Immersed in my favorite activity whenever I’m wide awake in the middle of the night.

In this post: Sucking TicTacs, studying Royals, breaking records.

It’s 6:30 in the morning and I’ve been awake since 4. Aside from sucking TicTacs and playing video poker, I am immersed in my favorite activity whenever I’m wide awake in the middle of the night ... visiting the royal family’s official website at www.royal.gov.uk. There are lots of lovely photos of rich people doing things, such as this image of the Queen signing a royal message to stuff into The Queen’s Baton (picture a fancy bedazzled suppository) that will travel all around Britain in a carriage before arriving in Glasgow for the Commonwealth Games. Fun fact ... the Queen has worn her hair like this since 1960.

Great Britain, where 14th century Halloween costumes are a way of life.

Sometimes it’s hard to write a Howdygram post. Like today, for instance. I’m not feeling funny or creative and I’m more than a little under the weather — i.e., my right knee hurts, I’ve got chills and I think I’m developing a bladder infection. That being said, however, I do have some newsworthy crap to discuss with you, which I’ll tackle in three parts.

NEWSWORTHY CRAP, PART ONE. First up, an overdressed volunteer loudmouth showed up in front of St. Mary’s Hospital in London a couple of days ago to announce the royal birth at the top of his lungs. Tony Appleton, a town crier from the village of Romford, apparently was photographed and interviewed by American journalists who figured he was an official representative from Buckingham Palace. Although I’m sure the Brits are having a good laugh about this, it’s an easy mistake to make in a country where 14th century Halloween costumes are a way of life. I’m just saying.

NEWSWORTHY CRAP, PART TWO. Last month Sheriff Joe Arpaio, law enforcement’s racist right-wing poster boy from the great state of Arizona, sent a deputy to New York to track down a homicidal maniac named David Lee Simpson, who came to Arpaio’s attention during the Jody Arias trial for tweeting that he wanted to tie CNN’s Nancy Grace to a tree and slit her throat. Frankly, I’m not sure why there was a problem with this since most of America would probably get behind Simpson’s plan.

Simpson was eventually apprehended, however, and a search of his car turned up at least two guns as well as “ammunition, handcuffs, zip-ties, binoculars, a knife and a police radio.” This may be the first time Joe Arpaio has ever been featured in an article and not been the worst person in it.

NEWSWORTHY CRAP, PART THREE. In case you’re wondering what George Zimmerman’s been doing since getting away with the murder of Trayvon Martin, he’s still lurking at intersections in his beloved community of Sanford, Florida, and still trying to play super-hero. This time Zimmerman and another man pulled Mark and Dana Gerstle and their two children unharmed out of their blue SUV following an accident near the spot where Zimmerman shot and killed Martin. Mark O’Mara, Zimmerman’s lawyer, immediately decided to host a big press conference to congratulate “the quintessential George” but was forced to call it off after the Gerstles backed out. “The family does not want to be associated with George,” O’Mara told reporters, and after thanking Zimmerman for his help the Gerstles declined to make any public statement. I love this story a lot, people. A photo of creepy George and his creepy lawyer appear below. They should go split a large pizza or something.

It’s a few minutes past 6 and I’m contemplating dinner. Although there are are a million tasty possibilities, at the moment I think I’m leaning towards my favorite low-carb CarbQuik biscuits, a couple of nice scrambled eggs and a glass of chocolate Soy Slender soy milk.

If I feel better after dinner — go back and check out the first paragraph, plus I just discovered I’m running a fever — I’ll try to finish the last two loads of laundry, but I’m not promising anything. Right now all I want is food and a blanket. Thank you.

Gary Player, naked.

It’s 4:30 a.m. and I’ve got two important things to share in the middle of the night. First, a royal heir is about to spring forth from the gilded uterus of the Duchess of Cambridge, and second, I totally forgot to include the following gem in last night’s Howdygram post after the paragraph about golf. This is a photo of legendary golfer Gary Player posing naked for ESPN.

I should also mention that I’m not feeling well again. Actually, still. It’s that low body temperature horseshit (a form of diabetic neuropathy), with symptoms that feel like you’re running a high fever with body aches, joint pain, chills and an overwhelming craving for lemon jello and a new box of crayons. And if hypothermia isn’t bad enough, I’ve developed yet another neuropathy symptom: a constant and immediate urge to pee. (Even though Sam will probably freak out when he reads this paragraph, it should be common knowledge by now that TMI is the hallmark of every responsible blogger. Deal with it.) Therefore, I wake up three or four times every night for mostly-unproductive trips to the bathroom, and during the day I can barely get down the hall fast enough ... and that’s NOT an easy thing to do with a cane when you’re already shlepping like Quasimoto from the pain of plantar fasciitis and arthritic knees. Sometimes, when I’m really feeling miserable, like this morning, I start crying en route, which technically makes it even WORSE. If that’s possible. Holy crap, right?

In case you were wondering about those new orthopedic shoes for diabetics that I just bought from FootSmart ... they came a couple of days ago and feel like PUFFY FLUFFY CLOUDS! I’ve had very large, very sensitive, hard-to-fit feet my entire life, and these are the first shoes I’ve ever owned that didn’t start out feeling like crap.

They’re very deep, very soft and very padded, and right now this creaky old kvetch is a very happy senior citizen. I should make an effort to leave the house once in a while so I can try them out in public. Maybe today if Sam’s interested. Stay tuned.

This kind of crap gives me hives.

The voice of reason prevailed this morning. Sam successfully convinced me that I don’t deserve a $7.99 haircut from a salon that’s probably run by high school students on work release. I’m sure he’s right. Except now I’m stuck with all these valuable coupons! Feel free to clip as many as you want, but you’ll have to fly to Texas to use them. (Depending on the cost of airfare this might not be such good deal after all.)

Don’t look now, but illiterates walk among us. They’re everywhere. If you don’t believe me, try to pay closer attention to everything you read online. The following photo was part of a slideshow this morning on NBCNews.com, and this was the caption below it: “Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, walk hand in hand from Buckingham Palace the day after their wedding to a waiting helicopter.”

For the record, this kind of crap gives me hives. Show of hands ... does anybody besides me see the problem here? THE DUKE AND DUCHESS WERE NOT MARRIED TO “A WAITING HELICOPTER.” It’s dangerously similar to a convoluted phrase like “throw me over the fence a shovel” and provides ample proof that news websites need to hire a few trained editors. The caption should read: “The day after their wedding, Prince William, Duke of Cambridge, and Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, walk hand in hand from Buckingham Palace to a waiting helicopter.”

Hey, Einsteins ... CAPTIONS ARE JOURNALISM, TOO!

Thank you for letting me unload. It’s time for lunch now.

No longer news: Kate Middleton’s royal titties.

In case you haven’t noticed, nobody’s talking about Kate Middleton’s royal titties any more since they really weren’t that exciting from the get-go and nobody cares about them except her, anyway. And possibly the Queen. Thank you.

And now, dear readers, it’s time for another installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, featuring scary pictures of celebrities past and present.

While I have to admit that former French sex kitten Brigitte Bardot has NOT aged gracefully and Mark Hamill looks a lot like our mechanic at Pep Boys, I’d personally rather see a familiar face with wrinkles than a severely-remodeled version I wouldn’t recognize in a million years, such as Barry Manilow, with no lips, foam rubber cheek implants and a face like a Cabbage Patch doll, and Marie Osmond, an over-rouged Vegas drag queen who should consider suing whoever does her hair and makeup. The poor thing looks like a 60-year-old man who’s trying to look like Marie Osmond.

I’d better withdraw my claws now so I can continue typing.

I ordered another load of crapola this morning from Netrition.com, my favorite source for fabulous and surprisingly cheap low-carb products. Today’s treasures included Dixie Diner Low-Carb Instant Mashers, Low-Carb Pound Cake Mix and Low-Carb Muffin Mixes (Corn, Blueberry and Chocolate Chocolate Chip), two bottles of Guy’s Award-Winning Sugar-Free BBQ Sauce (original and spicy) and one bottle of DaVinci’s Sugar-Free Unflavored Sweetener Syrup to make everything I eat and bake taste like it’s exploding with sugar. Welcome to Diabetesland!

Tonight’s my night to fuss around in the kitchen so Sam can eat things when he gets home from work. I’ll be baking a loaf of caraway rye in my bread machine and a pan of Pillsbury Sugar-Free Fudge Brownies. (They’re so good you’d never guess there’s no sugar.)

Incidentally, tonight is also the big finale of “Top Chef Masters” on Bravo, where you get to watch very talented people preparing food for a panel of annoying judges. At the top of this list is Annoying Judge James Oseland (see right), editor of “Saveur” magazine, who constantly makes his sexual orientation a little too obvious for a show that’s supposed to be about cooking.

Thank you for reading this. All of a sudden I have a craving for tuna salad.

I wonder if I can boost my Google ranking by typing “royal titties” in really big letters.

We didn’t make it to the Choctaw Casino today after all. I’m not noticeably hysterical and/or despondent since Sam promised we’d get there next weekend instead and — glorioski! let’s eat! — we’re going out for an early dinner around 4:30. At this point we still have no clear idea where that will be, however, and high-level negotiations are currently in progress. So far the other side (i.e., Sam) has expressed zero interest in buffets or anything that’s located downtown. I’m leaning towards Thai food in Addison. Stay tuned for additional developments. In the meantime, you have approximately one hour to email your suggestions. Thank you.

Last night’s Howdygram post — titled “A pair of very royal titties in the news” — is apparently making a big fat splash in cyberspace. So far we’re receiving top-tier results on Google for the search phrase “royal titties,” attracting a huge list of new visitors from Great Britain, New Zealand, the Netherlands, India, Guam, Germany, various cities in Canada and locations throughout the United States. I wonder if I can boost my Google ranking by typing “royal titties” in really big letters. Let’s give it a shot, shall we?

royal titties

Thank you for reading this. Tell your friends, okay?

A pair of very royal titties in the news.

Yo, everybody! It’s been a dark and dismal non-rainy day here in Howdygramland. I’ve managed to fill my time with a lot of nothing and didn’t even get an afternoon nap. So far my only productive activities have included watching “People’s Court” and half a Dick Powell movie, baking low-carb banana bread and taking pills. It’s a full life.

Because we always have such a good time doing goofy crap together, there’s a very strong possibility that Sam and I might be heading back to Oklahoma tomorrow for lunch at the Choctaw Casino (with sugar-free pie!) and another stab at the penny slots. This is thrilling on a number of different levels, such as: 1) it’s an older crowd and practically everybody has a cane except Sam; 2) we get 50% off the lunch buffet with our Player’s Club cards; and 3) they have Coke Zero in their free soda machines. Now I ask you, does it ever get better than that?

From our Holy Crap, Not Again department, just three weeks after Prince Harry scandalized the world by partying naked in Las Vegas with intoxicated people he didn’t know, a pair of very royal titties are making news today, splashed across the front page of the French gossip magazine “Closer.” Buckingham Palace confirms that the Duchess of Cambridge was photographed topless on a private patio at a private rented residence in France by a jerk on a highway with a telephoto lens. The royal family intends to sue.

Just a thought, but it might be a really good idea for younger members of the royal family to discontinue all manner of naked frolicking unless they’re AT HOME IN A LOCKED ROOM. I’ve lived almost 61 years and relatively few people have ever seen (or wanted to see) my titties. I’m just saying.

Thank you for reading this.

Please help me vote these medieval right-wing uterus gods out of office.

While I wait for Sam to get home from Tom Thumb with American cheese and a million cans of seltzer I thought I’d write a quick post about Rick Perry, the dimwit governor of Texas, who’s so obsessed in his fight against abortion that he cut off all state funding for Planned Parenthood. Governor Einstein insists that Texas is entitled to exclude groups “affiliated with abortion providers” from its federally-subsidized Women’s Health Program.

According to the Planned Parenthood Action Fund, the issue here in Texas isn’t really about Planned Parenthood at all ... it’s about the state’s desire to deny critical health services to more than 200,000 women who rely on Planned Parenthood for cancer screenings, birth control and medical exams. A lawsuit by Planned Parenthood is pending; now it’s up to women nationwide to vote these medieval right-wing uterus gods out of office. (This entire conversation makes me want to hurl.) Thank you.

Out of curiosity, did any of you lucky people get to see naked pictures of Prince Harry this morning? Apparently they’re all over the Internet after TMZ posted them online. Harry was partying with other naked nitwits in Las Vegas and wasn’t bright (or sober) enough to make sure somebody confiscated cell phones first. Buckingham Palace is confirming the photos are genuine, and as I write this post Harry (pictured here fully dressed) is on his way home for a chat with grandma. Holy royal crap.

Breaking news! I found out yesterday that all of Mesquite (including Howdygram headquarters) is scheduled for aerial spraying tonight to eradicate the West Nile virus, which is a major public health emergency with more than 400 confirmed cases and 16 deaths in the Dallas area. A few days ago the county health department shpritzed only a teeny section of Mesquite located north of Interstate 30; the rest of us get it tonight around 10 p.m. I might order dinner from China City to celebrate because Mongolian chicken is the answer to damn near EVERYTHING.

Thank y’all for reading this.

Things I want but know I’ll never have.

As I sit here trying to decide what I want for dinner I’m thinking why not kill a couple of birds with a rock and also write a Howdygram post. So here I am, throwing rocks. My first order of business is a short list of things I want but know I’ll never have, a fantasy that frequently comes to mind now that I’m a senior citizen with false teeth and a cane.

1. A teeny helicopter.
2. A gated driveway.
3. A SodaStream machine with accessories.
4. A moat.
5. A whole Sara Lee cherry cheesecake with a quart of milk and a spoon.
6. Servants in uniforms.
7. Size 7½ feet.
8. My own cactus pear ranch.

This list doesn’t depress me, however, because I can always fill the emptiness with “Hardcore Pawn” reruns — easily the best show on television — and my adorable, attentive and entertaining husband, Sam. Also Mongolian chicken. Not necessarily in that order.

Yesterday I watched a couple of PBS specials about Britain’s monarchy that taught me a number of exciting new facts about the Windsors, two of which I’ll share with you here.

To begin, this week marks Britain’s annual “swan census” — correctly known as swan upping — during which several crews of silly dudes with fancy outfits and royal canoes patrol the entire length of the River Thames to count swans, which all belong to the Queen, because God forbid a swan should go missing. The chief silly dude is David Barber, Royal Swan Marker. I wonder if he uses a Sharpie.

I also learned that the Yeoman Warders — sometimes called “Beefeaters” — are the Queen’s ceremonial bodyguards at the Tower of London. The key word here is “ceremonial,” since most of these dudes are overweight retirees too old to tie their own shoes. Historically their primary function has been to keep an eye on the crown jewels and look after prisoners, although the latter have been in short supply since 1799. There’s also a Yeoman Warder Ravenmaster whose full-time job is to babysit six ravens. According to legend, if the ravens ever escape the Tower and monarchy will crumble. Even though this is obviously horseshit, the Queen feels justified to pay all of these doofuses a generous annual salary and dress them up like a bunch of cartoon characters. Their positions and uniforms date back to 1485.

The most sought-after career in Britain has to be milliner. Learn how to make hats and you’re set for life. Holy crap.

And now I think I’ll take a hot shower and watch a few of the aforementioned “Hardcore Pawn” reruns. A new episode is airing as I write this post but Sam and I will watch it together when he gets home from work along with this week’s episode of “Deadliest Catch.” Thank you for reading this.

Yesterday.

Sunday was awesome. It was so awesome, in fact, that I didn’t even have the time or inclination to write a post about it until now. Since I’m positive you won’t be able to continue with your day until I’ve shared the minutiae, grab yourself a lemonade and here goes.

My wonderful Sunday included ...

iPad App Acquisitions. I spent a little time horsing around on the iPad App Store and downloaded the following: 1) the Internet Movie Database; 2) TripAdvisor; 3) MyRadar weather maps and forecasts; and 4) an essential little doohickey called Where to Eat that — go on, take a guess — locates restaurants so I won’t have to be without Mongolian chicken anywhere in the United States. Ever. I’m also hoping to find a GPS locator app called Gefilte Fish Finder, so if you run across anything that fits this description please let me know as soon as possible. Thank you.

Memorable Television Programming. I enjoyed six hours of nonstop Diamond Jubilee horseshit on BBC America, including the entire Thames River pagaent and a special one-hour documentary about the life of Queen Elizabeth. Pictured below are the Queen and Prince Philip with the cast of “H.M.S. Pinafore” (just kidding) in a motorboat heading to the Spirit of Chartwell barge — check out that dude on the right with the skirt and red tights — and another shot of all the essential royals squished under a screwy gold canopy because it was pouring rain and God forbid any hats should get wet.

And I’ll also include a photo of the flotilla on the Thames (see below), led by a several hundred nitwits in costume rowing their own boats. The big one out in front is the Gloriana, powered by galley slaves like Ben Hur.

I also watched Tiger Woods win the Memorial yesterday at the Muirfield Village Golf Club in Ohio, tying Jack Nicklaus’ 73 lifetime PGA tournament wins. This was a very big hoo-hah  because Tiger’s game has been mostly crappy for the last couple of years. Jack was on hand to present the tournament’s trophy, which apparently was laser-engraved with a Hoover upright vacuum cleaner. (Is it just me, or is Jack shrinking?)

Last night also included: 1) the most amazing episode of AMC’s “Mad Men” I’ve ever seen, even better than the one two weeks ago when Joan agreed to sleep with a sleazy client to land the Jaguar account for Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce; 2) the “Real Housewives of New Jersey” flying to Chicago for a gay wedding in Barrington (seriously); and 3) “Veep” on HBO starring Julia Louis-Dreyfus. The official trailer for “Veep” appears below for your possible interest. (If you like it you’d better watch next Sunday because it’s the last episode of the season.)



A Charming Late Afternoon Drive. After Tiger won his trophy Sam and I jumped into the car for a lovely Sunday drive that included (see visual aid below): A) downtown Dallas and dinner at Pei Wei; B) the entire length of Harry Hines Boulevard heading northwest to Bachman Lake; and 3) back to Howdygram headquarters in Mesquite via Northwest Highway. En route we sang several of Sam & Marcy’s greatest hits and played Who Would You Rather See Naked.

It’s lunch time at last. Thank you for reading this!

Queen Elizabeth celebrates 60 years in a royal “babushka.”

Before I get sidetracked by topics of lesser importance, the Howdygram would like to remind everybody that Queen Elizabeth’s Diamond Jubilee — celebrating 60 year on the throne — is a four-day event that begins later today with royals in stupid hats attending the Epsom Derby, which is a horse race with snooty snacks. I don’t believe the race will be televised in the U.S.

On Sunday, however, BBC America’s TV coverage starts at 7 a.m. Central time and includes a flotilla of 1,000 boats on the Thames River clunking into each other from Putney to Tower Bridge. The Queen and assorted royals will ride the Spirit of Chartwell luxury cruiser, where they’ll dine on caviar, scrambled gems and serf kabobs.

On Monday there’s a huge Jubilee concert in front of Buckingham Palace that we apparently don’t get to see, and on Tuesday — the biggest hoo-hah of them all — BBC America and CNN will cover exclusive church services at St. Paul’s Cathedral, another fancy lunch, and then the Queen’s massive procession in a 24-karat gold coach back to the palace along with military bands, royal guards in Prada uniforms and 250,000 horses that are not allowed to poop. (I might be kidding about some of this.) BBC’s TV coverage begins at 3:15 a.m. Central time and CNN’s begins at 6:45. My favorite photo of Queen Elizabeth appears below.

In breaking news, researchers of The International Group for Historic Aircraft Recovery have pieced together little glass fragments found on Nikumaroro Island in the Pacific and believe it was a jar of C. H. Berry’s Freckle Cream that once belonged to aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart, who vanished during a round-the-world flight 75 years ago.

Analysis of the aforementioned freckle cream will be discussed this weekend at a three-day symposium in Arlington, Virginia, at which time I sincerely hope somebody tells these people to get a life and move on already.

And finally, here are some vintage photos of Skokie, Illinois — my home town — for your possible interest. All were taken in the late 1950s or early 1960s. When my family moved to Skokie from the north side of Chicago in 1956 these little stores and restaurants were already 50 (or more) years old. I don’t think I ever realized until now that I actually grew up in a town that looked like Mayberry.

In case you’re wondering, we had a productive and informative appointment with a genius at the Apple Store on Thursday and learned all about our new iPad. Sometime next month I’ll be upgrading the system software on our Macs so I can “synch” my contact list, email accounts and calendar. This is both exciting and slightly scary. (Mostly exciting.) A photo of our Apple Store appears below. I want to go back when Sam’s not looking and buy everything. Holy crap.

Thank you for reading this.

The South shall rise again. No kidding.

It’s early Sunday morning and I woke up an hour ago with a stuffed nose and a craving for TicTacs. While I’m blowing one and feeding the other I thought I’d write a post because Sam and I did a few amazing things on Saturday.

First, we ate Senior Scrambled Eggs for lunch at a BRAND NEW DENNY’S (new to us, anyway) on I-20 during a lovely drive to Fort Worth. I don’t remember our waitress’ name but she was extremely energetic. (I think I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be 18 years old.) Afterwards we continued heading west and discovered the Texas Civil War Museum, a hidden gem in a town called White Settlement — I’m not making this up — about 10 miles past Fort Worth.

This is a TRULY COOL MUSEUM, and it gave us an opportunity to test my new wheelchair while checking out their exhibits of uniforms — mostly Confederate, of course — plus high tech “medical” instruments (hacksaws, pliers and butcher knives), antique photos, shredded flags, cannon shells, guns and a lot of Civil War-era ball gowns worthy of Gone with the Wind. They also had LIVE MUSIC yesterday featuring Buttermilk Junction, an excellent group of costumed and adorable local yahoos who use authentic 19th century instruments and sing authentic 19th century songs, such as “Dixie” and “Shenandoah.”

I’m pleased to include the following Buttermilk Junction video from YouTube. They’re playing a tune called “The Colored Aristocracy.”



The map below indicates: A) The Texas Civil War Museum; and B) Denny’s with the energetic waitress.

From our Tea and Crumpets department, if you’re a big fan of the British royals like yours truly I think you should try your skill at a fun match-up game that’s posted on ABC’s news website. I played and won three times — perfect scores! — which obviously makes me a nerd of astonishing proportion. (I’m actually fine with this.)

I have to go back to bed now. I’m out of TicTacs.

No way, pal. I refuse to shlep myself up your freight ramp into the kitchen.

I know I promised to write a review for Cole Mountain Restaurant today (see previous post) but I can’t because we never actually ate there. And it’s not because we didn’t try. The parking lot was filled with the intoxicating smell of a mesquite wood smoker but as soon as we opened the front door we were faced with a FULL FLIGHT OF STAIRS ... not exactly a friendly way to greet handicapped seniors like yours truly who walk with a cane! Sam went inside to find out if they had another entrance I could use but I decided to decline the opportunity to shlep myself up a freight ramp into the kitchen. We eventually wound up at El Nogalito, our favorite little Tex-Mex joint a few blocks away. They have nice waiters and their guacamole is almost as good as mine.

The map below indicates: A) El Nogalito Restaurant in Terrell, Texas; and B) Cole Mountain Restaurant with the crappy staircase a few blocks away.

For your possible interest I just bought a few more wonderful soup mixes from Soups Online, which is my new favorite website after Amazon and Wal-Mart.

And now for something truly unique on a Thursday night, here’s the weather in Scotland as delivered by Prince Charles.

I’d better figure out a quick late dinner because all of a sudden I’m starving. Gefilte fish, baloney and/or leftover Chinese food immediately come to mind. Drop me a note if you’d like me to save some for you, okay? Thank you for reading this.

You cannot send your husband to visit his mother without a suitcase full of exceptionally white socks.

Eureka, holy crap and glorioski! Thanks to a brilliant suggestion by my brilliant husband Sam, I just Googled and found something I’ve been searching for since the mid-1980s. It’s Mad Magazine’s centerfold lampoon of a Chinese restaurant menu — one of the most hilarious parodies I’ve ever read — and I’m pleased to include it here for your Wednesday entertainment. Click the image (below) to expand to full size. Please read the entire menu. If you’re not wiping your eyes halfway through the first column there’s something seriously wrong with you.

For the record, my favorite menu items are Baby Corn with Adoption Papers, Happy Bacteria Cup and Boneless Pudding. How about you?

Speaking of brilliant Sam, he’s leaving on Saturday for seven days in California to visit relatives and friends. In his absence I plan to fill my days and nights with old movies, baloney tacos* and a plethora of Howdygram posts on every subject imaginable. (Plus a few subjects you probably can’t imagine.) In the meantime I’m finishing up a ton of laundry because you cannot send your husband to visit his mother without a suitcase full of exceptionally white socks.

*I’m also planning a gefilte fish festival. Please send an email to reserve your spot!

And now for the latest news from Great Britian — the world’s leading authority on preposterous rituals — where Queen Elizabeth II, pictured at right, delivered a dull but beautifully-pronounced speech to Parliament today from the House of Lords outlining the nation’s economic plans for the year ahead. Ceremonial details include: 1) the Queen’s crown travels from the palace to Parliament in a separate coach; 2) because the Queen isn’t allowed to set foot in the House of Commons, her official messenger — known as the “Black Rod” — has to summon them to her speech; 3) according to tradition, the House of Commons slams the door in the dude’s face; 4) the aforementioned dude has to pound on the aforementioned door with a fancy black stick to get everybody’s attention; and 5) they all line up behind him to parade over to the House of Lords. I’m not exactly sure if clowns or musical instruments are involved.

Apparently this is all MANDATORY. The fancy black stick ritual dates back to 1361 and the first “Black Rod” was named Walter Whitehorse. Seriously, don’t you just LOVE the Brits? It’s as if we’d expect the President of the United States to dress up in a George Washington costume for his inaugration, complete with short satin pants and a powdered wig. Try to picture it.

I ordered some swell crap yesterday from my pals at Amazon.com. This time it’s Chicken of the Sea pink salmon — which has more flavor than tuna and is actually a LOT healthier — and six 32-oz. containers of College Inn chicken broth. As a semi-lazy senior citizen it’s a comfort to know I won’t have to shlep those half-ton boxes of broth home from the grocery store because the happy slaves at UPS will deliver them right to my front door. If I look pathetic enough maybe they’ll even load them into the pantry for me. God, I love UPS.

I was getting ready to report great news about my blood sugar numbers but (as usual) I think I jinxed myself. My lunch-time “postprandial” reading — taken two hours after I ate — spiked to 300, twice what it should be, and I have no idea why. Yesterday’s numbers were terrific; today’s SUCK. I’m supposed to contact Dr. M tomorrow to discuss my progress on insulin and I’m sorry to say there’s been almost no progress at all. Stay tuned for the next chapter of Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland.

I guess that’s about it for now because it’s time to retrieve a couple of deliveries that UPS just dropped off. Today’s treasures include Simply Jif peanut butter and Extra-Strength Tylenol from Wal-Mart and hand soap refills from Drugstore.com. However I don’t want to wake Sam, who’s sound asleep in the family room watching The Bishop’s Wife on TCM. Thank you, as always, for reading this.

Rewriting history for a lying, cheating lardball.

Although nobody has actually inquired about this I thought it might be nice to share an update anyway. Remember the posts I wrote on January 27 (read them here and here) about my two smashed toes? One of them hasn’t healed. Even though it doesn’t hurt, the fourth toe on my right foot is misshapen, discolored, blistery and altogether gross. As a diabetic I’m not supposed to hang around waiting for a toe to get better all by itself, so I had to make an appointment to see my podiatrist on Thursday morning. Stay tuned for more information later in the week but please feel free to go about your normal routine in the meantime.

Late-breaking news! Apparently Newt Gingrich’s communications director Joe DeSantis has been caught and criticized by editors of Wikipedia for dozens of unauthorized changes to the candidate’s biographical information … mostly attempting to whitewash his infidelities, his three marriages and all references to the ethics charges brought against him when he was ejected as Speaker of the House. Apparently DeSantis’ efforts continued as recently as last week. Wikipedia has placed Gingrich’s page under protected status to prevent unauthorized users from changing the text.

The Howdygram would like to thank Wikipedia and CNN.com for their exposé, although this is NOT the first time an egomaniacal Einstein like Gingrich, who is also a lying, cheating lardball, has attempted to use Wikipedia to rewrite history. Last year in a speech when Sarah Palin screwed up the facts of Paul Revere’s ride, her staff was caught two days later editing Revere’s Wikipedia page with Palin’s made-up version of the story. Seriously.

Today is Accession Day in Great Britain, a heartwarming holiday commemorating Queen Elizabeth’s 60th year as monarch. That’s definitely a hell of a long time to sit on a throne. The Howdygram says MAZEL TOV but thinks the Queen should try adding some fiber to her diet.

Thank you for reading this.

Pass the TicTacs.

Good morning, boys and girls, and welcome to Howdygramland. I can’t sleep, so I figured why not annoy you with some meaningless middle-of-the-night baloney. In addition to insomnia I’ve also discovered that I’m HUNGRY, but I probably won’t do much about it because I don’t feel like dragging myself into the kitchen. (I’ve got half a box of TicTacs. That’s enough.)

We’ve had quite a week around here. Our new cedar arbor was finished on Thursday and our patio expansion was poured and “stamped” on Friday. The crews worked 12-hour shifts in 105° heat. Seriously, I don’t know how they did it, but EVERYTHING LOOKS AMAZING and Sam is so excited he’s floating on air. The concrete has to cure for a couple of days so I’ll post a few pictures early next week.

And speaking of pictures, here are two for your possible interest. First, I’m pleased to offer this recent shot of Prince Charles and Camilla, cheerfully accepting Britain’s latest austerity measures. The happy couple posed for this official portrait in Buckingham Palace’s remodeled throne room wearing their modern new crowns.

Second, in case you’ve been wondering whatever happened to Richard Simmons, now you know — he’s still creepy and he still won’t admit he’s gay. Sort of like Liberace in gym shorts.

And now, at last, I think I’ll try going back to bed. If I play my cards right I might be able to con Sam into dim sum for lunch today or we can just drive over to Denny’s for an order of Senior Scrambled Eggs. I’m extremely easy. Don’t forget to floss.

An early Saturday assessment.

The clock says 8 a.m. and Sam is outside drinking coffee on the patio, but that’s the only indication I’ve got that it’s really morning around here. The sky is getting darker by the minute, and it’s almost gloomy enough to send me back to bed for a couple of hours. That’s not such a bad idea, actually, because I really don’t have anything else to do until Costco opens at 10. Sam and I are overdue for a Costco adventure.

During the royal wedding yesterday I was dumbfounded when I saw Princess Anne seated in Westminster Abbey. I don’t know if anybody remembers what she looked like as a young woman, but this is one royal who has not aged very well. As a matter of fact, she’s officially number one in the HOLY CRAP category. See for yourself.

At 60 years old Anne doesn’t look half as good as her mother, who’s 85, or her father, who is absolutely amazing at 90.

Incidentally, it’s not just Prince Philip’s LOOKS that amaze me ... it’s also his physical condition. I watched him during the wedding yesterday, standing for all the hymns and walking the entire length of that monstrously enormous church TWICE. He doesn’t even use a cane. I wish I knew his secret, because some days I can’t make it from the kitchen to the bedroom. However, I’m sure I’d feel fabulous, too, if somebody gave me the crown jewels, catered all my meals and chauffeured me around Mesquite in a solid gold coach. I’m just saying.

And now it’s time to get ready for Sam & Marcy’s Trip to Costco. Today’s shopping list includes such essentials as barbecue sauce, lox, Ziploc bags, stuffed mushrooms and an industrial-size box of Efferdent. Thank you for reading this. Seriously.

I did it. Seriously.

I woke myself up at 3:10 in the morning, dragged myself into the family room, turned on the TV and watched four and a half hours — FOUR AND A HALF HOURS! — of nonstop royal wedding coverage on ABC with Diane Sawyer and Barbara Walters. I didn’t even have to pee. It was truly a miracle.

I was on hand to see every invited guest enter Westminster Abbey, including the anticipated Parade of Exceptionally Stupid Hats, which was won hands-down by the royal family’s official Trigger lookalike, Princess Beatrice (see below), the offspring of Prince Andrew and his exiled former spouse, Sarah Ferguson.

I watched the royal family two-by-two in Rolls Royces heading to the church, saw the bride and her father try to squish into a car without destroying her dress, listened to boring hymns by boy sopranos in fruity outfits, enjoyed William and Kate exhanging vows, waited for 1,200 guests to file out and stream back to Buckingham Palace for free food, and then sat like a zombie hoping for the balcony kiss.

Sated, at 7:45 I turned off the TV and crawled straight back to bed. It’s entirely possible that Sam never missed me.

Incidentally, the royal family insists there’s no truth to the rumor that the part of Queen Elizabeth, who has shriveled to a height of 4 feet, was played by an eight-year-old altar boy in drag.

Thank you for reading this.

Reality TV at its finest.

I suppose I should apologize for this, but I’ve been a big fan of Britain’s royal family for almost 50 years. I know their history and lineage, their scandals, crazy titles, wacky hats and the names of all their kids. But for the greatest show on earth, set your alarm clock EARLY on April 29 to watch William and Kate get hitched.

Every network on the planet will televise the royals’ wedding with the possible exception of ESPN and the Knitting Channel. Most coverage begins at 3 a.m. (central time) with a lot of preliminary blabber; substantial events get underway closer to 4.

For the record, I plan to watch ... just as I got up in the middle of the night to see Charles and Diana’s wedding live back in 1981. I was living in Chicago at the time, and my girlfriend Sue from across the hall came over in her robe at 3 a.m. to sit on the floor with me and drink coffee. If for no other reason, tune in to see the HATS. God, I love hats!

In case you’re wondering why I’m up at this hour, I just spent half the night dealing with side effects from the latest addition to my list of prescription meds, Metanx. As it turns out, Metanx is what actually caused Tuesday’s — and tonight’s — “intestinal tsunami” as well as a thoroughly lousy rash that’s driving me out of my mind. I even had to send Sam to the pharmacy in the middle of the night to get me some relief. (This is one of the countless reasons why I love him to pieces.)

In other news, Sam is taking me to the rheumatologist this morning at 9. I have no idea what a rheumatologist might be able to do for me, but pain management is at the top of my short list. In the meantime I think I’ll go back to bed for a couple of hours so I won’t look like a raccoon. Thank you for reading this and don’t forget to enter our BIG SPRING GIVEAWAY.

The big fence adventure continues, day two.

Installation is moving quickly today, for which I’m exceptionally grateful because I had no sleep last night and would like to take a nap as soon as the hammering ends. Here are three images of this morning’s accomplishments.

For those of you wondering why I didn’t sleep last night, this time it was a double whammy: 1) peripheral neuropathy in my left hand, which feels like electric shocks running through my wrist and fingers all night long; and 2) relentless heartburn, which might be the result of a fish dinner from Long John Silver’s or the latest additions to my ever-expanding list of daily medications. I recently began taking Neurpath-B for neuropathy and Niacin for high triglycerides, and I can’t tell yet if they’re interacting with any of the other drugs I take. (Long John Silver’s is still my prime suspect, however.)

And now, for those of you who can’t make it to Will and Kate’s wedding, there’s still time to load up on the following essential souvenirs.

Pictured above are a commemorative refrigerator from GE and a set of limited-edition Pez dispensers that are being auctioned on e-Bay through April 17. If you’re a crafty type, you can also knit your own royal wedding (see below). The instruction book from Ivy Press lets you remember the big day with yarn.

Thank you for reading this and pass the crumpets.