Senior citizens try to get a grip on the twenty-first century.

My project du jour, which I just finished, involved choosing and organizing cards for my 2018 birthday card list. I design my own greeting cards and order them from my store on Zazzle, mailing about 45 altogether throughout the year to relatives and friends. They’re fucking adorable even if I say so myself, and I’ve got some of the funniest cards on the Internet. I sell a lot of them. Of course I’d be even happier if YOU bought a few, but what the hell … do whatever you want, okay? Some of my designs appear below for your possible interest.

Please remember the Alamo tonight after you floss, okay?

Sam and Josh went “gallavanting” today. Due to inclement weather — i.e., an ice storm — in Oklahoma they had to skip their excursion to the Choctaw Casino in favor of sleeping late and a bowl of oatmeal followed by a driving tour of nearby cattle country, which is practically across the street. The following map indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters; and B) cattle ranches. Seriously, I wouldn’t kid you about cattle ranches.

Open for business ... our Clots “R” Us Do-It-Yourself Blood Clot Clinic.

Shalom, good morning and hi-de-ho to you and yours on this dismal Tuesday morning in north Texas. It’s really, really overcast right now. There’s no rain in the forecast, though, so I guess we’ll just have to deal with clouds. Meh.

For the first time in several weeks I feel compelled to post a Shit-O-Meter readout.

I want very much to write a Howdygram post right now but I’m in too much goddamn pain to sit still. It’s 12:30 Friday morning, half an hour past midnight, and I’ve already taken more than enough pain meds ... BUT EVERYTHING STILL HURTS! I’m referring to the hypersensitive skin on the back of both thighs from pressure sores, blood blisters and diabetic neuropathy. This is absolutely AWFUL tonight, and for the first time in several weeks I feel compelled to post the following Shit-O-Meter readout.

The Howdygram’s official Clots “R” Us Do-It-Yourself Blood Clot Clinic is open for business.

Good Thursday morning, boys and girls! It’s 6 a.m., Sam just left for work and I have nothing special planned for the rest of the day except for: 1) writing this post; 2) injecting insulin and taking piles of pills; 3) working on new designs for coffee mugs and can coolers for The Howdygram Store; 4) hunting for free fonts; and 5) testing my INR (blood clotting speed) with a finger-stabby thing and emailing the results to Dr. M.

Our Clots “R” Us Do-It-Yourself Blood Clot Clinic was open for business this afternoon.

Hi, guys. I considered skipping today’s Howdygram post for one reason and one reason only: I can’t think of anything to write, not counting the following potential subjects: 1) I’m heading into another battle with Dr. M’s office regarding why the fuck don’t they respond to prescription refill requests; 2) if you’ve never tried Hormel Compleats’ Chicken Breast with Mashed Potatoes and Gravy you’re in for a glorious surprise; 3) I’ve got seven more new free fonts for you; and 4) my Clots “R” Us Do-It-Yourself Blood Clot Clinic was open for business this afternoon.

Jeb Bush is happy that his campaign is circling the drain. Because now for sure he’ll get to be President.

Good morning, shalom, howdy-do and what’s cookin’ from your friends at Howdygram headquarters! It’s almost 10 p.m. and I’ve been busy tonight mostly browsing for new fonts — oy, I’m so goddamn addicted! — in addition to eating a tasty little instant mashed potato cup, taking a variety of drugs and participating in my monthly Clots “R” Us do-it-yourself blood clot clinic.

Fuck shoes and fuck brassieres.

Y’all will be pleased to know I’m feeling greatly improved today, which is very good news (for me, at least) and an encouraging sign as we head into another lovely north Texas autumn weekend ... even though I never leave the house, which would involve wearing shoes and a brassiere. FUCK SHOES AND FUCK BRASSIERES. Thank you.

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.

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.

The time at the tone will be 4:28 a.m. (Beep.)

I’m not having an easy time here. Poor Sam is FUCKING MISERABLE with head-to-toe poison ivy blisters and I had my own very bad day with chronic pain that included knees, heels, feet, hands, raw bleeding skin on the back of my thighs, a migraine headache and screaming nerve endings. Sam manages to sleep through his misery but I can’t. I tried for two whole hours to fall asleep in bed but eventually gave up and hauled my ass into the study. I can always find distractions on the Internet. The time at the tone will be 4:28 a.m. (Beep.)

Bristol Palin is a Bible-beating “family values” harpy.

Good afternoon, y’all, and welcome to the Howdygram’s Clots “R” Us clinic! I just did a monthly blood test to check my coagulation time using my very own ritzy $1,400 CoaguChek XS blood-test meter, and I’m pleased to report that my pro-thrombin (PT) time today registered at 2.5. I sent an email to Dr. M with the results. Sam and I love not having to shlep to the lab every month to have this done and it also saves us a $25 insurance copay. Plus finger-stabbing is a real gas and you should try it sometime. BLOOD ROCKS!

Puncturing my fingers is huge fun and I look forward to every opportunity.

I can’t believe I never wrote a Howdygram post yesterday. I wanted to. I tried. I even made a list of possible topics. Ultimately I wound up giving very few fucks, took an extra nap and watched The Runaway Bus (1954) starring Margaret Rutherford, Frankie Howerd and Petula Clark. A brief movie review appears below for your possible interest.

Sam is so goddamn adorable I want to eat him on a bagel.

I always enjoy the promise of a shiny new day, especially when I felt like COMPLETE TOTAL CRAP when I went to bed the night before. It must be something about end-of-the-day fatigue that makes the pain in my body exponentially worse. Every night without fail I drag myself from the family room to the bedroom whining, crying, dizzy, slightly nauseated, out of breath and scaring the bejeezus out of Sam who, I must admit, has finally figured out how to cope with this quite well. Instead of trying to help me (which he really can’t) he stands a few feet ahead of me barking encouragement like a middle school football coach, such as YOU’RE ALMOST THERE! YOU CAN DO IT! GREAT JOB! ONLY A FEW MORE STEPS TO GO! Sam is so goddamn adorable I want to eat him on a bagel.

I don’t care if Florida sinks and I don’t give a shit about spotted owls.

Good morning, shalom, pass the soy sauce and how’s the family! We survived a night of wild storms here at Howdygram headquarters that included an awesome feast from King China accompanied by heavy rain, thunder, lightning and powerful swooshy wind with no basketball-size hail. (Thank God for no hail. Nobody needs hail.) To celebrate the day after another crazy Texas storm I would like to post all of the important events currently filling my agenda. In case you give a crap.

Barry Manilow revealed today that he gay-married his long-time manager in 2014.

I’ve got all kinds of good news for you this afternoon, so let’s get started, okay? I’ll do my popular subtitled paragraph format to help you keep track of what’s what. Thank you.

I’ve always believed I was raised by wolves in the forest.

I’m going to type this post at tip-top speed because it’s 4:30 a.m. AND I HAVE A MILLION THINGS TO TELL YOU! (Years ago I was clocked at 125 words per minute ... so you’d better hang on.)