Our latest Putz of the Week is Kory Watkins, an anorexic douchebag in a combat fedora.

Yo from Howdygram headquarters, people. It’s Sunday night and I just woke up from another extended nap to write a quick post before I join Sam in the family room for popcorn and a couple of our favorite movies. The popcorn is Pop Secret; the movies are The Talk of the Town (1942) starring Jean Arthur, Cary Grant and Ronald Colman and The Bachelor and the Bobby-Soxer (1947) starring a whole bunch of fabulous people such as Cary Grant, Myrna Loy and Shirley Temple. I LOVE SUNDAY NIGHTS!

Do not trifle with me, people. I’m an Amazon Prime member.

It’s 6:55 Sunday morning. The house is quiet, Sam is on his way to McDonald’s to buy me a Sausage McMuffin and I’ve got A STEAMING PILE OF AMAZING NEWS to share with you! Here goes.

Senior citizens should never ignore a craving for greasy fish.

It’s 3:30 Saturday morning. I tried to go to bed at 2 with Sam but I never fell asleep because I’m feeling especially crappy right now. My current complaints include: 1) foot pain; 2) shin pain; 3) a repulsive wet rash in various locations on my body; and 4) I think that’s enough. If I get really tired at some point I might migrate to the chaise in the family room, but for now I’ll just hang out here with you. Thank you for putting up with me.

Weather.com is like a psycho middle school boyfriend who only tells you shit he thinks you want to hear.

Yo! Sam was out and about this morning with a “honey-do” list while I held down the fort here at Howdygram headquarters. Fort-holding-down demands no particular skill whatsoever and usually only requires not spilling my Marcytini, staying awake and answering the phone if anybody calls. And in case you’re interested, Sam’s errands included a drop-off at the dry cleaner, driving past the post office to mail our holiday cards and a trip to Tom Thumb for sugar-free Jell-O cups, teeny bottles of Coke Zero for the mini-fridge in the study and a juicy, ready-to-eat turkey breast (see below) on sale for $8.99. Yum, right?

A mental hospital is the perfect address for gun rights activists.

Know why I didn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday? BECAUSE I DIDN’T WANT TO. Actually, I might be lying a little. I really DID want to but I got caught up in a bunch of other baloney that included all of the following: 1) blowing off my 9:30 a.m. appointment with Dr. M due to getting zero sleep the night before and feeling like total shit; 2) designing, printing and addressing our Hanukkah and generic nondenominational unoffensive seasons greetings cards; 3) a four-hour nap directly related to item number one; 4) a late afternoon hypoglycemic episode; and 5) watching Wednesday’s recorded episode of “Top Chef,” during which Adam got eliminated for serving the judges squeaky uncooked shrimp and George rejoined the cast after a sudden death cookoff against Katie, who made a clearly lousy braised rabbit.

Rick Perry’s views on income inequality in Texas: “We don’t grapple with that here.”

It finally happened, guys. I HAD A NERVOUS BREAKDOWN TODAY. Trying to catch up after another sleepless night I was attempting my daily early afternoon nap in the family room ... and THE GODDAMN PHONE WOULDN’T STOP RINGING. There were three calls in a row less five minutes apart — all PRE-RECORDED BULLSHIT about Life Alert or senior citizen crap — until I started shrieking for Sam to disconnect the phone before I rip it out of the wall and throw it through a plate glass window. As soon as he figured out how to silence the ringer on both cordless handsets I slept until 4 p.m., uninterrupted. It was GLORIOUS.

Old age isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be, people.

Hi, guys. I’ve had a fun-filled, jam-packed day that included a juicy nap immediately following lunch with Sam, cleaning out two big cabinets in the study and ordering some fun crapola from Amazon. The fun crapola is pictured below. First, a big package of nice 24-lb. Epson inkjet paper for my new Epson inkjet printer and a package of fancy-ass foil-lined A7 envelopes to go with my holiday cards. I always make my own.

This might be an excellent moment in time for Tiger Woods to consider a few other career options.

I’m not a multi-tasker and it’s always been really hard for me to do more than one thing at a time. Such as RIGHT NOW, for instance. After Sam went to bed a couple of hours ago I had an overwhelming creative urge to horse around with the Howdygram but also thought it might be a fine time to install the new Epson WorkForce 3640 printer/scanner drivers and utility software on Sam’s iMac, which is practically the same as my iMac except a lot fewer fonts and he’s got crumbs on his keyboard. Also coffee.

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.

Saturday night included spectacular goyishe Christmas lights and a pleasant trip to Eatzi’s.

Here’s some huge, juicy breaking news from our Guess Which Senior Citizen Finally Hauled Her Creaky Ass Out of the House department! Sam and I actually drove into Dallas last night and looked at some spectacular goyishe Christmas lights in the Highland Park neighborhood. Here are a few samples in case you give a crap.

Cheap Epson photo paper is nothing at which to sneeze in any way whatsoever.

You might not believe this, but I never got around to writing a post yesterday because the entire day was packed with too many other compelling things to do! For instance: 1) a really wet shower with hot water; 2) lunch; 3) a three-hour nap; 4) dinner; and 5) watching Sam sleep through two fine movies. These were: White Cargo (1942), a hilariously atrocious misery festival set in 1910 on a sweaty African rubber plantation starring Walter Pidgeon, Richard Carlson and Hedy Lamarr; and Advise & Consent (1962), an Otto Preminger drama/mystery/thriller gem about bullshit in the U.S. Senate starring nearly everybody in Hollywood.

I’m having a perfect Thursday. Homemade soup and a Hayley Mills movie.

Hi, guys. It’s a dark and dismal Thursday afternoon at Howdygram headquarters with no activities of any interest whatsoever except a BIG FAT POT OF HOMEMADE SOUP. Today I made Easy Beef Leftover Thanksgiving Turkey Vegetable Soup for Senior Citizens, and I’m pleased to report there’s enough for a guest if you’d like to drop in for a few minutes with your own spoon. SOUP IS THE BEST FOOD ON EARTH not counting Russell Stover sugar-free marshmallow Santas and once in a while braunschweiger.

Our latest Putz of the Week is a right-wing Texas legislator who wants to invalidate federal laws.

It’s 1 a.m. on Wednesday morning and Sam is in bed. I’d be in bed, too, except I spent all day Tuesday unconscious in the family room. This was thoroughly pleasant but seriously unproductive, although I did spring back to life in time for dinner and a creepy old movie on DVD. We watched The Old Dark House (1932) starring Boris Karloff, Melvyn Douglas, Gloria Stuart, Raymond Massey and Charles Laughton, a weird and scary atmospheric thing directed by James Whale, who did the original Frankenstein (1931) and The Invisible Man (1933).

Glorioski and holy crap, people! Marcy bought a printer!

Hot on the heels of The Pointless Shitty Envelope Adventure of 2014 [see post] I decided a couple of hours ago to request a divorce from my four-year-old pain-in-the-ass Epson WorkForce 635 printer for failure to perform at any level whatosever. The nice white A7-size envelopes I ordered from Amazon — to replace the grainy “grocery bag” envelopes that jammed nonstop on Sunday — arrived this afternoon, and they won’t feed into this damn thing, either. Plus the entire printhead is out of alignment now and everything that actually prints is TOTALLY COCKEYED. So ... I paid a quick visit to Amazon, read a few thousand customer reviews and ordered myself a brand new Epson WorkForce 3640. GLORIOSKI AND HOLY CRAP, PEOPLE! MARCY BOUGHT A PRINTER!

Errands, seasonal appetizers and two fine actors doing comedy.

You know what sucks? When it’s 4:30 in the morning and you can’t fall asleep even though you’re so tired you can’t keep your eyes open. Like RIGHT NOW, for instance. I’m not sure why this is happening for the third night in a row, but I might decide to haul my body to the chaise in the family room any minute now because I always sleep like a rock on the chaise. (If I stop typing all of a sudden you’ll know why.) In the meantime I’ve been Googling friends from the past to amuse myself, with the unfortunate outcome that several of them are DEAD. Holy crap, right?