Adios to Drew Peterson, the cowardly liar.

And the good news is ... dirtbag Drew Peterson has been sentenced to 38 years in prison for murdering his third ex-wife, Kathleen Savio. THIRTY-EIGHT YEARS! The former suburban Chicago cop was convicted last September but kept fighting for a new trial based on a lot of meaningless horseshit; his appeal was denied earlier today shortly before sentencing. To refresh your memory, Savio was found dead in a dry, clean bathtub on March 1, 2004. Prosecutors were positive that Peterson killed her even though the defense insisted that she fell, hit her head and drowned. WTF! Who drowns in a dry tub? The Savio case actually didn’t take shape until after Peterson’s fourth wife, Stacy, disappeared in 2007. While the police searched for Stacy — whose body is still missing — investigators decided to reinvestigate Savio’s death and finally ruled it was a homicide, not a bathtub accident.

Good riddance to this obnoxious POS, and I would personally like to thank the Illinois courts for a job well done. Let’s hope that prison officials can finally put an end to Peterson’s arrogant “Win A Date With Drew” contest. 

It’s the night before Sam’s eyeball surgery and all’s well at Howdygram headquarters. Sam is still at the office and I’m doing laundry, baking a loaf of low-carb bread, drinking a blueberry phosphate and trying to design a logo for a friend’s new photography business. A hot shower is next on my agenda because I’m freezing.

For your possible interest I had another hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) episode today. After a short yet pleasant afternoon nap I sat down at my desk to work on a project and thought it was a little weird that I couldn’t concentrate, so I checked my blood sugar and it was 42. Holy crap, people, 42 is WAY TOO LOW. I chewed up a couple of glucose tablets (they look and taste like gigantic SweeTarts) and felt better almost immediately, but I’m still baffled as to why this happened because I had a normal lunch and my blood sugar was just fine afterwards. That’s the scary part of diabetes. Crap like this happens without any explanation whatsoever and you have to be prepared for the worst. I carry those glucose chewy things everywhere I go and keep some in every room of the house. Maybe I should also carry a large pepperoni pizza.

Thank you for reading this.