This is a perfect opportunity for Texas diners to switch to Chinese.

In this post: Bustling activity, a citrus dilemma.

Howdygram headquarters has been bustling with SENIOR CITIZEN EXCITEMENT today, as evidenced by the neatly-typed list that appears below.

I WOKE UP AT 2:45 A.M. In case you give a crap, I had aching shins — glorioski! something new! — plus chest pains from being hunched over in a weird position and burning hot hands with stabby electric shocks due to diabetic peripheral neuropathy. The best remedy was to drink a South Pacific Marcytini — this is a regular Marcytini with some sugar-free Hawaiian Punch powder mixed in — and diddle around at my desk until I felt like a regular person again. I went back to bed at 4:15. (Sam didn’t know I was gone.)

Nothing relieves pain like a can of beef stew.

In this post: Unexpected naps, cheap eats.

It’s two hours before sunrise at Howdygram headquarters and I’m wide awake, the end result of two long and unexpected naps on Saturday, the second of which ended around 9 p.m. — Sam actually slept until 11:15 — followed by a ridiculously late dinner at midnight. Obviously we’re both upside-down but we don’t give a crap. We sleep when we’re tired and we eat when we’re hungry. AMERICA!

Nothing says “Happy Birthday Baby Jesus” like an outrageous waste of electricity.

In this post: Kvetching, raining, laundry and lights.

I’ve got another kvetch report to share in conjunction with my standard list of ongoing complaints that includes shitty knees, shitty feet and a terrifyingly low body temperature. Now I can add SHOULDER PAIN ever since I woke up yesterday with a really sore right shoulder like I just pitched an extra-inning baseball game. Ow, damn it.

Writing a Howdygram post is the only way out of my neuropathy hell. Also William Powell movies.

In this post: Neuropathy hell, William Powell, Thanksgiving giveaway.

Thursday night was one of the miserablest — so miserable I don’t even give a crap if that’s a real word or NOT — nights in recent memory, where I didn’t actually go to bed AT ALL. Around 6:30 in the morning I finally dragged myself to the family room and slept on the chaise until 9, hung out in the study with Sam until he left at 10:30 to pick up my insulin prescription and a load of dry cleaning, and then headed back to the chaise, where I remained unconscious until shortly after 3. I totally missed lunch — HOLY CRAP! — and I don’t remember saying goodbye to Sam when he left for work at 1:15.

The truth about Wal-Mart’s finest-quality $20 microfiber sheets.

In this post: A microfiber bedtime story. 

I hate my sheets. This is the second night in a row I woke up hot as hell at 4 a.m., and I know these sheets are the reason why. And it’s unfortunate, too, because they’re Wal-Mart’s finest-quality $20 microfiber sheets — that’s not a typo: 20 bucks for a set of king-size sheets! — and to the touch they’re soft as silk and light as air. Too bad the damn things don’t BREATHE.

Crappy side effects, epic naps, gefilte fish and retro sex.

In this post: A message to Texans, diabetes sucks, historical erotica.

3 A.M. I’m parked at my desk with a headache and a nice tall Marcytini. Sam and I went to bed at midnight but I woke up two hours later with a miserable wet rash all over my body thanks to another battle with hypothermia. This is is a very crappy side effect of diabetic autonomic neuropathy and usually ends with a rash whenever my body tries too hard to generate its own heat. So I decide to take a shower at 2 a.m., and now I have to hang around until my hair dries because I don’t want the blow dryer to disturb Sam. It’s always something. Holy crap.

Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland and other late-night entertainment.

Warmest greetings from Howdygram headquarters, where it’s been torrentially wet and unexpectedly stormy since late yesterday afternoon. We’ve probably had at least 1½ inches of rain so far with more thundercrap on the way overnight and a full day of rain forecast for Thursday. As a result, it’s possible that our junket to the Choctaw Casino might be postponed if we don’t get a break in the weather, and I’m understandably devastated in advance about missing the sugar-free pie at Butterfield’s Buffet. The map below illustrates our current weather situation and the big pink star indicates Howdygram headquarters. If you zoom in, I’m the attractive but grumpy senior citizen in the window clutching an empty fork.

During an especially noisy period of consecutive thunderstorms Wednesday night Sam and I ordered dinner from China City and watched Frankenstein (1931) with Colin Clive, Boris Karloff and Mae Clarke. Believe it or not, I’d never seen the entire movie before and thought it was definitely creepy, atmospheric, scary and extremely well done, especially when you consider there were no computer-generated backgrounds or special effects.

And finally, if you’ve been following the ongoing saga of Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland I’m pleased to announce that MY BLOOD SUGAR IS FINALLY UNDER CONTROL. I’m injecting 86 units of Lantus® insulin every night at bedtime. So far, so good. And as long as I’m composing a health-centered paragraph, the annoying flu-ish symptoms I had last night never morphed into anything substantial and I’m feeling fine. (Thank you for asking.)

I think I’ll pour myself a nice tall Marcytini and play a new slot machine game on my iPad. If I close the door to the study I can even turn on the sound and not disturb Sam, who went to bed about 45 minutes ago. The sound effects are amazing and you really feel like you’re in a casino except nobody’s sitting next to you with a cigarette blowing smoke in your face.

Thank you for reading this.

Perfect weather for sitting on the patio with a book and chocolate milk.

Show of hands. Anybody ever tried a snack called Popcorners? I just ordered some from Amazon.com after reading a pile of five-star reviews. Apparently this stuff tastes exactly like real popcorn except it’s healthy and cheap. I especially like cheap. Amazon sells a dozen 5-ounce bags for $15 with free shipping, which is almost $9 less than the manufacturer’s website. Popcorners come in a bunch of flavors like Butter, Cheesy Jalapeño, Caramel and Kettle; I ordered ordinary Butter because I always gravitate towards the classics. Another good example would be Oscar Mayer baloney.

Incidentally, I’m expecting my Popcorners delivery on Thursday if you’d like to come over and split a bag with me. I’ll even make Marcytinis.

We’re having some lovely weather this week in case you’re interested ... sunny, temperatures in the 70s and 80s, and an insignificant chance of thunderstorms on Friday afternoon. Mostly this is perfect for sitting on the patio with a book and chocolate milk. I’m almost done reading my Clifton Webb biography; Myrna Loy is next. I have enough sugar-free Nesquik in stock to last through both.

Don’t forget about Thursday; send an email if you’re coming over. Say hi to the family for me, okay?

If you zoom in, I’m the one in the window with a box of TicTacs.

Okay, I admit it. This time Weather.com finally got it right ... and that’s why I couldn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday! Although our monster storm system didn’t get underway until 8 last night — more than 12 hours later than the original forecast — wild afternoon winds gusting to 50 m.p.h. knocked out our electrical power and left us in the dark from 6 p.m. until maybe half an hour ago. What a night. I was here by myself with nothing to do except eat a can of fake meat with hot glass of Coke Zero in a room illuminated by two flameless candles and a flashlight and then take a nap on the chaise in the family room. Sam got home from work at 10:30.

Here’s our current weather map. We’ve already had 4¾ inches of rain and expect at least two more before this all ends today around noon. The pink star below denotes Howdygram headquarters in Mesquite. If you zoom in, I’m the one in the window with a box of TicTacs and a blue bathrobe. (Sam is still in bed or he’d be waving at you, too.)

Right now I think I’ll pour myself a nice tall Marcytini if we still have any ice cubes and then maybe go back to bed for a while. It’s thundering like crazy and thunder always sounds better in bed.

Tonight’s dinner will include a large slice of number 3 and a Marcy-tini.

I’m proud of me! I just wrapped up that three-panel brochure project for my client in Wisconsin and emailed her PDF proof about 15 minutes ago. I love how it turned out and I hope she doesn’t want to change anything because it took all day to fit the text and images. Plus I’m not in the mood for any nitpicky crap tonight.

I also just finished designing a logo for a new website client named Desmond who’s opening a wedding cake bakery in South Carolina. I have no idea if he’ll like this or not because he’d already designed his own frightening logo and thought it was a genuine winner even though he created it in Microsoft Word — the most useless software on earth unless you’re typing a sixth grade book report — using Times Roman and a low-resolution snapshot of a flower that he downloaded from the Internet. I practically regurgitated my lunch and then created the following:

Incidentally, I offered Desmond a discounted package deal for logo design and business cards since he’s already paying big bucks for his new website. Stay tuned for the feedback.

Holy cow, it’s already 8:45 p.m. and I haven’t planned out my dinner yet! Fortunately I’ve got some exciting culinary options: 1) baloney and American cheese on white bread; 2) a can of Loma Linda fake meat; 3) pie; and 4) scrambled eggs. I could even combine a couple of these to make a complete and balanced meal, such as 1, 2 or 4 followed by a large slice of number 3 and a Marcytini. Please send an email if you’d like to vote, but do it soon because I’m starving. Thank you.

Today only! Free pancakes for everybody on earth!

Thanks to that idiotic extended nap yesterday it’s after 4 a.m. and I’m still wide awake with my second full-strength Marcytini. To fill the time I just posted my recipe for Sugar-Free Black Bottom Banana Cream Pie and now, for your possible amusement, I’d like to share this fine photo of GOP funnyman Rick Santorum with his handsome wife and happy offspring.

Holy crap, wouldn’t they make us proud in the White House? (I honestly can’t believe I just typed that last sentence.)

Breaking news in case you’re hungry. Today is National Pancake Day and IHOP is offering everybody on earth a FREE “SHORT STACK” OF BUTTERMILK PANCAKES from 7 a.m. through 10 p.m. in return for a donation to the Children’s Miracle Network. Wow!

However, there’s a $5.95 surcharge for syrup plus $2.95 for 30-minute fork rental. (I might be kidding about this.)

I think I’m finally tired enough to go to bed. All I need is a quick slug of water and I’m done. Thank you for reading this!

Sucking TicTacs for fun and profit.

It’s the middle of the night here in Howdygramland and I don’t know why I’m not asleep. Sam and I watched the last half of Amadeus when he got home from work last night and I really thought I was tired when we shut down the TV and went to bed at 12:45. Well, I guess not! About half an hour later I popped out of bed — wide awake — and decided to write a post and horse around online for a while. Thank you for hanging out with me.

I don’t know if anybody cares or not, but Chicago is in the middle of a snowstorm right now that’s called a “Saskatchewan Screamer.” I have no idea what this means but apparently they’ll have something substantial to shovel in the morning. (Better them than me.)

And now for a brief recap of “Top Chef ,” which continues to sink to new depths for manufactured drama, annoying product placement and contestants void of any discernible talent. Judging from comments I’ve read all over the Internet, nobody — including me — gives a flying crap who wins this thing next week. Even though all the challenges have been staged here in Texas, the season’s three-part finale has been filmed in a blizzard on top of Whistler Mountain in Vancouver, British Columbia, but nobody has bothered to explain why.

For your possible interest here’s an image of this season’s cheftestants, doctored in Photoshop by a blogger named Deeky. (The faces are all his; the bodies belong to the sleazebags of “Jersey Shore.”)

Holy crap, it’s already after 4 a.m. and I haven’t had any sleep! I’d really like to sneak into the kitchen for a snack and a Marcytini but I don’t want to: 1) wake Sam by making noise; and 2) end up with indigestion. Maybe I’ll just suck one last TicTac and try going back to bed. Thank you for reading this.

Please ... no remedial farmers in the White House.

So here’s the plan for Sunday. I woke up about an hour ago and decided I desperately need a pot of homemade beef barley soup today (except with chicken) so I’ll finish this post, go back to bed for a while and then drive over to Tom Thumb to pick up a few ingredients. I have almost everything in the house already except celery, barley, vegetable broth, kidney beans, baby carrots, chicken breasts, spinach and mushrooms. Okay, maybe “almost everything” was a small exaggeration. The only ingredients I’ve actually got are diced tomatoes, salt and parsley flakes.

Even though he’s back in Texas now, y’all should be very, very thankful that Governor Rick Perry (pictured at right in the middle of that famous “oops” moment) has exited the national stage as a candidate for President. And this is because THE DUDE IS AN IDIOT. In college he majored in Agriculture, barely squeaked by with a 2.0 GPA and a degree in Animal Science, and then proceeded to grease his way into politics because he never had the talent to do anything else. I downloaded Perry’s transcripts from a local news website yesterday and they paint a mighty grim picture: Cs, Ds and Fs in practically everything except for a B in “The Basics of Livestock Grading” in 1971. Obviously he was even too stupid to master the skills for farming. This sure sounds presidential, doesn’t it?

Time for a quick Marcytini and then I’d better get a little more sleep so I won’t fall down in Tom Thumb’s produce department. I’ll write more later. I promise.

Doesn’t every presidential candidate have his own grenade launcher?

I shouldn’t be here right now. I shouldn’t be sitting at my desk with a Marcytini writing a Howdygram post at 5:15 in the morning because Sam is taking me to the Choctaw Casino today to play the penny slots and eat sugar-free pie and I don’t want to conk out in the car on the way to Oklahoma! (Don’t tell anybody, but I frequently tend to do this whether I get enough sleep or not.)

And now for a little comic relief from the GOP’s race to the White House. I uncovered a feature story last night on ABC’s news website about macho good ol’ boy Rick Perry and his lifelong love affair with — you guessed it — GUNS. During a recent hunting trip in Iowa, Perry told a reporter, “It’s been a long love affair with a boy and his gun that turned into a man and his gun, and it turned into a man and his son and his daughter and their guns.” He believes the second amendment to the Constitution gives him the right to carry a gun when he goes jogging with his daughter so he can kill coyotes. (He actually does this.) Perry is pictured below with his favorite weapon of choice.

Governor Blowhard has decided not to compete in New Hampshire where a new poll shows him at the bottom of the GOP field with less than one percent, so he’s focusing instead on South Carolina where he’s polling much better at five percent. I guess we should be grateful that Michele Bachmann dropped out of the race. She gave Rick Perry a guaranteed shot at finishing last.

I think I’ll head back to bed now and keep Sam company for a couple of hours. Thanks for stopping by and don’t forget to turn out the lights when you’re through.

No pretzels and the sweaters from hell.

Lucky you … I’m wide awake at 2:30 a.m., posting another intriguing entry to the Howdygram with a nice, tall Marcytini to keep me company. A bowl of pretzels would be swell, too, but we don’t have any in the pantry and I’m way too old for a middle-of-the-night snack run to Wal-Mart. Plus it’s 34° outside. I may be hungry, but I’m not crazy.

And now, something from the Howdygram’s Why It’s Great To Be Jewish department ... classic examples of designer Christmas fashions for goyim. I’d be willing to bet the models posing below also have neon reindeer and inflatable spinning Santas on their front lawns, just like our neighbor across the street.

I should think about going to bed now. Our handyman, Gary, is coming over later today to do a couple of projects for us — such as re-caulking the shower in the master bathroom — and it would be really nice if I didn’t need an afternoon nap because I stayed up all night writing about pretzels, Christmas sweaters and caulk.

Incidentally, there are only 11 more days until Hanukkah, so please stay tuned for my official wish list. Thank you in advance for your generosity.

Hot topics for Monday: socks, bread, boobies and cats who love figure skating.

Today is laundry day in Howdygramland. When I finish this post it’s my plan to curl up in the family room with a Marcytini, a William Powell movie and a 50-pound basket of socks and underwear. Please feel free to drop in with a nice coffee cake or — better yet — a large order of those new fries from Burger King. (The suspense is killing me.)

Immediately after my Monday afternoon folding marathon the main attraction in the Howdygram Test Kitchen will be “Marcy Bakes a Loaf of Barley Bread.” I honestly can’t think of anything better on a cold and crappy day than hot bread and butter ... although Cheetos, Mongolian chicken and halva also come to mind. Plus pizza.

Glorioski ... guess what shipped today! My roasting pan! My leather bench! My insulin needles! My furry throw! My wax paper! It’s a shopper’s paradise around here after receiving a string of happy emails from Amazon and Overstock.com. Everything should arrive by Thursday, at which time I’ll post an update with pictures.

And now for some breaking news. According to the Associated Press, a south Florida geezer has been sentenced to 13 months in prison for offering free door-to-door breast exams at a local apartment complex. Phillip Winikoff (pictured below), 81, managed to assault two victims before the police caught up with him.

Even though the Broward County prosecutor’s office has labeled Winikoff a “sex offender,” I think he’s just a resourceful old dude trying to find a way to squeeze a few boobies. The Einsteins who should go to prison are the two stupid women who opened the door and said YES.

And finally, in an effort to maintain the Howdygram’s overall cuteness level here’s a video clip I think you’ll enjoy. It’s a litter of kittens watching and reacting to a figure skating competition on Japanese TV.



Thank you for reading this.

The sneezy, thirsty insomniac.

That’s me, in case you haven’t guessed by now. I had solid plans to hit the sack after Sam and I finished watching a PBS special last night but everything went kablooey at some point. I conked out in the family room, Sam crept off to bed, and now I’m sitting here at 2:30 in the morning, sneezing for no apparent reason, with kleenex and a huge Marcytini to keep me company.

I should probably just go to bed. I didn’t get much sleep last night, either, and I’ll feel crappy all day if I do that again. Thanks for stopping by.

There's nothing as constant as change.

Surprise! I gave the Howdygram a FACE LIFT today! I was getting a little tired of that grungy pink and brown banner and decided to go “vintage western” instead with a pattern that reminds me of saloon wallpaper. So this is the Howdygram’s OFFICIAL NEW LOOK until I get bored again, probably sometime next year. I’ve also decided to take a break from movie reviews for a while so I deleted all the navigation links under the banner. I hope y’all approve. Thank you.

President Obama was right here in Mesquite today giving a speech about his jobs bill at a local community college. Since Texas is HUGELY Republican the President’s visit was barely publicized with a cryptic two-sentence statement on the Dallas Morning News website that practically everybody missed, including me. I found out at breakfast from Sam. Had I known about this a couple of days ago I would have invited the President to come over for a bowl of soup and a couple of “People’s Court” reruns. Below is a photo of studly Bubba Obama posing in a Stetson.

We’ve been getting ready for my brother-in-law’s visit this weekend. So far our projects have included cleaning out the freezer and refrigerator because we don’t want to scare him with weird leftovers, sprucing up the guest room, hauling some old bedding to Good Will, and Sam still wants to hose down the patio and garage. However I’m positive that David isn’t very likely to care about ANY of this. I think his flight gets in around 4 p.m. on Saturday. Sam has the itinerary.

I think I’ll mosey into the kitchen now and whip up something awesome for dinner — either a can of Campbell’s bean soup (seriously) or leftover egg foo young with a great big Marcytini and half a box of Liberty Orchards Fruit Delights. Company is always welcome.

I love my life. Thank you for reading this.

Early morning cravings, part two.

Sam wasn’t irritated, just kind of disinterested. He gave me a crinkle-face when I suggested brunch at Blue Mesa because last time we were there our waiter was crabby, so I forged ahead to “Plan B” — Cheetos and a Prilosec capsule washed down with an ice cold Marcytini and an old Dr. Kildare movie starring Lew Ayres and Lionel Barrymore. I’m definitely living the good life here!

More later. Thank you for stopping by.

Assorted diversions.

In an effort to avoid the crushing boredom of Sarah Palin’s just-released emails from her brief but forgettable half-term as governor of the Arctic, I decided to spend my first Sam-free Saturday night with a sack of Cheetos, a tall Marcytini and a pair of fine films — Pillow Talk and Murder on the Orient Express.

(Don’t tell anybody, but that was probably the most excellent lead-in sentence I’ve ever written.)

Actually, I also spent some time tonight ordering air freshener refills from Yankee Candle (see photo), filling my seven-day pill sorter for the week ahead, rinsing out a few dishes and admiring the haircut I got this morning. No kidding, this is absolutely the best haircut I’ve had since I moved to Texas in 2007. Carmina is a new stylist at the salon I’ve been using for the last couple of years and I told her if she ever decides to leave I’ll have to throw myself in front of a city bus. (I might be exaggerating a little. Maybe just a Volkswagen.)

And now it’s time to head back into the family room to watch a couple of vintage Julia Child episodes that I recorded yesterday on The Cooking Channel. (You can tell these have to be extremely old reruns because her mixing bowls are AVOCADO GREEN.)

Julia Child is brilliant, hilarious and adorable. Last week she taught me the right way to hard-boil eggs. Seriously.

I might stay up all night. Thank you for reading this and bon appetit, y’all.