Welcome to Friday night in Howdygramland. There’s not much to report at this hour except that I’m slightly hungry, very cold and severely despondent that Bazooka bubble gum has decided to ditch its 60-year-old comic strip inner wrap for something “more relevant” to today’s kids. (Maybe a free condom or extra rollover minutes?) First Twinkies disappear, and now this!
For the record, Bazooka bubble gum was an important part of my childhood and, in large part, made me what I am today: a toothless diabetic.
For news a little closer to home, I’d like to announce that Dallas is really, really weird. Apparently city planners are busy preparing for next November’s BIG EVENT, to be known henceforth as “The 50th.” At a media hoo-hah last week Mayor Mike Rawlings said, “The name is simply The 50th.”
In case you haven’t figured out what The 50th is, it’s the fiftieth anniversary of John F. Kennedy’s assassination. Which is a lot like calling Thanksgiving “The Thursday.”
Mayor Rawlings offered the following remarks: “The entire country and world will be looking on Dallas this time next year, November 22, 2013, 50 years later. First let me discuss what we are going to accomplish with this event. This is an event to honor the remarkable life, legacy and leadership of President John F. Kennedy. Solely that, and nothing more. Secondly, the tone is very important. We want to mark this day remembering a great president with a sense of dignity and honor.”
HOLY CRAP.
Seriously, I hate to break these bad tidings to the mayor, but Dallas will NEVER be remembered for John Kennedy’s life because John Kennedy never lived here. He had no relatives here, he wasn’t educated here, he never held office here and he never had any “dignity and honor” here. HE WAS KILLED HERE. The world remembers Jackie’s pink suit, Lee Harvey Oswald, Jack Ruby, the grassy knoll, the damn School Book Depository and Parkland Memorial Hospital. By refusing to acknowledge the obvious — the assassination — the mayor is setting us up to look like a bunch of delusional yahoos. Which really isn’t much of a stretch, since we’ll probably all show up at The 50th with a six-pack, a hound dog and a Stetson.
I think I’d better grab myself a nice hot shower before I freeze to death and some dinner before I starve to death. I apologize if this sounds too theatrical, but it’s my blog and I’ll write whatever the hell I want.
Every now and then I get sick of self-employment, and today is one of those days. I’ve got six Ovation Creative clients with automatic web hosting payments due at the end of every month, and this afternoon credit cards were declined for three of them. Deadbeats! The cat-and-mouse game is underway now, involving a cheerful first email to let them know their cards have been declined followed by an appropriate number of semi-snotty “why in hell haven’t I heard from you” reminders until I finally get a response. If, God forbid, there’s no timely response whatsoever, the final semi-snotty email is capped by a full-bore threat to take their website offline and sell their cursed domain to the highest bidder.
I’ve only been forced into annihilation mode three times in recent memory. Trust me, it’s not a pretty sight.
And now for something completely different. I received my new Perfect Tortilla Pan Set today from Bed Bath and Beyond! In a brilliant feat of advance planning I sent Sam to Tom Thumb this morning for some essential ingredients — a bag of nice shredded iceberg lettuce and an extra jar of salsa — so we can eat big crunchy bowls of taco crap this weekend. I’ll try to take pictures but I’m not promising anything.
From our Happy Holidays department, in case there’s a hard-to-buy-for fashion-conscious dude on your Hanukkah gift list the Howdygram would like to suggest a classy outfit from Yoko Ono’s new menswear collection. Ono (inset, below), 79, says her looks are “inspired by John Lennon” and include pants with giant handprints on the crotch, a transparent plastic chest plaque with doorbells, tanks with nipple cutouts and a flashing LED stretch bra. It is important to note that John Lennon is dead.
Think you can you stand another stab at Mitt Romney? The Onion posted this photo a couple of days ago showing a grubby, disheveled Romney in his new post as assistant produce manager at Safeway. Frankly, to me it looks like he’s ready to launch into a chorus of “The Impossible Dream.” You know, like Robert Goulet. I’m just saying.
I should probably mention here that absolutelyeverything you see on The Onion’s website is satire because everybody knows Mitt Romney would never in a million years be an assistant produce manager at Safeway. He actually supervises the deli.
This has been another incredible day at Howdygram headquarters ... two in a row! First, I had leftover spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner again tonight, and second, I received another order from Netrition this afternoon with a couple of products I’m trying for the very first time. They are: 1) a zero-carb meat loaf mix that you moosh into ground beef in lieu of bread crumbs; and 2) low-carb instant tapioca pudding. Tapioca pudding, people! TAPIOCA PUDDING! I’m so excited I could scream! Instead I’ll just post the following brilliant photos of famous people with teeny faces. (Yes, these were Photoshopped. No, I don’t know who did it.) I think Teeny Obama is my favorite.
And now, like it or not, it’s my plan to devote an entire paragraph of this post to the glories of FREEZE-DRIED GROUND BEEF, which is easily the most amazing invention ever with the possible exception of space travel, penicillin and corn pads. I buy the gallon-size can of Thrive freeze-dried ground beef from Shelf Reliance, as pictured below.
These are very nice big crumbles of fully-cooked REAL GROUND BEEF. You only rehydrate exactly as much as you need — as opposed to defrosting your beef by the pound — in about three minutes, after which you can fling it into sauce, soup, casseroles, tacos or birthday cake! (Just kidding about the birthday cake.) Please try this product. Thank you.
In case you missed this in the news, apparently the online version of China’s Communist Party newspaper reprinted a story yesterday from The Onion naming North Korea’s dictator Kim Jong Un as the “Sexiest Man Alive” ... not realizing that it’s satire. On Tuesday The People’s Daily ran a 55-page photo spread on its website with the headline “North Korea’s top leader named The Onion’s Sexiest Man Alive for 2012.” Oy, those wacky Chinese. Won’t they ever learn?
Quoting The Onion’s spoof, the Chinese newspaper wrote: “With his devastatingly handsome round face, his boyish charm, and his strong, sturdy frame, this Pyongyang-bred heart-throb is every woman’s dream come true. Blessed with an air of power that masks an unmistakable cute, cuddly side, Kim made this newspaper’s editorial board swoon with his impeccable fashion sense, chic short hairstyle, and, of course, that famous smile.” HOLY CRAP.
And now, just for fun, it’s time to fill up my pill sorter for the coming week and inject some insulin. I should mention here that I take Atorvastatin, the Lipitor generic manufactured by Ranbaxy Pharmaceuticals that’s being recalled for containing SPECKS OF GLASS. I was further disturbed that the FDA is not instructing patients to return the drug or stop taking it, so I called Wal-Mart when I first read about this and the pharmacist insisted the contaminated pills didn’t affect Wal-Mart stores. Yeah, right.
The Powerball lottery jackpot tonight is half a billion dollars. Half a billion! When you buy your ticket shout “Howdygram!” for good luck, and if you win please send me half. Thank you for reading this.
Even though the weather this afternoon is borderline dismal, you’ll be pleased to know that I’m having a thoroughly excellent day here at Howdygram headquarters for all of the following reasons:
I don’t have to go outside.
I might make spaghetti and meat sauce for dinner tonight.
My knees stopped hurting.
The laundry is caught up except for bath towels.
I got a shipment yesterday from Netrition.com and their low-carb milk chocolate bars taste EXACTLY like cheap Brach’s Easter bunnies from Walgreen’s. This is so perfect I think my head might explode.
I found the following Photoshopped picture of Humphrey Bogart online this morning. Holy crap, I love Google!
There’s some breaking news today from the ongoing David Petraeus scandal. Apparently the government of South Korea has decided to reclaim the “honorary consul” title it bestowed on broke and desperate Tampa party-girl Jill Kelley after they discovered she was using it to peddle influence, such as pressuring New York businessman Adam Victor into a business deal in exchange for an outrageous $85 million commission. Kelley is pictured below, peddling her breasts to Florida Senator Marco Rubio.
For the record, Marco Rubio is another one of those Republicans who believes the earth is only 6,000 years old. According to his official biography, he’s a recent Phi Beta Kappa graduate of the Religious Insanity program at Rick Santorum’s Bullshit University.
Speaking of Republicans and bullshit, my final story of the day comes from GQ Magazine, where they’ve named Mitt Romney one of the “least influential people of 2012” despite 18 months on the national stage and a multi-million dollar campaign running for president of the United States. GQ writes: “Was anyone inspired by Mitt Romney? Did anyone vote enthusiastically for Mitt Romney? Of course not. Voting for Romney is like hooking up with the last single person at the bar at 4 a.m.”
Romney’s GQ list-mates include greasy Food Network personality Guy Fieri, PBS newsman Jim Lehrer, Madonna, Olympic swimmer Ryan Lochte and — believe it or not! — Michelle Obama. In case you’re wondering why GQ included the first lady, they say in spite of Michelle’s “Let’s Move” campaign everybody in the United States is still too damn fat.
I absolutely agree. Now shut up and pass the chips.
Yes, I know the campaign is over. Yes, I know I can finallystop wringing my hands about politics for at least another two years. But even so, it is with great pleasure that I’d like to present the following photograph of former GOP presidential candidate Mitt Romney, dressed in casual attire for weekend fun with Ann and the 1%.
From our What Happened To The Help department, here’s a photo of Mitt and Ann taken on Thanksgiving, clammy and clingy in the kitchen of one of their homes, pretending to cook a meal. FYI, I don’t like their cabinets and there’s too much crap on the counter behind them. I’m just saying.
It’s 4:15 Monday morning. You know you’re in big trouble when you wake up at this hour with SEVERE KNEE PAIN, because I always assumed that lying down should feel better than walking. But wait ... there’s more! I also have a stinging pain in my right hand, which has been frozen in the form of a claw since the day before Thanksgiving. I can’t close a fist and I can’t straighten out my fingers. (It feels like I caught a baseball bare-handed and broke all my bones.) For what it’s worth, the knee pain thing is arthritis and the crumpled hand thing is diabetic neuropathy. Nothing makes me feel better except Chinese food and Wal-Mart’s excellent store-brand arthritis strength Tylenol knockoff. The kind with the yellow label.
I got bored halfway into the New York Giants/Green Bay Packers game last night and decided to switch to some real entertainment: “Liz & Dick” on Lifetime starring Lindsay Lohan, that hyped-up biopic about Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. In a word, I thought everything about this low-budget made-for-TV movie — the script, the dialog, the sets, the performances — were ABSOLUTELY CHEESY (okay, fine, that’s two words) and Lohan didn’t look, act or sound like Elizabeth Taylor in any way whatsoever. Even her makeup sucked. Other than that, however, the movie wasn’t bad at all.
So here’s what’s happening on Monday at Howdygram headquarters: 1) Sam is getting a haircut at 9 a.m.; 2) I want homemade tacos for lunch; and 3) I’m expecting a nice UPS delivery from Netrition.com. To brace myself for the excitement I’d better go back to bed for a while because it’s nearly 6 a.m. and I’ve only had three hours of sleep. If I’m not careful I’ll look like a raccoon.
It wasn’t really my plan to not write a Howdygram post on Saturday. I wanted to. Seriously, I did. But Saturday turned out to be “creaky” for me, arthritically-speaking, and apparently I wasted far too much time whining, taking pain medication and not moving around whenever the opportunity presented itself. It’s only six minutes past midnight and I’m already hoping today will be better. Thank you for hoping with me.
By now I’m sure everybody knows that J.R. Ewing died again. This time, though, it was actually Larry Hagman, 81, who passed away on Friday here in Texas while filming season two of the resurrected “Dallas.” Hagman is shown below posing in front of Southfork Ranch, which is actually a semi-cheesy event center now for weddings and bar mitzvahs.
I was a huge fan of the original “Dallas” series (1978 to 1991) and got hooked on the reboot when it debuted this past June. Sam doesn’t quite get it, but I think there’s something gratifying about watching miserable, dysfunctional rich people betray their best friends, cheat their business partners and destroy their relatives. It makes me feel so much better about my stiff knees.
As far as I can tell Sam and I have no plans for Sunday whatsoever, although there are a couple of good NFL games we can watch, I’ve got Ben-Hur on the DVR and I’m considering a nice pot of chicken barley soup. Visitors are welcome if you’d like to join us. Please send an email at your earliest convenience to reserve space on the sofa.
Bad news. Howdygram headquarters has run out of Thanksgiving leftovers. Sam finished the last of it Friday night after work, and I’m so depressed I might have to order another boneless turkey roast from Boston Market. In case you’ve never had one, this thing is FABULOUS. You get a three-pound chunk of solid white meat in its own roasting bag and pan that you pop into a 350° oven for 90 minutes. EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK CAN BE THANKSGIVING!
I think I should wake Sam so we can go to bed. He’s been unconscious in the family room since 8:30 last night and just slept through The Horse Whisperer (three hours) starring Robert Redford. Sam sleeps through the some of the finest movies ever made.
It’s Black Friday, and so I wouldn’t feel deprived on retail’s holy of holies I ordered myself a set of Perfect Tortilla Pans (see below) from Bed Bath and Beyond, after which I ate a cute little lunch, almost took a nap and finished up some new features for the Howdygram. At the moment I’m waiting for Sam to get home from work but don’t actually expect him until after 6 because he promised to stop at Lowe’s to buy repair parts for my favorite toilet. Don’t ask.
With my new Perfect Tortilla Pans I’ll be able to take healthy low-carb tortillas and bake them into bowls! LIKE MAGIC! I’m not exactly sure what I’ll do with them, but the possibilities are only limited by my imagination. I could make gigantic tacos, create party hats or even use one as an edible storage container for car keys. Holy crap! Stay tuned!
Regarding the new features for the Howdygram, be sure to check out the links at the top of the right column ... especially Shop For My Favorite Crapola. I spent several days working on this page so please show appropriate appreciation. Thank you.
And finally, I downloaded another boatload of (mostly) free fonts this week and thought I’d share them now for your possible interest. I bought Skindeep and Rivenshield from Blambot.com because they’re having a 50% off sale and I can’t pass up a bargain.
I think I’m a little too tired to write an actual Howdygram post at this hour so I thought I’d just share the following TV ads from past decades for seriously insane kids’ toys.
After watching all four videos my official stupidity ranking is as follows: 1) the frightening Swing Wing that was probably pulled off the market for causing seizures and/or dislocated vertebrae; 2) disgusting Magic Potty Baby who pees yellow liquid into a fake toilet; 3) Love and Licks Puppy that drools on your children; and 4) what the hell is a Belly Bongo?
I’d better go to bed. I’m tired, I’m cold and there’s nothing left to eat. Thank you for reading this.
Good morning. I decided to start my day at the crack of dawn because I can’t sleep. As long as I’m here I suppose I’ll post this year’s Thanksgiving greeting in case you’re an insomniac, too. At the moment I wish I had a coffee cake.
I’m sure I’ll be back later with another post so please feel free to drop in again. Thank you.
It’s the day before Thanksgiving and I’ve got nothing to do. We weren’t invited anywhere for dinner tomorrow and don’t expect company here at Howdygram headquarters, so once again this year Sam and I will pick up the nice little boneless turkey breast we reserved at Boston Market and heat it in the oven when we finish our afternoon naps. I’ll make the essential homemade “sides” all by myself, which will consist of: 1) a box of Stovetop turkey stuffing; 2) a jar of generic turkey gravy with a few freeze-dried mushrooms mixed in; 3) a can of Ocean Spray cranberry sauce; 4) freeze-dried green beans with fake butter; and 5) half a leftover pumpkin pie.
Incidentally, items 3 and 5 are for Sam and item 4 is for me. I also plan to enjoy items 1 and 2 following a substantial injection of mealtime insulin. If that’s too much information for you, please make an effort to get over it.
My creative project du jour involves a new feature for the Howdygram so you can buy all the outstanding crapola that I write about. Think of it as a comprehensive shopping page with photos, intelligently-composed product descriptions and direct links to the relevant websites. I’ve been working on the format since 4:45 this morning, taking breaks only when absolutely necessary. I’m positive you’ll thank me for this eventually.
Before I forget, the Howdygram would like to extend a belated happy birthday wish to Vice President Joe Biden, who turned 70 on November 20. I’ve been a Joe Biden fan for nearly 40 years (oy) and thought you might enjoy the following photos. I don’t know how he does it, but Joe looks better today than he did in 1972! Holy crap, people!
And now it’s time to concentrate on dinner. Just for one, as usual, because Sam doesn’t get home from work until 11 p.m. At the moment I’m considering a can of Loma Linda Swiss Stake because it’s fast (i.e., ready-to-eat), there’s a ton of gravy and it’s my all-time favorite fake meat. You eventually get used to the fact that it looks like Alpo.
I’m pleased to report that I’ve had a full day of multiple accomplishments, including: 1) rinsing a couple of dishes; 2) unpacking our new comforter, steaming out the wrinkles and making the bed; 3) admiring item 2 from various angles; 4) folding a lot of Sam’s underwear; 5) updating a client’s website; and 6) I think that’s it. I briefly considered an afternoon nap but time got away from me. I watched “People’s Court” instead.
And now for the exciting conclusion to Sam & Marcy’s big Saturday adventure! Pretty much as we expected, everything about Five Star Vacations, their outrageous travel club membership and their free thank you gift turned out to be a stinking pile of poo. Sam called the company’s travel center this morning to arrange for our two free round-trip airline ticket vouchers and instead listened to a memorized script explaining a long list of additional fees, taxes, exceptions and restrictions that, unfortunately, “somebody should have mentioned to you at the time you booked your 90-minute presentation.” The vouchers, in essence, don’t exist. Seriously pissed off, Sam threatened to call the FBI, the ASPCA, the SEC, the IRS, the GOP, the FHA, the AMA, the CIA, NASA, the Better Business Bureau, Consumer Reports, Domino’s Pizza and his mother. I’ll do my part by posting a snotty review on the Internet. Maybe two.
A couple of breaking news stories! First, in case you haven’t noticed, Twinkies got more headlines today on CNN.com and NBCNews.com than General Petraeus. God bless America! Second, our neighbors across the street already turned on their Christmas lights, including a stupid inflatable Santa that falls over every night by 9 p.m. (I think Santa gets drunk.)
Last Monday we received a postcard offering two free round-trip airline tickets to anywhere in the United States if we’ll sit through a 90-minute “travel presentation.” That’s not such a bad deal, right? Sam and I sit through 90 minutes of horseshit all the time, such as a crappy horror movie like 20 Million Miles to Earth, so why not waste an hour and a half to get free airfare? Sam called to find out more and then set us up to attend a presentation yesterday at noon hosted by Five Star Vacations in Dallas. There were six couples, all ordinary and middle-aged, and a handful of peculiar yet eager sales Einsteins (ours was a twentysomething named Samantha in shorts and stilettos) trying their damndest to sell $8,995 travel club memberships that offer “exclusive” opportunities to buy discounted trips to places we’d never visit in a million years. Following a slide show — complete with agonizing typos — during which we were promised we could just say “no” at any time if we weren’t interested, Samantha continued to push Disney World, desert golf resorts and beach vacations in Fiji even though we told her repeatedly I can’t fly, we don’t have grandchildren and nobody likes golf. At that point she sent her manager to give it his best shot, but that didn’t work out very well, either. We even told him our dream vacation is a road trip to Arkansas with breakfast at Denny’s. (Which happens to be true, coincidentally.)
We left at 1 p.m. with a bogus-looking brochure and a $50 hotel gift card; on Monday we’ll call an 800 number to get our airline ticket vouchers. Whether or not any of this crap is legitimate still remains to be seen, so don’t forget to come back tomorrow for the thrilling final chapter. And now a word from our sponsor!
The primary activity on today’s agenda here at Howdygram headquarters is LAUNDRY. I’ve got mountains of it, leading me to conclude that we’re either exceptionally clean or exceptionally dirty. I’m leaning towards the former. We change clothes a lot and Sam is admittedly addicted to fresh socks.
I’ll try to write another post later between loads, okay? Thank you for reading this.
I think something’s wrong with me: it’s after 7 p.m. and I’M NOT HUNGRY. This is definitely an odd twist of events for a foodie like yours truly, especially since I’ve got a kitchen filled with all kinds of amazing crap to eat — teeny cans of Chinese gluten, Lowrey’s hot & spicy bacon curls, frozen whatnots from Schwan’s — not to mention China City’s convenient online order form bookmarked on Firefox. I mean, I’m all set here as soon as I decide I need to eat something, except at the moment I don’t really need to eat. Which is the EXACT OPPOSITE of Sam last night when he got home from work. He was, in a word, starving, so I made him a picture-perfect three-egg omelet with mushrooms, melty pepper jack cheese and a side order of sausages, which he washed down with — ready for this? — A WHOLE PUMPKIN PIE WITH A CAN OF WHIPPED CREAM. The whole damn pie, all at once.I never enjoyed anything so much in my entire life. It was almost as good as watching The Wizard of Oz.
I’m having an issue with FedEx. They ship everything you buy online from Wal-Mart.com, but for some peculiar reason only a teeny part of my last order, which included multiple bottles of body wash, deodorant, toothpaste, glucose tablets and flavor extracts, requires a signature on delivery. WTF? I’ve never had to sign for a Wal-Mart delivery in my entire life. I received a big box yesterday with my entire order minus the two little bottles of McCormick extract, which apparently are being held hostage by a terrorist Federal Express driver I’ll refer to as Bubba Einstein. According to online tracking Bubba has attempted to deliver this stupid crap THREE TIMES but apparently never bothered to tape a note to the door to let me know I had to sign for something. I think we should kill him. Either that, or I’ll start buying extracts in our local Wal-Mart Neighborhood Market.
Sam and I are having a big adventure tomorrow. Stay tuned for all the details, okay? Thank you for reading this.
A new day dawns in Diabetesland, where my complaints du jour include lightheadedness, loss of balance and shortness of breath. All are different manifestations of diabetic neuropathy, causing me to bump into walls, act like a crab and spill Coke Zero all over the coffee table. WITH ICE CUBES. As soon as I finish this post I think I’ll put my feet up for a while and watch a movie. I’m definitely not much good for anything else right now.
Remember the piece of pizza I had for lunch yesterday? Although over the years I’ve been known to eat practically anything, the pie in question was a greasy, unpalatable “Margherita-style” thing from Sal’s in Dallas with dough like a steel-belted radial and big clumps of fresh basil. It’s actually the basil that wrecked it for me. Basil tastes like licorice AND LICORICE TASTES LIKE CRAP! I got so hysterical I had to resort to drastic action. I threw the entire pizza in the garbage, ate a low-carb chocolate bar and watched Please Don’t Eat the Daisies starring Doris Day.
Concerning that image of Mitt Romney in yesterday’s Howdygram post, the one labeled “Winner, 2012 Thurston Howell Award” ... just in case the name doesn’t ring a bell, Thurston Howell was the pompous millionaire on “Gilligan’s Island” who embarked on that infamous three-hour tour with a year’s supply of formalwear, satin smoking jackets and a suitcase stuffed with cash.
I’m pleased to announce there are FOUR THRILLING THINGS happening today, right here at Howdygram headquarters!
Sam brought leftover pizza home from work last night and I’m definitely eating a piece for lunch.
FedEx is delivering my new comforter from Wal-Mart (see earlier post).
I might go for a haircut.
I can’t think of anything else.
Obviously I’m most excited about items 1 and 2 but for very different reasons. Item 1 involves food and item 2 involves no food whatsoever, but in all other respects the overall level of thrill is essentially the same. Item 3 is still a “maybe” at this point and depends on whether or not I feel motivated enough to wear a brassiere and start the car. (Fat chance, right?) Item 4 is both meaningless and self-explanatory.
From our Republican Follies department comes even more Mitt Romney comedy! The GOP’s premier gaffe-master has been blabbing all over town to former supporters and campaign donors that President Obama only won the election because he bought votes by being “very generous” to African Americans and offering huge “gifts” to the rest of the greedy, government-dependent populace that excludes old rich white men. Romney refers to: 1) reduced student loan interest; 2) free contraceptives under Obamacare; 3) improved health insurance coverage for families, children and patients with pre-existing conditions; and 4) comprehensive immigration reform through the Dream Act. Romney is once again under fire for being a heartless Mormon moron ... this time even by Republicans.
For the record, Mitt doesn’t bother to mention his own vow to provide a gift to the wealthiest Americans (also known in Romneyland as “patriots” and “job creators”) disguised as additional tax breaks. Congratulations on your stunning and gratifying loss, Mr. White Bread Jerkowitz!
Holy crap, it’s time to nuke a piece of pizza! Thank you for reading this.
All’s not well at Howdygram headquarters tonight and I didn’t really plan to write a post. I’ve had a lousy headache since early afternoon and so far the usual remedies haven’t helped, including arthritis-strength acetaminophen, looking at pizza porn online, two short naps and pudding. All that’s left in my arsenal now is a hot shower or blowing my brains out. In the meantime, a fine example of pizza porn appears below for your possible interest. This is a 10-pound deep-dish marvel from Lou Malnati’s in suburban Chicago, and it’s even better than the iconic pizza at Gino’s East. (In certain circles I could be assassinated for that comment, but what the hell.) Please see the teeny photo of Malnati’s original location in Lincolnwood (inset).
This was my #1 favorite restaurant when I lived in Chicago. If Lou Malnati’s ever decides to open in Texas I’d probably have to move next door.
Time for that hot shower now. It was nice of you to drop in tonight.
The Adventures of General Petraeus have risen to a new level of hysteria, now focusing on professional partier Jill Kelley’s twin Natalie Khawam, who’s a bankrupt Florida lawyer and social-climbing sex maniac — technically, I think Gawker.com used the term “flirt” — and a regular fixture on the diplomatic party circuit. Since I don’t want to waste any additional Howdygram space tonight rehashing the juicy details, I’ll just post a convenient flowchart to help you figure out who’s who. Enjoy.
It’s past midnight and I haven’t heard a peep from Sam since he left for work at 2:15 yesterday afternoon. I can only assume he’s having a seriously lousy time at the office or else he’d find five minutes to call and say hi. Those clients from yesterday are still in-house and will probably stay all night again. If they do, Sam will, too, although I’m positive he’d rather be home eating a muffin. As for me, I plan to hit the sack as soon as I finish this post. Please shut the light when you’re done and try not to make any noise, okay?
One more thing. An article on the Huffington Post’s website tonight referred me to an online petition where we can all support an effort urging Macy’s to end its affiliation with pukey Donald Trump, the self-absorbed, anti-American hate-monger, pictured below, who continues to race-bait the president of the United States.
Apparently Macy’s sells Donald Trump’s clothing line and fragrance — who the hell wants to smell like Donald Trump? — and uses his likeness in ads celebrating “the magic of Macy’s.” Holy crap, people! Grab this chance to tell Macy’s what you think! Click here to sign the petition!
I just ran out of exclamation points. Thank you for reading this.
Okay, I think I got confused last night. This convoluted General Petraeus scandal is draining my neurons. In another twist to the same story, apparently those “30,000 pages of email” were transmitted between Marine Corps General John Allen — Commander of U.S. and NATO troops in Afghanistan — and Jill Kelley, a married millionaire social climber in Tampa who blows her husband’s money hosting black-tie shindigs for military brass at MacDill Air Force Base. The Wall Street Journal reports that when Kelley began receiving anonymous meanacing emails earlier this year she contacted a pal in the FBI who linked the emails to General Petraeus’ jealous girlfriend and biographer, Paula Broadwell. Just for fun the aforementioned FBI agent emailed Jill Kelley photos of himself shirtless.
Holy crap. Would this be an amazing HBO mini-series, or what? Even though this story has started to give me cramps, the cast of characters appears below for your possible interest. Apparently Jill Kelley and her twin (see bottom photo) both suffer from the same serious neck injury.
It’s definitely fall in north Texas and we had our first official freeze this morning. Even though I don’t go out very often — just on weekends for Chinese food or Senior Scrambled Eggs at Denny’s — I still manage to keep track of the changing seasons because: 1) I visit Weather.com at least once a week; 2) Costco is already advertising their Christmas specials; and 3) my feet are cold. Although a nice pair of socks would have been cheaper, to alleviate item 3 I just ordered a comforter set from Wal-Mart. Stop laughing, people. Wal-Mart’s Hometrends brand bedding is BEAUTIFUL and their king-size comforters are larger than practically anybody’s, including the ritzy and overpriced designer crap at Bed Bath and Beyond.
The set comes with two king pillow shams and a bed skirt. I didn’t have to buy the matching throw pillows because they’re already on a shelf in my armoire. No kidding.
I usually don’t gloat (not much, anyway) but thought you might enjoy some real-time misery on DisappearingRomney.com, a website that’s tracking Mitt Romney’s diminishing Facebook popularity as it actually happens. Now in frightening decline, Mitt has been losing approximately 847 friends every hour.
And on that cheerful note I think I’ll go make a nice pot of chicken barley soup. Thank you for reading this!
I was ready to go to bed about half an hour ago but decided to squeeze in one more quick Howdygram post. Mostly I feel compelled to announce that I’m officially fed up with General Petraeus, General Petraeus’ name, General Petraeus’ chicks and bimbos, General Petraeus’ sneaky little trysts, General Petraeus’ lousy judgment and all of the accompanying General Petraeus horseshit that’s been leaking into the headlines on an hourly basis. I am particularly fascinated by mistress number one, Paula Broadwell, sending 30,000 pages of “menacing email” to mistress number two, a person named Jill Kelley, who wears a lot of makeup and looks like she probably deserved it.
Come on. THIRTY THOUSAND PAGES OF EMAIL? Who the hell has time to write that much email? Somebody should give these women a REAL job!
I forgot to include a graphic in my previous post that goes along with the Texas secession paragraph. Here’s a Texan’s map of the United States, offering a reasonably accurate representation of how important we think we are.
Thank you for reading this. I have to get some sleep now.
So here’s the story tonight from Howdygram headquarters. Sam called about an hour ago to let me know he’ll be stuck at the office until 4 a.m. Tuesday morning because a group of clients are in-house to work on a steaming pile of urgent crapola and intend to stay for 48 hours without clean socks or taking a shower. I’m not joking. Nobody would ever joke about something like this. On the plus side, though, Sam said he ordered dinner from Pei Wei, and everybody knows that Chinese food is always the answer.
I wonder if he had the pad thai. That’s his favorite.
From our Tacky Snacks Department comes this heartbreaking news from Sacramento, California, where bankrupt Hostess Brands, Inc., manufacturer of acrylic Twinkies, foam rubber cupcakes and other iconic treats, has been crippled by a labor strike over the company’s proposed 8% wage cut, a 32% reduction in health benefits and increased work hours. While the Bakery, Confectionery, Tobacco Workers and Grain Millers International Union is having a cow, Hostess CEO Grey Rayburn promises the strike ultimately will force the company to close its doors. Bottom line: BETTER BUY YOUR TWINKIES BEFORE FRIDAY. Thank you.
A little closer to home, in response to President Obama’s re-election it seems that 25,000 local yahoos have signed a petition demanding that Texas secede from the United States, triggering a hilarious blog post on the Dallas Observer’s website asking to clarify the basic logistics of secession in case a few of us would rather not live in a nation run by the holy gunslinger, Governor Rick “Einstein” Perry, pictured below. I added a few questions of my own to the Dallas Observer’s list. Enjoy.
Will I need a passport to get into America?
Will we get our own paper currency with Rick Perry holding a uterus on it?
Can my child carry a gun to preschool?
Is not wearing the mandatory Texas flag shirt punishable by death, or just life in prison?
Is it going to cost 25,000 frequent flier miles to get to Albuquerque now?
What will we bomb next once we’re done with all the Planned Parentoods?
Can I drink in church?
Will there be legitimate rape?
When I retire, how much should I count on getting from Texas in Social Security? If not much, can I self-deport to America?
Will I die at the Alamo? What if I don’t want to die at the Alamo? Can I self-deport to America?
Will state troopers wear coonskin caps? Can I self-deport to America?
If Texas is its own country, will I have to learn the language?
Can I shoot my neighbors?
Will the Texas Bill of Rights include Viagra?
Will there be chicken-fried pasta?
I’ll still get cable, right? If not, can this wait until the next season of “Mad Men” is over?
Will I have to purchase my own transvaginal probe wand, or will one be provided for me at reduced cost?
Is Chuck Norris the Vice President or the Secretary of Defense?
Can we force the IRS to give Willie Nelson his money back?
We’ll have excessive banjos in the national anthem, right?
If I duck-tape a truck bed to the back, can I keep my Prius?
Will we still have to pick up our dog’s poop or can we just shoot it for target practice?
Can we bring back mailmen on horseback? That was cool.
Will we be able to import Coors Light?
To amuse myself tonight in Sam’s absence I decided to engage in my two favorite hobbies: 1) eating things; and 2) buying things. So far item 1 has included Coke Zero, a teeny bowl of hummus and some Lowrey’s hot & spicy bacon curls. Item 2, accomplished at Wal-Mart.com, involves the excellent merchandise illustrated below, purchased mostly in multiples (i.e., four toothpastes, two deodorants, etc.) to qualify for free shipping.
I also placed a small order with Amazon because I didn’t want them to feel neglected. The 24-oz. jar of McCormick’s Taco Seasoning is the same powdery crap they also sell in packets except the jar is a lot cheaper. (I use it for homemade dip. I love dip.) The pan is nonstick lasagna-size by Wilton that measures 14½" x 11" and I’ll use it for little chickens. I don’t make lasagna because I have diabetes. Please send an email if you feel sorry for me.
I think I’d better eat some real food before my blood sugar gets too low. Hummus and bacon curls don’t exactly qualify. I’m considering a grilled cheese on low-carb wheat bread and sugar-free Vlasic bread & butter pickles with a Walter Pidgeon movie on the side. Thank you for reading this.
After waiting nearly all day for the wrath of Brutus, the season’s second named winter storm arrived at Howdygram headquarters like a pansy this afternoon, dumping about six minutes of light drizzle with no wind, no thunder, no lightning, NO NOTHING. What a total waste of time — again! — for paying any attention whatsoever to those overpaid, lying sacks of poo at Weather.com. I am so done with them.
And now I’d like to revisit a comment from my post on November 8 in which I suggested we should all demand that NBC cancel “Celebrity Apprentice” and end Donald Trump’s contract due to his racist, seditious and hateful anti-American Twitter tirade following President Obama’s re-election. I’M SERIOUS ABOUT THIS, PEOPLE. I emailed NBC’s corporate office twice and I think all of you should do exactly the same. In the news today I saw a story that Coldstone Creamery fired 22-year-old Denise Helms, an idiot ice cream store manager in Modesto, California, for her anti-Obama Election Day rant on Facebook, in which she referred to the president of the United States with the “N” word and the hope that he’ll be assassinated. (Unemployment is the least of Miss Einstein’s problems now; she’s also in deep crap with the FBI and Secret Service.)
The point is, if Coldstone Creamery can take a stand against an employee’s hate and racism, I think NBC should, too.Therefore I’m pleased to provide the email link below to NBC’s corporate office. Please ask NBC to dump Trump and recommend that your friends do the same!
I have a headache. Maybe this would be a good time to reheat some matzo ball soup, watch The Thin Man and connect with Sam, who just slept through the entire Cowboys vs. Eagles game on Fox. Have a nice evening, okay?
I’ve been lucky so far. All of my hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) episodes always seem to occur when I’m home, where I have fast access to glucose tablets and/or Sam, who volunteers to race around the house scrounging up emergency provisions for me, such as raisins, half a Clif bar or leftover Mongolian chicken. This morning, however, I decided not to annoy him because he’s still sound asleep, so I’ll just sit my desk with those tasty glucose thingies. In case you’re wondering, they’re exactly like SweeTarts except a lot bigger with much better flavors and not as tart.
Okay, maybe not.
Remember winter storm Brutus? HE’S LATE. He was supposed to roll into Dallas at 6 a.m. (see previous post) except I just noticed on Weather.com that he’s stuck in traffic (albeit atmospheric) somewhere over Lubbock and won’t show up here at Howdygram headquarters until 10 a.m. This makes no difference to me whatsoever, since our only real plans for today include leftover matzo ball soup and a Clint Eastwood western.
All of a sudden I’m STARVING. Since this is most likely related to my hypoglycemic hoo-hah from half an hour ago I might have to go nuke something in the kitchen. I’m considering a mock Egg McMuffin from Schwan’s because they’re ready in 2½ minutes.
Please note ... in all future Howdygram posts going forward this breakfast product will be referred to as a Schwan’s Egg Mock-Muffin. Thank you for reading this.
It’s Sunday, November 11, Barack Obama is still president of the United States, and I’m so damn happy my face hurts. To celebrate I made a large quantity of matzo ball soup for dinner last night that elicited an audible squeal from Sam when I lifted the lid off the pot. For dessert he had a blueberry muffin with an ice cream cone chaser. I just wanted more soup.
In addition to eating things we also squeezed in a pair of classic swashbucklers: Captain Blood (1936) starring Errol Flynn and Olivia de Havilland and Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) starring Clark Gable and Charles Laughton. I fell asleep during the first film, Sam during the second. I think somebody shpritzed our sofa with sedatives.
Winter storm “Brutus” is approaching Howdygram headquarters as I write this post. Brutus has been dumping blizzards and Arctic cold all over the upper plains but isn’t expected to deliver much more than a thunderstorm in north Texas and no big freeze whatsoever. The current ETA is approximately 6 a.m. but I wouldn’t be surprised if Sam and I sleep through it. Lately we sleep through everything.
Just in case you’re interested ... on the map above, Howdygram headquarters is located slightly to the left of the “S” in Shreveport and probably straddles the line between yellow and red. I’ll let you know later today if we get yellow weather or red weather.
HOLY CRAP! IT’S SATURDAY! Now that I’ve got your attention I can move on to other pressing issues, such why am I awake at this hour of the morning and check out all the exciting merchandise I ordered yesterday from my pals at Amazon.
The lens wipes (120 in teeny foil packets) and FreeStyle Lite diabetes test strips should be self-explanatory. One is for cleaning my glasses, the other for testing my blood sugar, respectively. The platter of dried fruit, however, is for eating, albeit not by me. It’s on the way to a nursing home in Chicago for my mother’s 90th birthday party next weekend. Sam and I can’t go so we’re sending prunes and apricots to represent us.
I should mention that I’m definitely sad about missing mom’s event but I try not to think about it too much. Sam can’t take vacation time in November and I can’t travel alone any more due to health reasons. For instance, I’d never get through airport security with my portable pharmacy, syringes and an ice chest full of insulin, and I’m unable to walk 100 yards without sitting down. In addition: 1) I lose my balance; 2) I can’t shlep my own luggage due to nerve damage in my hands; 3) my feet are numb; 4) I have difficulty swallowing when I get excited; and 5) I’m claustrophic on airplanes. All of which make me a model passenger and a flight attendant’s dream.
Sam and I have no concrete plans this weekend, but if I play my cards right I can probably con him into a restaurant meal at some point ... either Thai Star or Pepe’s & Mito’s. I’m hungry enough right now for both except it’s 5:15 in the morning and nothing’s open except McDonald’s and the local doughnut shop. In the meantime I’ve got a lot of TicTacs. (Thank God.)
When I sat down to write tonight’s Howdygram post I had no material whatsoever. Zero. Zilch. I took a short break at 7 p.m. to eat an unassuming bowl of egg salad, and holy crap … all of a sudden I’ve got a million ideas! Who knew? I MADE MAGIC EGG SALAD!
First, allow me to introduce the Meneghini La Cambusa, a jaw-dropping three-door customizable “galley” appliance from Italy. Think of it like installing Costco in your kitchen! Features include a refrigerator, freezer, ice maker, coffee maker, microwave, a steam oven and dry food storage … all for $41,500. To say I want one of these for Hanukkah would be an understatement. (I hope Sam is reading this.)
Before I launch into today’s rant I’d like to post the following video from the movie Meet the People (1944) starring Dick Powell and Lucille Ball, except neither of them is in this clip. It’s a musical number called “I Can’t Dance” featuring a screwball named Ziggy Talent with the Vaughn Monroe Orchestra. (Alert: I promise you’ll need to pee halfway into this routine.)
And now for the topic at hand. REPUBLICANS. I don’t know why anybody still refers to them as a “party,” because they’re the sourest crowd I’ve ever seen in my life.
The after-shock from Tuesday’s election is still causing quite a commotion among right-wing sore loser dirtbags. The biggest sore loser dirtbag is probably Karl Rove, whose pathetic platform led the GOP’s super-PAC straight down the toilet, and an eleventh-hour tantrum on Fox News cost him whatever shred of credibility he had left.
Egomaniac Newt Gingrich didn’t fare too well, either, with his outrageous election night predictions that Romney would win more than 300 electoral votes and Republicans would retake the Senate, all based on his claim to vast political knowledge and experience. Newt, who was nicknamed “The Angry Attack Muffin” by pundit Peggy Noonan, is still camped out in fantasy land.
Neanderthal mysogynist Senators Todd Akin (Missouri) and Richard Mourdock (Indiana) both lost re-election after spewing highly offensive viewpoints about rape and pregnancy. Even in their solidly red states neither could win the votes of women. What a shock, right?
And last but not least is sore loser dirtbag Donald Trump, the Howdygram’s Putz of the Week (twice!), who’s still shrieking that our president is an illegal alien, his re-election was a travesty and democracy is a sham. Personally, I think you should all follow my lead and demand that NBC cancel “Celebrity Apprentice” and remove this anti-American hate monger from television. I’m absolutely serious.
Although the image below never actually appeared on the cover of Bloomberg Business Week, it apparently was proposed artwork for an issue back in January. I’ve decided to post it here for effect, mostly because it fairly represents Romney during the final week of his campaign. He was battered from all directions after vowing to destroy Planned Parenthood, lying about the president shipping Jeep jobs to China and pretending he never ran a full-page New York Times op-ed piece to “let Detroit go bankrupt” in advance of Obama’s successful bailout of the auto industry. That Romney got any votes at all is still a mystery.
Sometime this week I hope to get back to normal Howdygram posts about meaningful topics such as shopping, Einsteins, Chinese food, laundry, trips to the Choctaw Casino and assorted other crapola. Politics is almost out of my system. I’m exhausted.
It’s time for a hot shower and a movie. Thank you for reading this!
I’m Marcy, the shorter half of Sam and Marcy, a pair of happily-married former Californians living it up in the Lone Star State. The Howdygram is my personal forum for a delightful variety of unrelated yet fascinating topics, such as why I hate diabetes, idiots in the news, progressive politics, old movies, online shopping conquests, food, retirement, life in Texas and other entertaining crap.
Cash and comments are welcome at all times. Thank you for reading this.
