Naps, like canned tamales, can solve anything.

In this post: NFL playoffs, meaningful meatloaf, no laundry today, Sochi 2014.

I’m moping around with a bag of sugar-free Russell Stover peanut butter cups, trying to figure out what I want to do with the rest of my Sunday. Sam is at the office and won’t be home until around 7 Monday morning, which leaves me here at Howdygram headquarters with nobody to talk to and practically nothing to do. A few possibilities include: 1) starting a meaningful relationship with some leftover meatloaf; 2) laughing at the Packers and 49ers freezing their stupid asses off in Green Bay; 3) doing laundry, but I wouldn’t count on it; and 4) the season four premier of “Downton Abbey” tonight on PBS. I also might consider another nap because I’m slightly bored, my feet are cold and there’s no good reason not to. Naps, like canned tamales, can solve anything. Tell your friends.

I don’t own square plates and I don’t garnish anything with wrinkled shrubbery.

There must be something wrong with me. At 5:30 this morning I woke up with a craving for spaghetti and meat sauce, and it was so bad that I sat at my desk playing out the entire scenario in my head for at least half an hour, including how to get my great big pot out of the cabinet without making any noise and wondering if we have enough parmesan cheese. (I like a LOT of parmesan cheese.) Eventually I wound up going back to bed and didn’t actually eat anything until lunch, at which time I reheated an unusually large bowl of Five-Minute Stupid Soup leftover from last night’s dinner.

It is presently 6:40 p.m. and once again I find that I’m obsessed with spaghetti and meat sauce. I’ve got a package of Carb Counters Skinni Spaghetti calling my name from the pantry, and with only 12 carbs in the whole damn box I can go for total gluttony if I want to. Either that, or I might print out a sheet of new spice jar labels and order Mongolian chicken. You can stay tuned for my final decision but it’s not likely that anybody really gives a crap about this.

For the record, my spaghetti and meat sauce looks exactly like this photo except I don’t own square plates and I don’t garnish anything with wrinkled shrubbery.

Show of hands. Does anybody besides me think Manti Te’o should be a mental patient instead of a linebacker? You know, that football doofus from Notre Dame who’s mourning a dead girlfriend who never existed? In a press conference today Te’o finally admitted that he had an online romance that began in 2009 with a fake girl named Lennay Kekua from Stanford University who was in a fake severe car crash and died — tragically — of fake leukemia on December 6. Apparently the only thing that’s real here is his stupidity.

An article today on Deadspin.com uncovered all the facts behind Manti’s almost unbelievable tale of deception:

“There is no SSA record of the death of Lennay Marie Kekua, that day or any other. Her passing, recounted so many times in the national media, produces no obituary or funeral announcement in Nexis, and no mention in the Stanford student newspaper. Nor is there any report of a severe auto accident involving a Lennay Kekua. Background checks turn up nothing. The Stanford registrar’s office has no record that a Lennay Kekua ever enrolled. There is no record of her birth in the news. Outside of a few Twitter and Instagram accounts, there’s no online evidence that Lennay Kekua ever existed. The photographs identified as Kekua — in online tributes and on TV news reports — are pictures from the social media accounts of a 22-year-old California woman who is not named Lennay Kekua. She is not a Stanford graduate; she has not been in a severe car accident; and she does not have leukemia. And she has never met Manti Te’o.”

While sports commentators are throwing around the possibility that Notre Dame will probably dump him, I think Te’o has a strong future and a shot at the NFL. Not too many players start their football careers with an advanced case of brain trauma.

Thank you for reading this.

I hope underwear isn’t obsolete because I refuse to stop wearing mine.

A brief word about this fiscal cliff horseshit. CONGRESS MAKES ME SICK. I keep wondering why homicidal maniacs with assault weapons only show up at grammar schools and theaters. I’m just saying.

Tonight we’re waiting for rain here at Howdygram headquarters. It’s on the way for sure with a 90% chance starting around 5 a.m. and lasting all day Monday. Cold, crappy, bone-chilling, beautiful rain that we need DESPERATELY. In the meantime Sam and I ordered ourselves a pile of food from China City tonight because nothing says NFL football like egg rolls and Mongolian chicken. Unfortunately, the Washington Redskins trampled the Dallas Cowboys in a basically depressing game and blew us out of a slot in the playoffs ... not that we actually deserved to be there, quite honestly. Missing from the Cowboys’ roster tonight were teammates Josh Brent and Jerry Brown, for reasons indicated below.

Brent is responsible for Brown’s status due to a car wreck on December 8, whereby Brent was charged with intoxication manslaughter (translation: the dude was drunk). He’s not especially popular these days.

Sam is stretched out in the family room wrapped in Mister Furry — our gigantic faux mink throw — watching one of those Pirates of the Caribbean movies. I don’t know which one, but it doesn’t matter since they’re all the same and everybody has rotten teeth. It’s all a little too realistic for me.

From our I’ll Do Anything To Stay Famous department comes this photo of America’s reigning tramp Kim Kardashian, on her way into a Miami restaurant wearing a black elastic bra with a transparent skirt. The view from the front must have stopped traffic. I hope underwear isn’t obsolete because I refuse to stop wearing mine.

For months I’ve been on the lookout for wholesome family entertainment that doesn’t involve Turner Classic Movies, and I think I’ve finally found the answer. I just bought an ELECTRIC TOOTHBRUSH on Amazon! This isn’t one of those fancy-schmancy gadgets that your dentist tries to sell you for $99, though. It’s a $5 Spinbrush with a couple hundred five-star user reviews, so I ordered one for me and one for Sam plus a package of refills. Now we can stand at the sink together, hold hands and spin our teeth into breathtaking whiteness all at the same time. Holy crap, does this sound like fun, or what?

I have no idea what’s wrong with me tonight so maybe I’ll just inject some insulin and go to bed. Thank you for reading this.

I don’t want to look like a raccoon.

Yes, I know the campaign is over. Yes, I know I can finally stop 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.

Thank you for reading this.

Mazel tov to the Chicago Bears.

They did it. The Bears squished the Seattle Seahawks 35 to 24 in yesterday’s divisional playoff game at Soldier Field. I don’t think anybody in the stands paid attention to the crappy weather (19° with blowing snow), although I got so cold watching in high-definition that I had to make Cream of Wheat and wrap myself in a blanket. The photo below shows quarterback Jay Cutler congratulating Brian Urlacher for being really bald.

The next Bears game is this coming Sunday when they play the Green Bay Packers in Chicago. THIS IS A VERY BIG HOO-HAH FOR ME, and I sincerely hope the Bears can kick those curds right back to dairyland. Hold a good thought.

I’m going to organize some closet and pantry shelves now with a bunch of very cool stuff I bought yesterday at The Container Store. Actually, I placed my order online last week and then sent Sam to the retail store in Dallas to pick it all up. This is actually a very smart way to shop. You don’t get charged for shipping, you don’t have to shlep through the store and there’s NO IMPULSE BUYING ... which is a major issue for me because I love their products and typically want everything I can get my hands on.

Thank you for reading this. And please don’t forget to enter the Howdygram’s New Year Giveaway. Less than two weeks to go before we draw the winners!

Marcy's guide to NFL football.

In case you missed it, the Green Bay Packers demolished the Atlanta Falcons 48 to 21 last night in their divisional playoff game. And later today Sam and I will watch the Bears against the Seahawks at Soldier Field. GO BEARS!

I really like watching football on TV and I’m proud to tell you I fully understand the game’s most important concepts, such as interceptions, an incomplete pass, getting sacked, fumbling, field goals, touchdowns, unnecessary celebrations and the difference between a turnover and strudel. I also know what the red zone is, that the clock stops if a player with the ball runs out of bounds and you’re never supposed to grab anybody’s face mask. I don’t think whacking a quarterback in the nuts is allowed, either. You’d probably get a red flag and a penalty for that.

But there are lots of stupid football quirks that I don’t get at all ... even when Sam tries to explain them to me. For instance:

• Who are all those groupies on the sidelines with clipboards and how much do they get paid. (See above photo.)
• Why are players required to dangle their drippy mouthguards on national television.
• What’s the job title of the guy who squirts Gatorade.
• I will NEVER understand the purpose of a two-minute warning.
• Why does it take half an hour for the last minute on the clock to run out.
• Can somebody please explain “rushing”.
• How come baseball players wear long-sleeve uniforms but football players DON’T, and does this have anything to do with tattoos.
• What the hell is a “nose tackle”.

If any Howdygram readers can enlighten me on these subjects, please feel free to post a comment or send me an email. Thank you.

Mazel tov to the fine citizens of Cheeseville.

In case you haven’t heard the news, it was an outstanding day for football playoffs as the Green Bay Packers squished the Philadelphia Eagles 21 to 16. The parting shot showed creepy Eagles quarterback Michael Vick and his arrogant little pal DeSean Jackson, both injured, limping off their home field with mighty crabby faces. This, all by itself, was cause for an intense celebration here in Howdygramland.

And for all of you happy Green Bay fans, here’s an opportunity to show some team spirit with your own official NFL Green Bay Packers Cheesehead Hat, a genuine bargain at $19.99 that’s guaranteed to fit damn near everybody. As a bonus, you can even flip it upside down and serve snacks in it during the game. Buy yours here at the NFL store.

And now I’m going to empty the dryer, fold a bunch of hot towels and join Sam in the family room for a couple of good movies on TCM. Tonight’s films include The Caine Mutiny with Humphrey Bogart and a Cary Grant movie from 1932 called This Is the Night. Life is wonderful in Texas. Shalom, please floss and thank you for reading this.