Go choke on an armadillo, you rotten douchebag!

I’ll bet you thought I wasn’t going to publish a Howdygram post today. You were almost right, but about 15 minutes ago I decided to hang out in the study for a while to refill my weekly pill organizer — do we know how to have fun on a Saturday night or what? — and suddenly had an overwhelming urge to type a bunch of baloney. (You can thank me later.)

Home-delivered Buffalo wings are a very big hoo-hah indeed.

I was just jolted awake from a really nice Saturday afternoon nap on the chaise in the family room even though I’m still really tired. This has been happening to me almost every day for the last few weeks. It seems that I’ve got a “dying” nerve in my right hip — an issue that’s related to diabetic peripheral neuropathy — and it radiates down the outside of my thigh AND HURTS LIKE HELL. The pain starts about 90 minutes into my nap and wakes me up almost immediately like getting slapped across the face. Sometimes it goes away if I shift positions a little, but usually I just have to wake up and get my ass off the chaise. Holy shit, right? NOW IT EVEN HURTS TO TAKE A NAP.

Diabetes stinks.

It’s 6 a.m. Saturday morning and I think we should talk about diabetes for a few minutes, okay? The problem is, I’ve been having TWILIGHT ZONE LOW BLOOD SUGAR for the last couple of days ... sort of nonstop unexplained hypoglycemia even after eating carby food that’s supposed to do the exact OPPOSITE. For instance, at lunch time yesterday I injected the correct dose of insulin and ate a plate of really nice teeny tacos from Costco; two hours later my blood sugar tested at 42 — well within the medically-accepted HOLY-SHIT-THERE’S-A-CHANCE-A-PERSON-COULD-DIE-FROM-THIS range — and scared the living crap out of me due to there’s no way I should be on the verge of a diabetic coma after eating a pile of tacos! My blood sugar should be around 130, not 42. Just when I think I’ve finally started to understand the physiology of insulin and carbohydrates, something stupid like THIS comes along and fucks me up. DIABETES STINKS.

News flash. I can’t warm up today.

Hello from Texas. I’M FREEZING MY ASS OFF. It’s 33° outside right now ... windy, slightly damp and thoroughly shitty. I’ve got my space heater on in the study and I’m considering a hot shower — with the water temperature set to “steam” — to try and warm up. This is all extremely unpleasant to senior citizens such as yours truly who suffer from internal thermostat issues. (I feel hypothermic in the middle of SUMMER.)

West Virginia lawmakers are discussing legal protection for the beautiful babies of rape.

Hi, people. I want to begin this post with our latest Putz of the Week honoree, a lowlife state delegate in West Virginia named Brian Kurcaba, who made the following jaw-dropping remark this week during a House of Delegates discussion of a law to ban all abortions in the state after 20 weeks: “Obviously rape is awful,” but “what is beautiful is the child that could come from this.” Holy mother of crap. Beautiful RAPE BABIES!

I treated myself to a fun new fashion accessory today. It’s the Handy-Dandy Senior Citizen Leg-Shlepper!

Hi, people. This is a happy day at Howdygram headquarters due to finally taking a new prescription medication — Gabapentin — that really relieves a lot of my pain. I FEEL LIKE A DIFFERENT PERSON. Gabapentin also makes me sleepy, sluggish, blurry and slow, but I can live with that. I have nowhere to go, I don’t drive, I’m not entered in a race and nobody gives a shit if I’m cockeyed.

Hanukkah does not involve Baby Jesus in any way whatsoever.

Because nobody probably gives a crap about this except me, I’d be willing to bet you and your loved ones haven’t noticed the monumental changes I made to the Howdygram tonight. Give up? I lightened the gray text in the posts and switched to a darker shade of blue for the headlines and links. (There was no particular reason for any of this. I think I was bored.)

My Epson WorkForce 3640 printer could be my new best friend.

It’s late Sunday night, Sam is in the family room — unconscious, probably — watching The Lemon Drop Kid (1951) starring Bob Hope and Marilyn Maxwell, one of our favorite holiday movies. Actually, I love Bob Hope in just about anything with the exception being 1956’s The Iron Petticoat co-starring Katharine Hepburn, a atrocious stab at a cold war comedy that makes Attack of the Crab Monsters look like Ben-Hur. Earlier tonight we also watched The Man Who Came to Dinner (1942) starring Bette Davis, Monty Woolley and Ann Sheridan. A large volume of popcorn accompanied these activities.

This is the “Judi-Denchiest” haircut I’ve had in years.

Holy crap, everybody ... I LOVE MY HOUSE CALL HAIR STYLIST! Noell’s visit only lasted 19 minutes from start to finish today but this is the “Judi-Denchiest” haircut (that’s Judi Dench in the teeny photo at right) I’ve had in YEARS, and I’m so excited I’ve been shopping around online for a cheap but effective styling wax so I can get some spiky things going on. Years ago I used a nice little product by American Crew but their prices are OUTRAGEOUS now, and since I never leave the house I really can’t justify blowing $18 on a little tin of pomade so I can sit on the sofa with cute hair and watch a Myrna Loy movie. Therefore I think I’ve finally settled on FX Molding Wax because it’s only four bucks online from Wal-Mart and I’ll be able to piggyback it with my next order for pickles and toilet paper.

Reasons why I didn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday. In four indented paragraphs.

The blogging gods were against me yesterday. I tried ALL DAMN DAY to write this post but a variety of annoying crap and aggravation wouldn’t let me. A complete explanation appears below in nicely-organized, indented paragraphs. (You’re welcome.)

I’ve discovered the perfect, squeak-free pre-popped popcorn.

The lying sacks of poo at Weather.com are forecasting thunderstorms today for the drought-ravaged Dallas metro area. We haven’t had any rain here since two days of really pathetic sprinkles back in mid-September that brought the month’s total rainfall to barely half an inch. That’s 2.5 inches below “normal.” We’re screwed. WE NEED RAIN AND WE NEED IT IMMEDIATELY BECAUSE CATTLE CAN’T DRINK DUST. The big hoo-hah is supposed to start around 4 with “severe storms” and “locally heavy rainfall.” (I’ll believe it when I see it.)

L’shanah tovah from Marcy and Sam.

Rosh Hashanah — year 5775 on the Hebrew calendar — kicked off about 45 minutes ago when the sun went down, so this would be a perfect opportunity to wish y’all a VERY HAPPY NEW YEAR if you’re Jewish like we are! Sam and I aren’t observant, although we cling to the really important traditions like gefilte fish and yahrzeit candles.

Yoders canned bacon: The stuff that dreams are made of.

I don’t want to jinx myself or anything, but I FEEL REALLY TERRIFIC TODAY. The excruciating pain in my left heel (from plantar fasciitis) has dropped from a level 10 to a level 2 on the Official Howdygram Agony Scale, I have zero pain whatsoever in my arthritic knees, and for the time being most of my other frequent complaints are currently nonexistent, too. These would include such ailments as scary-low body temperature, crappy bladder control, useless hands due to diabetic peripheral neuropathy and a very itchy back.

Tide Pods are mankind’s single greatest invention of the 21st century (so far).

Today’s secret word, boys and girls, is LAUNDRY, and while I’m barely functioning on three hours of sleep and feeling slightly inebriated, hypoglycemic and oddly confused, I will continue typing and laundering until my forehead hits the desk or I run out of socks and underwear. I’m guessing this will be around 4:17 p.m. (Hey. At least my feet don’t hurt.)