest Shit-O-Meter readout.

Shut up and deal with it.

It’s amazing how much I don’t feeling like writing a Howdygram post when I’m dealing with physical pain. I apologize if I whine, but there are times I can’t help myself so you’ll just have to SHUT UP AND DEAL WITH IT. This morning, for instance, I’ve got stinging and burning skin issues on the back of my thighs that never seems to end unless I lie down on the chaise in the family room or find a comfortable position in bed. Otherwise it ABSOLUTELY SUCKS. I apologize if you’re sick of hearing about this. (Seriously.)

Sam is coming home today.

It’s 9:20 Friday morning and Sam comes home from California today. THIS IS A VERY BIG DEAL! To celebrate the occasion I injected insulin, ate a bag of Mountain House freeze-dried Biscuits & Gravy for senior citizens for breakfast, and tried (and failed) to make the bed because there’s a limit to what a handicapped old woman can do with a cane in one hand. Also I wasn’t very motivated.

Pay attention to your credit cards, people.

I forgot to include this juicy moronic tidbit in my last post so I thought I’d do another, okay? This time I want to discuss Jon Ritzheimer, the Muslim-hating militia asswipe in Arizona who’s really just a great big man-baby pussy. Ritzheimer and his pals (his pals are the ones in camo gear) like to show up heavily armed at local Mosques — at prayer time — occasionally decked out in “FUCK ISLAM” tee shirts, so Jon can sob on YouTube about getting unfair Facebook death threats and scream “THIS IS TERRORISM IN AMERICA!” while he sets up a GoFundMe page to grift Americans for $10 million so he and his family can relocate and hide out in luxury.

Note to Wayne LaPierre: There’s blood on your hands again, asshole!

Remember in my last post when I ruminated about maybe feeling better later in the day after consuming a large volume of my favorite prescription painkiller? It didn’t happen, people. I’ve had enough continuous doses of Norco since 7 a.m. Wednesday to sink a battleship ... BUT I STILL FEEL LIKE SHIT. Fortunately, my maid dropped in around 1 p.m. to make sure I’m still alive here and brought a bag of McDonald’s; I may feel lousy but at least I’m eating well. In case you’re interested, as much as I love them I honestly didn’t think I could face another day of those Mountain House freeze-dried entrees for senior citizens.