Sumerian albinos, men in skirts and Mole People.

In this post: Low-carb essentials, underground mutants.

You know what’s really exciting? Apparently Howdygram readers are finally using the links on my blog to shop at Netrition.com — the best website on earth for low-carb products — and I’m starting to earn a 20% commission on every initial order! HINT: I only make money if you use the links that appear on the Howdygram. Like this one. You should also check out my page of low-carb product reviews because lots of them link directly to Netrition, too. (Thank you.)

Waiting for UPS is usually the highlight of my day.

In this post: Kvetch report, an Amazon innovation, the Howdygram’s niche.

In case you’re wondering what the hell I did all weekend, the answer is VERY LITTLE with the exception of sleeping, reclining and limping. My plantar fasciitis has flared up again and the only time I’m not in agony is if I’m lying down. I didn’t spend any time in the study writing Howdygram posts because there’s no bed in here. Thank you in advance for understanding.

Eating in bed makes me think of an intensive care unit.

In this post: TV nostalgia, nonsense from AARP.

Glorioski, television fans! A couple of days ago Sam discovered a cable channel we’d never noticed before: it’s the MeTV Network and they’re loaded with classic reruns from the 1950s and 1960s, including all of the gems listed below.

Holy crap. The Professor died.

In this post: A pesty client, Dead Famous People.

So here’s the scoop from Howdygram headquarters! It’s Friday morning, 6 a.m., I’ve been awake since 4:45 and I have zero motivation to work on website updates for an annoying client in Philadelphia who thinks I’m still interested in this kind of crap. Mostly I want to tell her to take a flying leap off Independence Hall and leave me alone — HEY! I’M RETIRED! — but Sam convinced me to do the work and cash her check. (Okay. Fine. Maybe later.)

With enough butter and parmesan cheese a person with diabetes will eat damn near anything.

In this post: A great haircut, a great nap, dinner “pastabilities.”

For all of you wondering how my first-ever haircut “house call” turned out today … it was, in a word, FREAKIN’ FANTASTIC. (Okay, fine. That’s two words.) Noell arrived at 12:30 (on time) and set up her temporary salon in the master bathroom, which is technically so damn big we could comfortably accommodate three stylists at the same time if she wanted to bring a few friends along. I wound up with the perfect Judi Dench haircut that I wanted (see previous post), Noell swept the floor when we finished and was out the door by 1:30, after which I celebrated with an exceptionally long and juicy nap watching Sunset Blvd. (1950) starring William Holden and Gloria Swanson.

Judi Dench has my favorite haircut on the planet.

In this post: A Costco junket, a haircut, celebrity photos.

10:11 A.M. Sam is at Costco as I write this post, loading up on essential crap for the Howdygram kitchen! If he sticks to the list today’s haul will include 1) Brownie Brittle; 2) teeny chicken tacos; 3) breakfast burritos; 4) pistachios; 5) shrimp ceviche; 6) sushi; 7) chicken flautas; 8) a gigantic sack of Clementine tangerines; 9) Orowheat bread; 10) two kinds of pepper jack cheese; 11) a box of frozen Angus burgers; and 12) I think that’s it.

Well-dressed Korean geezers stage a daily sit-in at McDonald’s.

In this post: Subscribe & Save, Korean geezers Occupy McDonald’s.

My maid is cleaning the kitchen as I write this post and I’m hard at work updating our January subscription order from Amazon.com, which is scheduled to ship by the end of the week. In case you give a crap, here’s what’s on our list this month: 1) a six-pack of Beaver Brand Deli Mustard in squeezy bottles; 2) a dozen bags of Planters Fruit & Nut Trail Mix (for Sam); and 3) Hormel Smoked Ham Lumps with tasty chemicals and nitrates. I rescheduled a repeat delivery of Hormel canned tamales to February because I still have eight cans in the pantry even though I’m eating them as fast as I can. (Plus we’re running out of room.)

Two Florida Einsteins in one day.

In this post: Another Einstein, a blast from the past.

Never in a million years did I ever think I’d have two Einstein Awards just a few hours apart, but here we are! Meet William “Einstein” Golladay, a 77-year-old crab-ass Wal-Mart shopper from Florida (holy crap ... Florida again?) who had a screaming fit when the customer in front of him — John Malherbe, age 67, who was handicapped and using an electric shopping cart — tried to check out with 22 items in a 20-item express lane.

Next time somebody in a theater is annoying you, just get up and move your ass to another seat.

In this post: Einstein Award, dinner plans.

The Howdygram hasn’t presented an Einstein Award for a while so this one is definitely long overdue. Our story today is from the Sunshine State — of course — where a grumpy senior citizen named Curtis “Einstein” Reeves, age 71, killed a moviegoer and wounded a bystander with a .38 pistol in a theater in Tampa because the aforementioned moviegoer, Chad Oulson, had been texting during the coming attractions and then threw some popcorn after Reeves complained about him to theater management.

Diabetics have scary feet. We’re not allowed to get blisters.

In this post: Hating Crocs, a red pepper addiction.

Show of hands. Do you wear Crocs? Love them? Hate them? I’ve read lots of pros and cons so I finally decided to try a pair for myself last week when I found out Crocs.com actually sells a style called “CrocsRx” (pictured below; mine were black) priced at $49.95 for people like yours truly with diabetes. Diabetics have scary feet. We’re not allowed to get blisters. My Crocs arrived in a big mylar mailing envelope because they’re made of indestructible plastic that could survive being run over by a Chevy Suburban. Unfortunately, it didn’t take long to figure out that rock-hard inflexible plastic is a repulsive choice of materials if you’re trying to peddle footwear to diabetics. I wore my Crocs for about 90 seconds and shrieked, “HOLY CRAP. GET THESE DAMN THINGS OFF MY FEET!”

If I occasionally sound incoherent you’ll just have to deal with it.

In this post: Another Putz, a worthwhile petition.

Hi, people. It’s 8:45 Monday morning, 52° in north Texas, and I’m having a mild hypoglycemic episode as I write this post. If I occasionally sound incoherent you’ll just have to deal with it. I’m also doing laundry. Thank you.

On being Queen Elizabeth.

In this post: Long live the Queen, feeding Sam.

A couple of days ago I discovered the ultimate luxury … a hair stylist who makes HOUSE CALLS. I’d been searching for one online off and on for quite a while because my frustrating mobility issues — plus the fact that I don’t have my own car any more — have made it almost impossible to get to a beauty salon for something as ordinary as a damn haircut. But then I discovered Hair by Noell, probably the only Caucasian “traveling stylist” in the Dallas metro area who doesn’t specialize in dreadlocks and weaves. She’s coming over on Thursday at 12:30 and I’m so excited I can’t stand it. What a revelation, people! I’m not a helpless senior citizen any more with plantar fasciitis, lousy knees and diabetic neuropathy … I’M QUEEN ELIZABETH WITH A PERSONAL HAIRDRESSER WHO COMES TO THE PALACE. Holy crap, right?

Togetherness and Vienna sausages are essential for a happy marriage.

In this post: Classy seating, date night.

Anybody remember the miserable tale of my new office chair? The one I waited THREE MONTHS for on back order … and then it finally arrived in mid-December CRAPPY AND DEFECTIVE? (See earlier post.) We finally shipped the damn thing back to Brylane Home for a refund, and a couple of hours ago I found a very terrific replacement online that looks like it can’t possibly break no matter what because it doesn’t have any levers, handles, adjustments, lumbar supports, knobs, casters or pneumatic lifts. IT’S JUST A CHAIR. But it’s nice one, really solid, with arms and fluffy cushions.

We’re experiencing a lovely blast of early spring.

In this post: Flu fatalities continue, spring in Dallas, lobstermania.

I’d like to begin this post with a swine flu update, okay? There were SEVEN MORE FATALITIES yesterday in Dallas County, bringing our current total to 26. Nearly all of these are teens and healthy younger adults … NOT infants, senior citizens or people with crappy immune systems, who are usually the high-risk groups. Personally, I really don’t worry about getting swine flu for a couple of very good reasons: 1) I had a flu shot in November; and 2) I never leave the house.

Political suicide and restaurants that can kill you.

In this post: Putz of the Week, death traps, scandal in New Jersey.

Before I leap into my first major topic of importance I thought I’d share tonight’s dinner menu. The food of the gods! I had braunschweiger on low-carb white toast with sugar-free relish, half a container of leftover Jalapeño Shrimp from China City, a couple of Russell Stover sugar-free peanut butter cups and a Marcytini. I briefly considered a can of Vienna sausages between the first and second courses but decided not to press my luck. I know you understand.

It’s a Howdygram weekend film festival.

In this post: Favorite movies, a swine flu epidemic.

I’m so damn excited I almost can’t stand it! I just programmed our DVR to record the following list of outstanding movies this weekend.

I need a large volume of Russell Stover sugar-free chocolate.

In this post: Needle deals, another dose of Reaganomics, headache remedies.

My afternoon activities today included a really juicy nap followed by an Internet adventure to research the cost of insulin syringes because I just opened my last box. Diabetes Supplies 4 Less and American Diabetes Wholesale had acceptable prices, but it turns out the best deal is still from our local Wal-Mart pharmacy ($12 for 100).

Yes, I have a lot of time on my hands. I research damn near EVERYTHING.

Incidentally, if you ever want to buy me a present the syringes I use are 1 ml (100 units) with 29 gauge ½-inch needles. Or you can just send cash. Thank you.

Don’t buy into the hype, people. Just order a couple of pizzas.

In this post: A Velveeta crisis, gourmet Japanese snacks, frozen whatnots from Schwan’s.

Breaking news, snack fans. Apparently the Einsteins at Kraft Foods and their eager accomplices at Advertising Age magazine have engineered a Velveeta shortage just in time for Super Bowl Sunday, fueling the fear that football fans from coast to coast won’t have enough cheap shit to eat if they can’t serve Easy Stupid Queso Dip featuring a melted brick of Kraft’s rubber “cheez” and Rotel canned tomatoes. Because onion dip is so last century.

Bread & butter is my favorite food group.

In this post: Sam, thrilling Amazon deals, a love song.

Sam finally got home from the office yesterday morning at 7:45. For those of you following this ongoing story in the Howdygram, Sam worked 16½ hours on Sunday and 10 on Saturday following an inconceivable 19½-hour marathon on New Year’s Day that ended at 7 a.m. Thursday morning. Although he somehow managed to go back to work Thursday afternoon at 3 for his regular shift, yesterday was a total wash-out. Sam collapsed into bed 10 minutes after he got home AND SLEPT NONSTOP FOR 23 HOURS not counting the sweet & sour shrimp I fed him at 6 p.m. so he wouldn’t starve to death. (Worrying about food is the story of my life.)

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.

When songs are stuck in your head.

In this post: Constipated music.

Share and share alike, right? I’ve had these two songs stuck in my head for days, and now it’s YOUR TURN. Here’s Stubby Kaye singing “Fugue for Tinhorns” and “Sit Down You’re Rockin’ the Boat” from Guys and Dolls (1955). The video clips appear below.

Please feel free to share your winter horror stories. I promise not to laugh.

In this post: Meatloaf report, polar freeze.

Breaking news from Howdygram headquarters! I changed my mind at the last minute, and in a fit of hysterical creativity I decided to skip Hormel canned tamales for dinner tonight and made myself a very large meatloaf instead using my favorite low-carb meatloaf mix from Dixie Diner and two pounds of ground beef. Also a couple of jumbo eggs, a squirt of Worcestershire sauce and a package of Lipton dry onion soup mix. I’m so excited I almost can’t stand it. Everything is in the oven. ONLY 52 MINUTES TO GO!

I’m stuck here at Howdygram headquarters with Joan Crawford movies and canned tamales.

In this post: Sam, canned tamales, Joan Crawford Month, Dead Famous People.

It’s 3:45 Saturday afternoon and Sam is on his way to the office for a 12-hour shift. He was Mister Frownyface when he left here a few minutes ago, clearly irritated that his weekend is shot to hell when you consider the 20-hour marathon he just worked on New Year’s Day. Yes, tomorrow will be shot to hell, too. And I’m stuck here at Howdygram headquarters with Joan Crawford movies and canned tamales.

After 62 years of food abuse I’m trapped in a diabetes-centered world for the rest of my life.

In this post: Food groups, Sam, lobster deprivation.

For as long as I can remember, food has always been in charge of my life. Cravings. Losing. Gaining. Gaining more. And now that I have diabetes, it’s even WORSE because entire food groups have disappeared from the realm of possibility, such as pasta, rice, French fries, bread, bagels, chips, Cheetos, Mike & Ikes and doughnuts. (I really miss Mike & Ikes.)

Blaming guns for murder is like saying that “obesity is caused by too many spoons.”

In this post: Sam, another Putz of the Week.

In case you’re wondering what time Sam finally got home from work this morning, he walked in at 7 after a relentless 19½-hour marathon that started yesterday at 11 a.m. I was still in bed pretending to sleep but had been checking the clock every 30 minutes since 5 because my stomach was in a knot. I hate it when Sam isn’t here.

When Sam isn’t home there’s nobody to talk to and I can’t play with his feet. And by the way, Happy New Year.

In this post: Happy New Year, missing Sam.

If you figured I didn’t write a post today because I’ve been laying around with a hangover from New Year’s Eve, this must be your first visit to the Howdygram. I am a slow-moving retired senior citizen with a cane, diabetes, various other health issues and a closet full of maintenance drugs. Truth is, I didn’t write a post today because I got involved in a long afternoon nap followed by the last half of That’s Entertainment: Part III from last night on TCM. And by the way, before I forget ...