Celebrating Sunday. Thunderstorms, baloney and great crap on TV.

In this post: Blackouts, baloney, thunderstorms, a train wreck.

It’s 4:30 in the morning and Sam and I woke up about an hour ago. This is what happens when a person takes too many naps! In my case, though, it resulted from a huge hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) crisis at lunch-time yesterday when I practically blacked out followed by such overwhelming fatigue that I slept on the chaise for SIX HOURS. By the time I woke up — around 6 p.m., I think — the whole day was shot to hell.

Proof that you don’t need any functioning brain cells to be an Olympic swimmer.

Everybody knows I’m a big fan of “Project Runway,” and last night’s episode finally revealed the three finalists (pictured below) who will show their collections at Fashion Week. I have to admit, I’m underwhelmed this year.

Patricia creates capes with horsehair fringe for Native Americans, Michelle’s designs are all Victorian “steampunk” in dark green (seriously) with quilted leggings and pounds of hardware, and Stanley’s clothes are simply, in a word: GORGEOUS. I’d wear them in a heartbeat, and that’s exactly why he’ll never win: I’M IN MY SIXTIES. I can’t imagine any fashion designer ever hitting the big time if his target customers are senior citizens with corrective shoes and boring underpants. Nevertheless, try to tune in next Thursday night on Lifetime to see who wins. If you care.

And now a little something from the zany world of politics! Jon “Einstein” Lundberg, a Republican State Senator from Tennessee, finally found time to focus his efforts on passing a vital and long-deserved resolution: A resolution honoring himself. The resolution was written by Lundberg’s staff to honor the 20th anniversary of the Senator’s P.R. firm. When asked about spending $300 of the taxpayer’s money on a self-congratulating resolution, Lundberg remarked that he paid back the state of Tennessee for the cost of the paper. (How about also reimbursing taxpayers for this indefensible waste of time?) According to local news station WSMV, this wasn’t Lundberg’s first abuse, because he also passed a resolution honoring his daughter when she graduated from high school. Holy crap.

At last, here’s ample proof that you don’t need any functioning brain cells to be an Olympic swimmer! A pair of anchors on Fox’s Philadelphia morning show dissolve into hysterics after interviewing vacant Ryan Lochte about his upcoming reality TV show, “What Would Ryan Lochte Do?”, which focuses on Ryan partying at Hooters, Ryan getting drunk, Ryan posing without a shirt and Ryan learning how to tie his shoes. 



Lochte’s reality show premiers on Sunday, April 21, at 9 p.m. Central on E! Entertainment. For the record, I think I’d rather watch “What Would Terri Schiavo Do?”.

And now for a welcome diversion from the Boston Marathon bombing, here’s a video of a Russian cat playing with a vacuum cleaner hose. On YouTube it’s titled “Кот и пылесос.” This can probably best be translated as: “In Search of Last Night’s Hairball.”



My Friday night sock-folding party starts in 30 minutes. Thank you for reading this.

Rednecks that make Jed Clampett look like the Duke of Edinburgh.

Holy crap, y’all, I just watched half an hour of the worst television EVER. After reading frightening reviews, recaps and endless buzz about a new show on The Learning Channel called “Here Comes Honey Boo Boo” I decided to record an episode tonight to see what the hell everybody’s talking about. It’s even lousier than I expected, featuring a family of redneck Einsteins in rural Georgia, a squealing pet pig named Glitzy who poops on the dining room table and a seriously loud and obese six-year-old — the aforementioned Honey Boo Boo — who requires every dime from the family’s bank account to enter BEAUTY PAGEANTS. Her fancy dresses cost $2,000 each while the rest of them survive on Pop Tarts, ramen noodles and juice boxes. It just can’t get any worse than this.

Watching these clowns interact makes Jed Clampett look like the Duke of Edinburgh. They fart on camera, toilet paper their own house and maybe have a combined fifth grade education if you add all their years of schooling together and multiply by three. In tonight’s episode, June (the mama) and Sugar Bear (the happy dude sitting on the top step who has no teeth) were celebrating their eighth anniversary even though they’re not married. For your possible interest, Sugar Bear is Honey Boo Boo’s father; the three other girls all have different daddies, none of whom married June for reasons that should be obvious. Their big anniversary hoo-hah was dinner for two at a neighborhood cafeteria, where June proceeded to eat chicken fried steak with her hands followed by three desserts. Sugar Bear gave her a large bronze deer statue as a present because they like to pick up dead bucks along the highway for road kill cookouts.

This was 30 minutes of my life I’ll never get back. From now on I’m sticking with educational programming like “Project Runway,” “Hardcore Pawn” and Andy Hardy movies. Thank you for reading this.

Holy McShitsky ... healthy options for world-class athletes!

First and foremost, please accept my apology for not writing any Howdygram posts for the last couple of days. On Sunday I got caught up making tacos and watching the British Open, and yesterday I spent most of the day working on website updates for a couple of annoying clients who are — is there a nice way to say this? — TECHNICAL IGNORAMUSES who don’t know a URL from a potted plant. (I definitely like their money, however.)

Breaking news from the London Olympics! After facing lots of flak and official scrutiny for being the world’s largest purveyor of USELESS HIGH-FAT CRAP, McDonald’s — the 2012 Games’ exclusive food vendor — has decided to promote itself as “low calorie” and “healthy” by distributing a chart of its menu items under 400 calories. This would include favorites like Sausage McMuffins, “snack size” Oreo McFlurries, a single hamburger, a small order of fries and water. Please keep in mind, however, that a typical McDonald’s meal adds up to far more than “400 calories.” A couple of McDoubles, a large order of fries and a chocolate shake contain 2,168 calories and 246 grams of fat. Holy McShitsky ... let’s thank McDonald’s for all these healthy options for world-class athletes!

In case you’re looking for some top-quality TV entertainment tonight, the Howdygram recommends the two-hour season finale of “Deadliest Catch” on Discovery and this week’s episode of “Hardcore Pawn” on TruTV. No kidding, these are the best programs on television and if you’re not watching regularly a lot of high-quality reality is passing you by.

“Deadliest Catch” delivers the life-and-death hijinks of crab fishermen on the Bering Sea; with “Hardcore Pawn” you get a family of bickering Jewish pawnbrokers (visit their website) battling homicidal lunatics in the bowels of Detroit. Seriously, what’s not to love?

On the subject of homicidal lunatics for a minute, accused mass murderer James Holmes appeared confused and unstable in a Colorado court yesterday, where he exhibited signs of psychotic behavior and even nodded off during the proceedings. Experts are scrambling for an explanation and several have suggested that Holmes could be “faking it.” Trust me, HE’S NOT. Holmes is criminally isane. He let police capture him alive, told them his apartment was booby-trapped and then sat in jail playing with evidence bags like hand puppets. The face pictured below is Satan with a L’Oreal Paris dye job. 

On a more cheerful note, in a few minutes I’m going to watch one of my all-time favorite napping movies: Around the World in 80 Days (1956) with David Niven and Cantinflas. The musical score and cinematography are hypnotic, and the cast is a who’s who of classic movie star cameos featuring Ronald Colman, Noel Coward, John Gielgud, Charles Boyer, Gilbert Roland, Frank Sinatra, Cedric Hardwicke, George Raft, Marlene Dietrich, Peter Lorre, Red Skelton and Buster Keaton, to name a few. Also Andy Devine and Cesar Romero. (God forbid I should forget Andy Devine and Cesar Romero.)

Thank you for reading this. I know I say this a lot, but I’m not joking.

The Great Eyebrow Incident and other news.

Holy crap, I just woke up from the nap of a lifetime! Seriously, I conked out on the chaise in our family room around 4:45 and slept like somebody drugged me until around 7 p.m. I feel like a million bucks now. Let’s get a pizza! (Okay, not really.)

The aforementioned nap of a lifetime notwithstanding, my entire day has been extremely strange, come to think of it. At noon I decided to drive to Gio’s New York Deli in Dallas — yes, I realize how weird that sounds — to buy the chopped liver I’ve been craving for the last few weeks, except when I was practically there I realized I didn’t want chopped liver after all, turned around at the Park Central exit on I-635 and headed back to Mesquite, where I pulled into Slab’s, less than three minutes from home, for some good ol’ TEXAS BARBECUE. I got me a box of chopped brisket and a little bucket of sauce. (Slab’s has great sauce.) Yee-haw!

The map below indicates: A) Howdygram headquarters in Mesquite; B) Gio’s New York Deli in Dallas; C) the exit where I turned around on I-635; and D) Slab’s Barbecue on Galloway Avenue. In case you care, Slab’s has two parking spots and there’s a tailor shop next door.

Continuing with my “extremely strange day” theme, I accidentally ELIMINATED MY EYEBROWS this morning. Trust me ... do NOT buy Veet unless you’re planning to rip the hair off your legs or another very large area of real estate!

It’s the classic conundrum. I can’t do my eyebrows when I’m wearing my glasses, but if I take them off I’m blind as a bat. I didn’t let that stop me. I went ahead and used Veet wax strips on the “unibrow” region — or so I thought — and essentially tore off both eyebrows in the process. Sam asked if it hurt and I said no, on a general pain scale from 1 to 10, with 10 being plantar fasciitis and carpal tunnel syndrome, eyebrow removal is slightly less than 1. I’m not sure the answer made either of us very happy, however.

Octomom is in the news again. Nadya Suleman’s bankruptcy case was thrown out of court yesterday after she neglected to file all the required paperwork. This means the bank can move forward with foreclosure proceedings on her house in La Habra and the rest of her creditors can resume pursuing her for money. Suleman claims she has zero assets to pay her water and electric bills, her mortgage or her children’s school costs and estimates that she owes at least $500,000 and maybe as much as $1 million.

A few of Octomom’s creditors include her father, Kaiser Permanente Hospital, Sparkletts Water, all of her public utilities, cable TV, wireless service, a Christian school, a pre-school in Whittier and Sylvan Learning Center. In addition, she’s also being investigated by Children and Family Services that her house is unfit for habitation. Investigators found filth and chaos, holes punched in the walls, graffiti everywhere, a broken and barricaded bathroom and toddlers using a port-a-potty that’s located on the patio. It should be noted, however, that Octomom finds money for hair extensions — which cost about $1,000 — and a personal trainer. She is currently looking for work as a porn star.

I think I’ll go eat some gefilte fish, make myself a pineapple soda and watch five “Hardcore Pawn” reruns plus a strange movie I recorded yesterday on TCM ... The Hatchet Man (1932) starring Edward G. Robinson as a Chinese hit man and Loretta Young as his wife. This could turn out to be much worse than my eyebrows.

Have a nice day and say hi to the family for me.

It’s not a good idea to eat dinner watching a prizefight unless you’re a closet bulimic.

Know what? I’ve developed some strange television preferences during the last couple of years. Aside from enjoying quality reality programming such as “Hardcore Pawn,” “Real Housewives of New Jersey” and “Project Runway,” I’m also into sports, and I figure this is probably because we’ve got a pretty cool Sony 60-inch TV. I like to watch PGA golf, NFL football and — most recently — championship boxing.

Last night on HBO I watched the May 5 Cotto/Mayweather fight, during which a really well-matched pair of scrappy boneheads pummeled the crap out of each other for 12 rounds at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas. I definitely surprise myself when I watch something like this because I don’t seem to mind the violence of boxing. What I do mind, however, is what goes on in the corners between rounds. You get these intense, high-definition close-ups of the aforementioned boneheads dripping sweat while their helpers shout instructions, shove foot-long Q-tips up their noses and massage them with wads of Vaseline. Just for fun you also get to see them drool, spit water and bleed from their eyebrows. (Hint: it’s NOT a good idea to eat dinner watching a prizefight unless you’re a closet bulimic.)

It’s weird in the house when Sam’s out of town so maybe I should just go to bed since there’s nobody to talk to, I can’t think of anything else to eat and I already took all my night-time pills. Thank you for reading this.

Gun shows are extremely popular in Texas. I hope I never have to miss another one.

I was hoping to write a post on Sunday but somehow never got around to it because Sam and I spent most of the day either napping, eating or planning our next meal. In my view these were thoroughly worthwhile and productive activities. I also browsed around online and wound up ordering some cool wheelchair accessories on Amazon.com, which are pictured below for your possible interest.

The backpack is big enough to hold damn near anything (well, maybe not live animals) and closes with velcro; the cup holder clamps onto an arm rest of your choice. And while I’m on the subject, please allow me to make a quick comment here. In case you’ve been concerned about this, I am not an invalid nor am I confined to a wheelchair, but I do have ongoing mobility issues caused by arthritis, neuropathy and plantar fasciitis. I bought a wheelchair last week for outings and activities that might require standing or walking for long periods of time, such as a museum, a Chinese buffet, the state fair or a gun show. (Gun shows are extremely popular in Texas. I hope I never have to miss another one.)

Just in case you give a crap about this, I’ve got a haircut appointment later today at a new salon. I’d been going to Vince’s in Garland for the last few months but my stylist’s primary language is Korean and she typically misinterprets “not too short” to mean “shave my head and make me look butch.” So I think it’s finally time to move on. Stay tuned for further developments.

And now I’d better wake Sam so we can go to bed. He’s been asleep in the family room since 8:30, which allowed me ample time to watch this week’s episodes of “Veep,” “Mad Men” and “Real Housewives of New Jersey” plus two “Hardcore Pawn” reruns. Thank y’all for reading this.

If these are “real housewives,” I’m Princess Grace.

Breaking news! Season four of Bravo TV’s official trashfest, the “Real Housewives of New Jersey,” premiers tomorrow at 8 p.m. Central time. Trust me, you don’t want to miss the merry hijinks of five narcissistic, sequined bimbos — whose formal educations combined might equal one GED — and their Mafia wannabe husbands, who speak to one another with respect and affection, such as: “You look at my wife like that again and they’ll have to wire your jaw shut.” Mostly it’s great fun to watch them all spend money they don’t have, get into fistfights at family events and embarrass their children on national television. This is excellent programming and you shouldn’t miss it.

I have nothing else to report at this time except that it’s 2 a.m. and I should be in bed. Thanks a million for stopping by. Tune in later for news about my first batch of teeny pies!

Dental x-rays, brain cancer and Yu.

For the latest on Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland, I am now an official insulin junkie. This afternoon Dr. M prescribed Lantus, a once-a-day insulin pen injection at a dose I’ll increase in increments until we get my blood sugar under control. I’m okay with this, mostly because I have no choice and also because we’ve already tried every other non-insulin medication on the market. To celebrate, as soon as I got home I ordered a pile of diabetes supplies from Amazon.com — nobody’s cheaper than Amazon! — including a box of 100 8mm pen needles, 100 FreeStyle Lite test strips and a new FreeStyle Lite glucose meter because my old one is getting crappy.

Show of hands. Did anybody besides me notice the news story yesterday about bitewing dental x-rays causing BRAIN CANCER? Apparently a study from Yale University indicates that individuals over the age of 57 may develop meningioma from x-rays taken when they were children, at a time more than 40 years ago when x-ray film was slow and radiation was delivered at a dose equivalent to Chernobyl. Holy crap. All my life dentists have been draping me with that stupid lead apron … and now I find out they should have thrown it over my head. I probably glow in the dark and don’t even know it.

Here’s some breaking news from Dallas. Anybody ever heard of Yu Darvish? He’s the Texas Rangers’ new wonder child, a skinny little Japanese pitcher who looks like a GIRL. The locals are making waaay too much out of this weird little dude, sports columnists refuse to write about anything else, and I, for one, am already sick of reading about him her whatever. Seriously, does he look strange, or what?

I am thrilled to report that fame whore Khloe Kardashian — repulsive middle sister of the infamous Kardashian klan — will soon be moving out of Dallas because her husband, former basketball star Lamar Odom, has “parted ways” with the Dallas Mavericks. (This is a polite way to announce that he got his ass fired for being pathetic.) Khloe and Lamar will return to Los Angeles later this month to continue their fading career in reality TV and pose for additional pointless pictures.

I think my China City delivery guy just showed up. Thank you for reading this.

Gefilte fish. The other white meat.

Oy! In honor of Passover, which begins at sundown Friday, please allow me to post the following brand new photos of my great-nephew Cooper, 3 months old, who’s the cutest little matzo ball I’ve seen in years. I think he looks exactly like his father, although I’ve never seen Greg posing in a red inner tube with booties so it’s hard to say for sure.

And now I’d like to say a few words about gefilte fish, my #1 favorite Passover weakness. I love this stuff! I sent Sam to Tom Thumb this week to pick up six big jars for me on sale at $2.99 each — that’s about 60% off — plus a stockpile of horseradish so there’s no chance I’ll run out.

The gefilte fish cupcake pictured above is real ... but not actually “dessert.” I saw the recipe online. It’s just smooshed-up store-bought gefilte fish baked in cupcake tins with horseradish cream frosting. I don’t know about you, but I find this picture strangely exciting.

For the record, my #2 Passover weakness is beet borscht, which is impossible to find anywhere in Dallas because the local Jim-Bobs have no conception of anything that’s even remotely “ethnic” unless it’s a taco. So yesterday I ordered myself two big jars — sugar-free! — from the Manischewitz website. I like my borscht ice cold with a glob of sour cream mixed in. How about you?

A quick reminder to those of you with an interest in fine television programming! The new season of “Deadliest Catch” premiers April 10 on the Discovery Channel, and the season four trashfest of “Real Housewives of New Jersey” begins April 22 on Bravo. Thank you for reading this.

Texas demonstrates its hospitality with gunboats on the Rio Grande.

Glorioski, I just received another extraordinary bounty from UPS! A couple of hours ago I decided to wait for them in the living room window because I knew the cartons would weigh a ton and I’d never be able to shlep them inside by myself. It wasn’t exactly a waste of time, however, as I read 77 pages of the Clifton Webb biography that came yesterday.

Today’s UPS delivery included 12 cans of Loma Linda fake fried chicken (with gravy!) from Amazon.com and great big bottles of sugar-free raspberry and caramel syrup from DaVinci Gourmet. For obvious reasons I’m quite well-known in our social circle as an aficionado of fine food and literature. (Not really. We don’t have a social circle. We don’t even have friends.) I also received a pair of very cute natural-color canvas shoes that appear above in red because that’s the only picture I could find. I might order one more color because they fit great. Maybe olive.

Breaking news from the Lone Star State! Later this month the Texas Navy will deploy its fleet of six gunboats — two of which are illustrated below — that will cruise the Rio Grande to combat drug smuggling, illegal immigration and contraband burritos coming across the river from Mexico. Governor Rick “Guns-R-Us” Perry will help launch the first patrol as soon as his pirate hat arrives. Don’t mess with Texas, y’all.

And now it’s time for dinner, after which I plan to watch today’s episode of “People’s Court” and make a sugar-free pistachio cream pie. Do I have a great life, or what? Thank you for reading this.

Faux shepherd’s pie, a feast for the ages.

In case you’re interested, I’d like to report there’s nothing whatsoever that I need to do today. NOTHING. The dishwasher’s empty, my client projects are caught up, Sam has enough clean socks for at least a week and I don’t even feel motivated to bake a cake. I did, however, check out the new photos posted by my niece Allison on Snapfish.com, which included adorable shots of baby Cooper at one month old and Melissa’s little boy, Tyler, at 3½. Take a look below.

The rest of my day will be packed with essential activities from a “do” list I just compiled, which includes: 1) a trip to the kitchen for my second Marcy-tini refill; 2) watching the latest episodes of “Peoples Court” and “Top Chef”; 3) trying to figure out why the hell anybody would waste their time previewing Super Bowl commercials; and 4) dinner.

With regard to item four above, tonight I plan to nuke a faux shepherd’s pie (see below) from Schwan’s. This is a surprisingly tasty little entree even though it’s filled with BEEF rather than LAMB, an issue that triggers disillusionment, outrage, confusion and grief. (Note to Schwan’s: Shepherds tend sheep, not cows.)

If you want to come for dinner please send me an email within the next 45 minutes and I’ll try to save you some. For dessert we’re having faux ice cream. Thank you for reading this!

Celebrating homemade soup, frosted cake and a flood at White Rock Creek.

I’m pleased to report that I’ve had a thoroughly worthwhile and productive day. I made a gigantic pot of homemade soup, baked and frosted a sugar-free chocolate cake, cleaned up the kitchen twice, spent three hours working on client projects, wrote several Howdygram posts beginning at 5:30 this morning, took two delicious naps, listened to the rain and watched the State of the Union address.

I also enjoyed a couple of good movies (see below) ... a 1944 biopic about Woodrow Wilson surprisingly titled Wilson with Alexander Knox, and an odd Hitchcock costume drama from 1949 called Under Capricorn with Ingrid Bergman. (I believe I slept through a significant portion of the latter. Sorry, Ingrid.)

For all you weather nerds out there, we’ve already had an inch of rain today with two more inches expected overnight and another two inches expected tomorrow. This will make a very significant dent in our “extreme drought” situation, and apparently White Rock Creek in Dallas is already at flood stage. Yee-haw! A flood!

The map above indicates: A) the location where White Rock Creek always overflows at Northwest Highway; and B) White Rock Lake, which is surrounded by lots of very snooty homes.

To wrap up an otherwise perfect day I think it’s time to unwind, eat cake and watch tonight’s episodes of “Tabatha Takes Over” and “Hardcore Pawn.” Thank you for reading this, and I mean it sincerely.

A North Korean “Family Feud” and other news of interest.

I know I haven’t mentioned this before, but Sam is leaving for California on Saturday morning. There’s an 80th birthday bash for my mother-in-law in the afternoon, then Sam will stay around for an extra week to eat omelets at Norm’s and horse around with his favorite friends and relatives. This sounds like a terrific plan for Sam because he needs a break, but in MY case I’ve been trying to put together a list of fun projects and excursions in his absence and can’t think of anything I want to do without him except buy olives at Central Market (see below) and get a haircut.

But no matter what I finally decide to do during my eight days of “alone time,” at least Dallas is expecting gorgeous weather in which to do it ... such as temperatures in the low 70s with no snow, ice or anything that resembles winter in any way whatsoever. Glorioski!

And now, the North Korean edition of “Family Feud.” Earlier today Kim Jong Il’s eldest son, the doofus playboy Kim Jong Nam (see below, right), predicted that North Korea’s regime will “not last long” under the new rule of his half brother, handsome 27-year-old Kim Jong Un. In an email to a Japanese reporter he described the country’s family dynasty as “a joke to the outside world.”

Kim Jong Nam, who lives in China, is 40 years old, hangs out in casinos and enjoys a jet-set lifestyle. He apparently fell out of favor with his late father after being caught trying to enter Japan on a fake passport in 2001 so he could visit Disney’s Tokyo resort. Millions of North Koreans have starved to death since the late 1990s, a fact that obviously makes no difference to the well-fed pair of little weirdos pictured above.

I think I’ll order something wonderful from China City now and wait for tonight’s episodes of two of my favorite reality shows ... “Tabatha Takes Over” on Bravo and “Hardcore Pawn” on TruTV.

If you’re not watching these programs you definitely need to give them a shot. I’ve mentioned “Hardcore Pawn” in previous posts (click here) so I probably shouldn’t have to provide another overview. As for Tabatha, she’s a bitchy, business-savvy Australian hairdresser who transforms decrepit beauty salons. This season she’s expanding her show to include decrepit yogurt shops, decrepit pet kennels, decrepit gay bars and so on. I can hardly wait and thank you for reading this.

Losers in the news and why you shouldn’t eat Underwood Deviled Ham.

This will probably be a post about lots of nothing special. I’ve got a list of potential topics and a few images to share, but my motivation will depend on what time I start to poop out and if Sam is coming home before sunrise or not. There’s really no way to know about Sam, because he’s got a huge hoo-hah project going on at the office and I haven’t heard from him since he pulled out of the garage at 3:15 yesterday afternoon. Let’s hold a good thought, okay?

Today’s pet peeve? Just because news websites aren’t bound by the same space limitations as print publications doesn’t mean we’re willing to read PILES OF MEANINGLESS CRAP. In addition to Todd Palin’s earth-shaking endorsement of Newt Gingrich and Chaz Bono’s upcoming trip to Belgrade to buy himself a shmeckle, I refer to the following “news stories” I found during the last 24 hours:

• Obscure former actress Kristy McNichol has “come out” as a lesbian to help teens who are bullied for their sexual orientation. Since Kristy hasn’t appeared on TV since 1995 there’s not a teen on earth who even knows who she is ... so what’s the point?
• Despicable Casey Anthony releases a video to show off her new blonde hair, glasses and nose rings.
• A 21-year-old Iranian man wound up with a permanent erection after having “good luck with your journeys” and the letter “M” (his girlfriend’s initial) tattooed on his penis.
• Desperate D-list celebrity and “Dancing with the Stars” flop Kate Gosselin will hostess a party on a Royal Caribbean cruise and sell autographs to her fans. Kate Gosselin has fans?

I couldn’t find a photo of the stupid Iranian dude’s penis. (Sorry.)

In breaking news, the Wall Street Journal reports that Hostess, beloved Texas-based maker of popular polyester lunchbox snacks, is filing for chapter 11 bankruptcy because they owe their vendors more than $50 million. It’s too soon to know whether or not Twinkies and Ding-Dongs will emerge unscathed so the Howdygram recommends stockpiling your favorites TODAY.

And finally, does anybody remember Mason Reese, that funny little kid back in the mid-1970s who did all those cute TV commercials for Dunkin’ Donuts, Raisin Bran and Underwood Deviled Ham? Here’s a photo of Mason today for your possible interest and amusement ... living proof that nobody should ever eat deviled ham under any circumstances.

It’s almost 1 a.m. and I still haven’t heard from Sam, so maybe I’ll mosey into the family room and watch last night’s episode of “Hardcore Pawn.” If you’ve never seen this program I highly recommend it. It’s about a Jewish family’s gigantic pawn shop in Detroit’s inner-city area, and the customers that come and go are a collection of loudmouths, lunatics and homicidal maniacs you really don’t want to miss. This is TV at its finest and even Sam is starting to enjoy it. My favorite part is when security has to throw out one of the aforementioned homicidal maniacs. (This happens a lot.)

My very best regards to your family. Thank you for reading this.

Lose the itchy mop dress. Seriously.

I almost forgot to remind everybody about “Project Runway All Stars” on Lifetime. Tune in every Thursday night at 8 p.m. Central time to watch all your least-favorite whiny losers from eight previous seasons. I’m not sure I’ll have the stomach for this, but after surviving 12 weeks of “Work of Art” I guess I can put up with damn near anything.

Here, for your possible interest, are two of the runway fashions from last week’s episode. Mila designed an outfit from plastic-covered lawn chair fabric and phone cords; April’s dress was a macramé monstrosity made of floor mops. They’re both frightening — would you want gigantic train tracks running around your thighs? — but the mop fringe makes me itch and the model on the right looks like she’s ready to bludgeon somebody.

I suppose that’s it for now. It’s raining, I’m tired, my feet are cold and Sam has been asleep since midnight. Thank you for reading this and I’m heading off to bed.

The future of art in America.

I did it. I don’t know why I did it, but I did it nonetheless. Last night I gave up an entire hour of my life watching the grand finale of Bravo TV’s “Work of Art,” a frightening reality show competition that’s based on the age-old premise “shit sells.” The final three contestants appear below.

And now I’d like to post a representation of the finale’s artwork (a term I use loosely here) to demonstrate how lame, pretentious and infantile this program actually is. The lack of talent displayed here makes “Dancing with the Stars” look like the Joffrey Ballet.

Young strung clotheslines across the gallery and pinned up a collection of his late father’s shirts festooned with snapshots of dad while he was dying. On the floor, bottom right, is a little pile of dirt with a bowling trophy in the middle. For sculptural appeal he also built a red and green phone booth.

Sara’s show consisted of a white birdcage with a lot of paper airplanes flying out and underwear made of human hair.

Kymia — who actually won last night — displayed three crap-filled graves and a helmet made of metal feathers. She also showed two watercolors with dirt glued to them. The one on the left is a dead body in the ground and the one on the right is a boat with feet on the sail. The judges were so ecstatic they wet their pants and Kymia went home with $100,000 and a guaranteed private show at the Brooklyn Museum. I had such a headache I took two extra-strength Tylenol.

There you have it ... the future of art in America. Graves, clotheslines, paper airplanes and bowling trophies. God help us.

Happy to be alive in Howdygramland.

Gemfibrozil Update. I haven’t taken a dose since last night at dinner, and I’m feeling so much better today it’s actually scary. I can breathe without gasping, I can walk around the house again and I didn’t need a two-hour afternoon nap. As a matter of fact, I’ve been finishing projects all day and even reorganized our junk drawer in the master bath with the new bamboo organizer I ordered from Amazon.com. A photo of our spiffy redesigned drawer is posted here for your possible interest. The difference is positively amazing, and I can finally reach in and grab something without getting stabbed to death by my cuticle scissors.

Incidentally, I sincerely regret that Gemfibrozil didn’t work out for me. I looked at a bunch of user reviews online and damn near everybody swears it’s a miracle drug for reducing cholesterol and triglycerides. In my case, however, it’s a miracle that Gemfibrozil didn’t KILL me. Not breathing is an unacceptable and genuinely crappy side effect.

Snack Update. I received an order today from Sugarless DeLite, and I’d like to make the following public declaration:  GOD BLESS LA NOUBA SUGAR-FREE CHOCOLATE-COVERED MARSHMALLOWS. Seriously, these things are 100% scrumptious and even better than Russell Stover’s Sugar-Free Chocolate Marshmallow Santas! A photo appears below. Please don’t come over and expect a free sample, however, because they’re all mine.

Amazon Update. My brilliant subscription purchases today included Ziploc gallon-size freezer bags and Cascade Complete dishwasher doohickies, as pictured below. You really need to try subscribing for products you use all the time. Click here to find out more and tell them Marcy sent you. (Okay, maybe you should skip that last part.)

Ready for Hanukkah? Just in time for the Festival of Lights … don’t miss these novelty mezuzahs for wacky little relatives featuring Spongebob Squarepants and — no kidding — Shrek. Apparently 21st century Jewish children should be taught to include animated scrubbing utensils and farting ogres as elements of their faith. A real bargain at $12.95 from Judaica Mall.

It’s time for dinner, a couple of “People’s Court” reruns and this week’s episode of “Hardcore Pawn.” Life is great in Howdygramland. Thanks a million for reading this.

Kardashian krap ... in kase you kare.

For those of you ready to hurl at the mere sound of Kim Kardashian’s name, here’s a klassic Kardashian family spoof kourtesy of “Saturday Night Live” that will definitely make your day … because it sure made MINE.



Thanks for stopping by.

Musings from a Sam-less halva addict.

Poor Sam has worked a ginormous number of hours this week. Three nights in a row he got home at almost 4 a.m. and tonight won’t be much different, although he just called to tell me he THINKS he might be able to sneak out around 3. I’ve been spending a lot of time alone.

This means I’m currently unsupervised here with THREE HUGE CONTAINERS OF SUGAR-FREE MARBLE HALVA that arrived today in a carton from Amazon.com. Unfortunately, although it contains zero sugar it’s definitely NOT low-calorie or low-fat … and I just realized that I want to eat every glorious molecule of it TONIGHT. The situation is so serious I might have to call a halva hotline for emotional support. I tried hiding my paring knife, but that didn’t work because I keep remembering where I hid it. Also I have lots of other knives. And if I can’t find a knife I’ll just rip off little chunks with my teeth or bare hands like a cannibal.

Something peculiar happened last night during Bravo TV’s “Work of Art” … I found myself becoming slightly less repulsed by Sucklord. The artists/contestants had to work on a project with a group of children in an art program sponsored by the New York City public schools, and Sucklord ALMOST behaved like a rational person. His finished piece of artwork, however, was so atrocious that judge Jerry Saltz practically threatened to kill him. Okay, maybe that’s not quite accurate. Jerry actually said, “If you don’t stop with all the weird Star Wars crap I’m going to get medieval.” (I wonder if this includes torture.)

Sucklord is a strange, counter-culture geek who has a website with an online store that sells bizarre products under the “Suckadelic” brand name, two of which appear below. I have no idea how any of this can be considered ART or how Sucklord ever displayed enough talent at any level to qualify as a contestant.

Incidentally, the Super Suckmobile with Pimpin’ Jake is TEENY. Jake is about the size of a Playskool Weeble. (You should buy two. They’re only $125 each.)

Thank you for reading this.