He’s big! He’s weird! He’s so damn bald!

Just fifteen days ahead of my 61st birthday I’m annoyed to report that I received the following insulting baloney in today’s mail: 1) a solicitation to enter a drawing for free cremation; 2) a flyer for a free hearing aid screening at the Baptist church on Belt Line Road; and 3) a letter from AARP asking why the hell haven’t I bought long-term care insurance. I’m so bummed out I might have to resort to a lot of chocolate chocolate chip pound cake and a two-hour nap.

But first ... here’s the latest installment of our Holy Crap Gallery for your possible interest. I think John Travolta definitely qualifies for an honorable mention on this one. He’s BIG! He’s WEIRD! He’s so damn BALD!

Thank you for reading this. I’m hungry.

Websites from hell.

It’s after 1 a.m. and Sam is still stuck at the office. He should have been home last night at 9 but I probably won’t see his smiling face for at least two more hours. I’m Howdygrammin’ in the meantime with a Marcytini, 85 units of insulin and my nightly fistful of pills. I’m not tired enough yet to go to bed. I usually can’t fall sleep until Sam gets home, anyway.

You may recall in my last post that I included a couple of ads from our local newspaper here in Mesquite. In case you didn’t bother to check out the website for the plumbing company I thought I’d share a snapshot of their home page plus the home page of the web design company that created it for them. I believe they’re recent graduates of the Ransom Note School of Graphics and Design.

They advertise “professional web design that works” … except their phone number is obliterated by a pay-now button, they’ve got hideous blinking squad car lights on both sides of the page and their address doesn't appear anywhere. Other than that, it really sucks.

I need to eat more low-carb chocolate chip pound cake. Thanks for stopping by.

Being Santa is obviously a smart career move for geezers who refuse to shave.

I didn’t write a Howdygram post yesterday because I wasn’t in the mood. I know you’ll get over it. We all have to deal with disappointment, right?

Sam and I had a very pleasant Sunday that included a nice excursion — road construction be damned! — to downtown Fort Worth, lunch at El Asadero and a drive-by visit to Cowboys Stadium and the Texas Rangers ballpark, which are conveniently located across the street from each other in Arlington. For your possible interest, this was my first time shooting mealtime insulin away from home! The parking lot next to El Asadero offered the perfect combination of awkwardness, lack of privacy and what the hell am I supposed to do with a used insulin syringe.

The faculty at Howdygram University is pleased to post the following informational video in case you’ve ever had difficulty drinking a can of soda. Please practice this at home; there’s a pop quiz on Thursday (no pun intended). Thank you.

Here’s an enlightening bit of scary baloney courtesy of Foodbeast.com that illustrates four popular fast-food products as they appear in advertisements versus the miserable crap you unwrap in your car. While all of these examples are mighty grim, the most embarrassing of the lot has to be those pathetic Jack in the Box tacos that look like they’ve been pulled out of a body cavity. (Please don’t ask me to elaborate.)

Speaking of advertising, the following two images from our local newspaper provide ample evidence that it’s fun to live in a small tacky town like Mesquite. I particularly love the ad for Santa, which is obviously a smart career move for geezers who refuse to shave. My only question is, what does this Santa dude actually do? If you decide to call and inquire please send me an email afterwards, okay?

My plans for the balance of the evening include: 1) placing an order with Amazon.com for the fabulous crap pictured below; 2) taking a nice hot shower; 3) eating low-carb chocolate chocolate chip pound cake; and 4) I can’t think of anything else. Incidentally, the aforementioned chocolate chocolate chip pound cake is actually a Dixie Diner muffin mix from Netrition.com. I add DaVinci sugar-free chocolate syrup instead of water, make mine in an 8" x 4" loaf pan instead of muffin tins and increase the baking time to 30 minutes. It’s so outrageously good that I usually make an effort to eat the whole thing in one night. (I never joke about food.)

Try not to gag about the Baken-ets. They’re crunchy and salty with ZERO CARBS, making them an ideal choice for diabetic senior citizens with unusual snacking needs. Worthington Saucettes are vegetarian mock breakfast sausages and another delightful example of fake meat in a can, of which I’m so damn fond. You can learn more about Saucettes here and purchase some for yourself. (Yes, they’re expensive. Think of them as a luxury item, like a pair of Jimmy Choos in a can with gravy.)

Chicken of the Sea pink salmon should be self-explanatory.

Thank you for reading this.

No email, no weather, no matzo balls.

Maybe the world came to an end today and nobody bothered to tell me. For one thing, I haven’t received a single email since I woke up this morning. NOT ONE STINKING EMAIL. Even Costco, AARP and Obama for America have given up on me. I’m scared.

Second, you may recall all that severe weather we were expecting at 11 a.m. (see previous post). Well, for the last 12 hours those lying sacs of poo at Weather.com have been pushing back the arrival of that storm front in two-hour increments, keeping us stuck at home all day long with flashing red “hide your ass under the bed” warnings and, as recently as 10:45 p.m., were still forecasting armageddon around midnight. Except I just checked online and discovered that — no big surprise, right? — THE ENTIRE LINE OF STORMS MISSED US COMPLETELY. See for yourself. All that colorful crap is moving northeast and not even remotely close to Howdygram headquarters, which I’ve denoted with a pink star on the following map. If you zoom in I’m the crabby senior citizen in the blue robe who’s attempting to inject insulin one-handed. (You can watch if you want to. I don’t mind.)

At the moment Sam is in the family room sleeping through an episode of “Antiques Roadshow.” I can’t believe I’ve decided to skip all those hidden treasures from Milwaukee, Wisconsin, but the blog must go on. I hope you don’t think I’m joking.

This probably won’t mean much to many of you, but yesterday I read an article about the two American researchers sharing this year’s Nobel prize for chemistry, Robert Lefkowitz of Duke University and Brian Kobilka of Stanford. Their discovery, according to the Christian Science Monitor, uncovers a key mechanism used by cells that’s vital to the pharmaceutical industry’s development of new drugs and could lead to drugs with fewer side effects. (I’m definitely in favor of fewer side effects.) The bigger issue, however, is that Robert Lefkowitz is AN EXACT DOUBLE for my cousin Bobby, whose face is inset on the photo below.

Which leads me to my latest brainstorm. I’m thinking why can’t Bobby zoom over to Stockholm ahead of Lefkowitz — nobody would ever know the difference! — grab the $1.2 million prize and then SPLIT IT WITH ME for coming up with this idea in the first place! (Please don’t tell anybody.)

I think I need some food. Too bad we’re out of matzo balls. Thank you for reading this.

It might be time for these women to stay off the red carpet. I think they should learn to knit sweaters.

Good morning, people. I’ve got a pile of fascinating crapola for this post so there’s no point wasting any time. I’ll get right to the point.

Fascinating Crapola #1. You’ll be happy to know that my feet didn’t vibrate last night. Thank you.

Fascinating Crapola #2. I bought myself a countertop spice rack a couple of days ago so I can free up some space in one of my kitchen cabinets. This is no big deal, actually, but I thought I’d post a photo anyway because it’s cute.

I ordered this contraption from MySpiceSage.com along with a few new spices, including GROUND CHIPOTLE PEPPER which tastes a lot better than cayenne and I can’t wait to start throwing it into everything, from soup to mayonnaise to pudding! (Okay, maybe not pudding.)

Fascinating Crapola #3. In case you’re already planning for Halloween I thought I’d share the following brilliant ideas for PET COSTUMES. The Howdygram’s personal favorite is the last one, the four collies. (Especially the one on the left in the Krispy Kreme outfit.) If you’ve got a couple of minutes with nothing to do you can post a comment and let me know which one you like best.

Fascinating Crapola #4. We’ve got SEVERE THUNDERSTORMS heading our way! This is definitely a big hoo-hah for north Texas because we haven’t had much rain for the last few months. According to Weather.com — consistently the most disappointing weather agency ever created — the show’s supposed to start around 11 a.m. and last three or four hours. Please see the map below for further information.

Fascinating Crapola #5. Here’s yet another installment of our popular Holy Crap Gallery, featuring a selection of then-and-now celebrity photos for your Saturday amusement. I’m especially frightened by the photos of Carol Channing and Angela Lansbury and think it might be time for these women to  stay off the red carpet. They should learn to knit sweaters.

Fascinating Crapola #6. I canceled my optometrist appointment this morning because I just didn’t feel like going. I love canceling appointments. For a small fee I’d even be willing to cancel a few of YOURS.

I have to start planning an early lunch now because I’m starving. If I play my cards right maybe Sam will drive over to Long John Silver’s and pick up a bag of fish for me, although I’ve never really been very good at cards and might have to switch to plan B. (Plan B would be a can of soup.) Thank you for reading this.

Good vibrations. (Not really.)

I’ve just entered a whole new realm of insomnia that might even qualify as a personal best. Sam and I finally went to bed at 3 a.m. (see previous post) but I tossed and turned for an eternity, maybe 45 minutes, and couldn’t get comfortable because MY FEET WERE VIBRATING LIKE A PAIR OF PAGERS. Finally I just got up and buzzed my way into the study to screw around with the Howdygram. Both feet are still humming, however, and I’m so tired I could conk out with my face on the keyboard. If this goes on much longer I might try stretching out on the chaise in the family room so I won’t disturb Sam.

Holy crap.

Extolling the convenience virtues of Costco.

It’s well past midnight and I’m still waiting for Sam to come home from work. He called about half an hour ago to tell me it’s been a hideously busy and generally lousy day, and I think he seriously needs get his ass back to Howdygram headquarters, put on his pajamas and eat an ice cream cone as soon as possible. In the meantime I figure I’ll horse around with the Howdygram and kill some time. I have no idea how long I’ll be here.

I’ve been having an issue lately with the Chicago Tribune’s website. Every time I try to launch the site my browser (Firefox) locks up and I have to “force quit” every open tab, which is especially annoying if I’m working on a Howdygram post because usually I can’t retrieve what I’ve already written. This leads to a lot of swearing and unplanned Amazon orders because I shop when I’m frustrated. Also when I’m bored, hungry, weepy, silly, scared, achy, crabby, happy, sullen, hysterical, under the weather and/or extremely tired.

No kidding. Ask Sam.

Here’s some hot news ... I’ve got an appointment for an eye exam Saturday morning! This time I’m using Dr. Field, the optometrist at Costco (stop laughing), because her prices are great and her office is actually inside the store, which makes it really convenient for Sam to run around filling a cart with pistachios, garbage bags, chicken salad, detergent and industrial-size drums of toothpaste while I’m reading eye charts.

Confidentially, I don’t actually intend to get new glasses. My physician recommends an annual eye exam because I’m diabetic, which is fine, but I have no problem with the glasses I’m wearing right now and don’t feel like spending $400 for another pair of progressive trifocals. For your possible interest, below is a photo of Dr. Field with her eyewear mascot, “Batman.”

Sam called a few minutes ago to tell me he’ll be leaving the office by 2 a.m., which gives me just enough time for a nice hot shower. Turn off the lights when you’re done here, okay?

Sorry, Wendy’s. I’m just not into square meat with stinky sauce.

I learned something important about myself today. I learned that it’s hard for a senior citizen to write a Howdygram post when she’s crabby, needs homemade soup and has a pounding headache. Even though I took a couple of fake (i.e., generic) extra-strength Tylenols about half an hour ago, only the headache part is getting better. I’m definitely still feeling hungry and antisocial.

If truth be told, I might be willing to eat Long John Silver’s instead of soup if somebody would pick it up for me. The first person who knocks on the door of Howdygram headquarters with a sack of fish & chips (with a pint of cole slaw) gets to watch the vice-presidential debate with me tonight. I have napkins. Thank you in advance for your attention to this request.

This is probably a perfect segue — you know, fast food —  into a late-breaking story from our Who Gives A Crap department. It seems that Wendy’s is updating its logo for the first time since 1983, a move that’s supposed to signal its transformation into a “high-end hamburger chain” (their words, not mine).

They can’t be serious. Somebody please explain how new pigtails and logotype that’s hand-drawn with a Sharpie signals high-end anything ... especially when the food still sucks! A few months ago I was waiting for Sam to finish up at a doctor appointment and decided to drive through a Wendy’s on the corner for one of their single small hamburgers. Even though I was starving that burger smelled so awful I couldn’t eat it.

I apologize if I’ve offended any Wendy’s fans. Maybe I’m just not into square meat with stinky sauce.

And now, because I’m feeling increasingly political as debate time approaches, I’d like to share the following video clips about Mitt Romney plus this link to an interesting election-related blog: Romney the Liar.

Just in case you didn’t know the Howdygram’s official viewpoint of the 2012 presidential campaign ...

Thank you.

The first-ever Howdygram Brainstorm Award.

As a diabetic I spend a lot of time researching nutritional information for all the food I buy, especially products I’m ordering online for the first time, to find out about the carbohydrates and fiber. Today I was pondering the nutritional data for ordinary cornstarch (I use it to thicken things) but for some dumb reason the package label tells you it’s 120 grams of carbs PER CUP. This is a real problem because who the hell uses a whole cup of cornstarch? Normal people measure it by the tablespoon unless you’re cooking for the troops at Fort Bragg. Fortunately, I just discovered NutrientFacts.com and my life is changed forever. You can look up any food on the planet — everything from marshmallows to canned sardines — and recalculate the nutritional information by whatever measurement you want, such as teaspoons, tablespoons, cups, pints, grams, handfuls, pounds, ounces, you name it, as demonstrated by the illustration below regarding the aforementioned cornstarch. You don’t even have to know any math. (Thank God.)

This is BRILLIANT, and I am therefore thrilled to announce that NutrientFacts.com wins our first-ever Howdygram Brainstorm Award. Yee-haw and holy crap!

Thank you for reading this.

Another dose of that snotty Romney smirk.

Happy Wednesday from Howdygram headquarters! It’s a dark and overcast morning here in north Texas, Sam is at the grocery store stocking up on a load of necessary crapola and I decided to stay home and hate Mitt Romney.

If you’ve never tried hating Mitt, I recommend it wholeheartedly. He’s got that snotty Romney smirk and can’t tell the truth to save his soul. Today he announced to the Des Moines Register that he “would not pursue any abortion-related legislation if elected president,” a statement his campaign retracted even before he had a chance to close his mouth. Almost immediately, Romney spokeswoman Andrea Saul submitted a correction: “Governor Romney would of course support legislation aimed at providing greater protections for life. Mitt Romney is proudly pro-life, and he will be a pro-life president.”

What the hell?

After Obama’s staff stopped laughing they issued a statement clarifying Romney’s real stand on this issue in case citizens are having a hard time keeping track of the endless baloney (that’s a nicer word for bullshit). According to Obama’s spokeswoman Lis Smith, Romney has stated emphatically that he’d “be delighted to sign a bill banning all abortions,” wants to shut down federal funding for Planned Parenthood and calls Roe v. Wade “one of the darkest moments in Supreme Court history.” Romney has even pledged to appoint Supreme Court justices to overturn it.

Bottom line? Women can’t trust him. Men can’t trust him. Children can’t trust him. Dogs, cats, gerbils and goldfish can’t trust him. Even his own campaign staff can’t trust him.

Thank you for putting up with me. I have to make lunch now and watch a couple of reruns with Sam. Stop by later if you have time.

It’s that stupid time of year in Texas.

It occurred to me a few minutes ago that if I didn’t have a cane I’d probably fall down a lot. My current experience with diabetic neuropathy is manifesting itself as a condition I refer to as “jello feet,” whereby my feet and ankles feel like jello whenever I stand up too fast or the room is dark. I also briefly lose my balance and feel like I’m tipping over. This usually subsides in less than 10 seconds, which is definitely a good thing because I’m usually home alone and I’d prefer NOT to spend it lying on the floor.

I try to distract myself by playing with our thermostat. It’s that stupid time of year in Texas when the outside temperature is 82° during the day and 52° at night, which means I’m switching back and forth between heat and air-conditioning until I’m ready to blow my brains out. Sam leaves all the adjustment hoo-hah up to yours truly because I don’t think he can read the teeny numbers on the digital display. I guess it finally pays to be an old lady with progressive trifocals.

And now for a couple of Howdygram movie reviews! Sam and I watched a pair of classics this week. The first was Golden Boy (1939) with William Holden, Barbara Stanwyck, Adolphe Menjou and Lee J. Cobb. I think my biggest issue with this film was the casting, since Lee J. Cobb was only seven years older than William Holden but played the part of his Italian immigrant FATHER.

Seriously, all those agents and casting directors couldn’t dig up somebody else for a part like this? Holden at age 21 was adorable but Cobb’s characterization of dad was just plain annoying. He was grubby, cried (sobbed, actually) too much, didn’t own a razor, a comb or a clean shirt and spoke with an exaggerated accent that might have sounded better on a Broadway stage. On the plus side, however, Barbara Stanwyck and Adolphe Menjou were simply swell. (I love Adolphe Menjou.)

Next we watched Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1931) with Fredric March and Miriam Hopkins. The special effects were amazing for 1931 but overall the film threw in a little too much silent-era melodrama, i.e., chest-thumping, hysteria, wild gestures and close-ups so extreme you could look up somebody’s nose. The performances were excellent, though, especially Fredric March as Jekyll/Hyde with all that bizarre gorilla makeup and Miriam Hopkins as Ivy, the cute little music hall tart that Hyde terrorizes and eventually kills. (No, it’s not a comedy.) The film also featured a lot of top-notch scenery, eerie photography and foggy streets.

I’d better start thinking about dinner so I can shoot insulin, consume food and watch tonight’s episode of “Hardcore Pawn.” It’s a full life.

Satan Sandusky insists he’s innocent. Seriously.

On the eve of his sentencing for 45 counts of child sexual abuse, former Penn State assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky has released a taped statement to a local radio station insisting that he was framed by his “accusers” because they were interested only in “prestige and financial gain.”

As we all resist the temptation to puke, let’s try to wrap our heads around this for a minute, shall we? Ten humiliated boys and young men — victims, not “accusers” — who didn’t know about each other decide to get rich and famous by pretending they were sexually abused and raped by Satan Sandusy over a period of 15 years. For this reason alone I hope the judge sentences him to 45 consecutive lifetimes behind bars. I personally think Sandusky’s popularity rating is just about the same as Joran van der Sloot’s. HOLY CRAP.

In other news, I just snagged a couple of excellent bargains on cold-weather essentials for our pantry here at Howdygram headquarters! I ordered six 32-oz. containers of College Inn chicken broth for $15.16  from Amazon and three jumbo canisters of Manischewitz matzo ball mix for $15.99 from Soap.com.

FYI, if you’ve never visisted Soap.com please give them a try and tell them Marcy sent you. They’ve got amazing prices on just about everything — including a huge variety of groceries — plus free shipping when you spend $39 or more, which isn’t hard to do. For instance, the matzo ball mix I ordered today was 50% cheaper than Amazon! (I wouldn’t joke about this. We take matzo balls very seriously around here.)

It’s 8:15 p.m. and I think I’d like a nice hot shower and a bucket of steamed cauliflower but not at the same time. Thank you.

Celebrating Columbus Day and homicidal maniacs in the news.

First, before I forget, I would like to extend to Howdygramsters far and wide our warmest wishes for a Happy Columbus Day. This is the date on which America remembers its first Italian immigrant, celebrating as a nation with Craftsman Saver Days at Sears and no mail delivery. Here at Howdygram headquarters our after-hours Columbus Day party will include low-carb spaghetti and my favorite Gina Lollobrigida movie, Come September (1961), co-starring Rock Hudson, Walter Slezak, Bobby Darin and Sandra Dee. Ciao, y’all.

From our Scumbags In The News department, apparently homicidal maniac Joran van der Sloot, who’s currently serving 28 years in a Peruvian prison for the brutal murder of a girl he met at a poker tournament, has fathered a baby with a “conjugal visitor.” The Dutch newspaper De Telegraaf said van der Sloot reported that the woman forgot to take her  birth control pills but refuses to have an abortion due to her Catholic faith. That may be swell and commendable, but correct me if I’m wrong ... I also didn’t think religious Catholics were allowed to use contraceptives and screw prison inmates. I’m just saying.

If and when van der Sloot completes his sentence in Peru he’s wanted by law enforcement authorities in the United States for extorting $25,000 from the family of Natalee Holloway, the American teen who disappeared on vacation in Aruba in 2005, in exchange for information about the location of her body. A self-admitted pathological liar, van der Sloot was the last person to see Holloway alive and actually confessed three times to killing her, later retracting all three confessions. He used the money he extorted from Natalee’s family to attend that poker tournament in Peru, where he killed Stephany Flores.

I personally find it very hard to believe that useless crap like Joran van der Sloot is still allowed to breathe. Even worse, now he’s MULTIPLYING.

Maybe I’ll start my Columbus Day party early and fold a pile of Sam’s socks and underwear. Mazel tov to everybody and thank you for reading this.

I think cool zombies should count for something, don’t you?

Know what? Sam saved my life this morning! I woke up at 5 a.m. in the middle of a hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) incident, feeling shaky, disoriented, crappy and uncontrollably hungry. He helped me into the study so I could test my blood sugar and it was only 50, the lowest reading I’ve ever had. So Sam brought me some raisins from the pantry and nuked one of those Schwan’s fake Egg McMuffin things for me. It took half an hour until I felt steady enough to go back to bed.

Regarding blood sugar numbers. Normal is considered 80 to 120; the result is considered low at 70 and dangerously low at 50, especially for a diabetic. I might have triggered this situation myself last night (inadvertently) as I’m still figuring out the nuances of mealtime insulin.

You have just read another chapter of Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland.

Sam is on his way to pick up an early lunch — glorioski! GRILLED HOT DOGS! — from Five Guys. Since it’s another cold and overcast day here and I have zero motivation to leave the house, the rest of my Sunday projects and activities will include: 1) eating the aforementioned grilled hot dogs; 2) writing this Howdygram post; 3) baking a nice low-carb pound cake; and 4) I can’t think of anything else unless it involves emptying the dishwasher. (I hate emptying the dishwasher.)

Last night Sam and I watched a one-star 1950s horror dreckfest called Zombies of Mora-Tau starring a cast of unknowns with no visible talent whatsoever, such as Allison Hayes with her road-cone titties as a character named Mona Harrison, a crabby floozy who’s married to a con man hunting for sunken treasure. Her other claim to fame was 1957’s Attack of the 50-Foot Woman, in which a gigantic Allison roamed Las Vegas screeching “I want my husband Harry!”

But I digress. In Zombies of Mora-Tau you get a couple of con men, Allison Hayes, a scientist and a treasure diver arriving in Africa by boat to hunt for a chest full of diamonds buried in a sunken ship off the coast. Unfortunately the diamonds are being guarded by a dozen creepy zombies, who all happen to be the original sailors that went down with the ship 50 years earlier. Most of the action centers around a huge Long Island-style mansion near the shore that’s owned by an old lady with cheesy wrinkle makeup whose husband is one of the dead zombie sailors. Other residents include her sexpot granddaughter Jan with an endless supply of tight skirts and negligees and a Rolls Royce with a uniformed chauffeur that nobody ever explains. (This is supposed to be Africa, remember?)

I’m not sure why Zombies of Mora-Tau only qualified for one star. The acting sucked, to be sure, but the plot wasn’t really awful and the zombies were cool. I think cool zombies should count for something, don’t you? Thank you for reading this.

A person should not have to bother with a bra and shoes when she doesn’t want to.

We were thinking about dinner at Thai Star tonight, an amazing little restaurant in north Dallas that we tried (and loved) about three weeks ago. However, the only time we can go is on Saturdays when they open the doors at 5, because Thai Star is closed on Sundays and we never go out during the week because Sam doesn’t get home from work until everybody else is in bed. (Translation: 11 p.m.) So today would be our only shot, except it’s already 4:25, Sam is sound asleep in the family room and I just decided that I don’t feel like going out during our first blast of fall weather (overcast, windy and 52°). The general rule of thumb around here is, a person should not have to bother with a bra and shoes when she doesn’t want to. AND I DON’T WANT TO. I vote that we order a big sack of food from China City instead and watch Close Encounters of the Third Kind on TCM. In pajamas.

I have to shoot some insulin now. Thank you for reading this.

Another middle-of-the-night tryst with the Howdygram.

From our popular Everybody Kiss the Cook department, a quick comment about THE JOYS OF TOMATO POWDER, which I used yesterday for the very first time. If you’ve never tried this stuff you should give it a shot! One rounded teaspoon of tomato powder smooshed up with one or two tablespoons of water produces EXCELLENT TOMATO PASTE in a small quantity that you can add to recipes without wasting half a can. That’s exactly what I did when I made Marcy’s Revolutionary Bean Soup for dinner last night instead of adding the ketchup. You can also reconstitute tomato powder into ordinary tomato sauce — ¼ cup powder to 2¼ cups of water — or just sprinkle a little into all kinds of recipes for color and flavor. If you’re adventurous and/or desperate, make yourself some really speedy cream of tomato soup using the recipe demonstrated below by an amateur chef with waaay too much time on his hands (and a visibly dirty microwave) ...

I’m intrigued enough to try the cream of tomato soup thing later today. I always add Equal to my tomato soup so it reminds me of Campbell’s, which I can’t eat any more because it’s loaded with high fructose corn syrup and I have diabetes. FYI, you can buy tomato powder from MySpiceSage.com and Shelf Reliance.

I should try going back to bed for a while so Sam won’t get scared if I’m not there, although this actually never happens. Thank you for reading this.

Does anybody else remember Art Fern and the Tea-Time Movie?

Holy crap and happy Friday! I just woke up from a two-hour nap with a hairdo like Alfalfa Switzer and was so confused and disoriented that I didn’t know where I was or how I got there. I remember falling asleep watching a Margaret Rutherford movie called Murder at the Gallop and the next thing I know I’m buying avocados in a gigantic, 24-hour Albertson’s store with my mother, my father and Rock Hudson. The produce displays were covered by canvas tarps for the night so we had to page the manager, apparently played by Jean Hersholt, to let us look underneath.

I don’t really know why I considered this dream so weird and disturbing, but to help clear my head I decided to run the dishwasher and think about dinner. I love thinking about dinner.

I’ve got a news flash from Diabetesland. USING MEALTIME INSULIN IS REALLY ANNOYING. I’m supposed to turn myself into Carnac the Magnificent and predict how many carbs I’ll eat at my next meal, inject an appropriate quantity of insulin half an hour in advance and then sit around staring at a clock so I won’t fall into a coma on my way to the kitchen. Maybe I should carry a little electronic egg timer in my pocket or a sack of Cheetos.

In case you were born after 1980 or just flew into town from a distant galaxy, Carnac the Magnificent was one of Johnny Carson’s most popular alter-egos during his 30-year run on “The Tonight Show.” (My other favorite characters were Art Fern and Floyd Turbo, both pictured below.)

Know what? Carson has been off the air since 1992 — TWENTY YEARS — and I still miss him! Nobody’s ever been funnier except for Sam and Bill Maher. And I mean this sincerely.

I’ve decided to make Marcy’s Revolutionary Bean Soup for dinner because nearly all the ingredients are freeze-dried — excluding the water, cilantro and chicken base — which means if I start now I could be eating by 7. I’m modifying my own recipe this time. I plan to replace the ketchup with a tablespoon of tomato powder, part of an order that showed up earlier today from MySpiceSage.com. This is so swell I almost can’t stand it.

Thank you for reading this.

Mealtime insulin injections are easy, painless and fun. (Okay, not fun.)

Hi, people. Today is National Taco Day! Although I might be the only Jewish senior citizen in North America with actual plans for a private celebration, I’m seriously considering homemade tacos for dinner tonight with low-carb taco shells and Shelf Reliance taco-flavored textured vegetable protein. (Stop laughing. This crap is really good.) I’ve got enough on hand to feed company, so please send an email at your earliest convenience if you’d like to come over. Thank you.

Breaking news from Diabetesland! I just found out I’m going to save a FORTUNE if I start buying all of my diabetes supplies exclusively from Wal-Mart ... and I’m not just talking about prescriptions, either. This morning Sam stopped at our local Wal-Mart store on Town East Boulevard and bought me a box of 100 ReliOn insulin syringes (that’s Wal-Mart’s private label) for only $12, which is less than half what other brands cost. I got hysterical and looked up the entire line of ReliOn products on Wal-Mart’s website, and they’ve got all kinds of essential paraphernalia for diabetics at prices that are monumentally cheaper than anything I’ve found on the Internet, including Amazon and American Diabetes Wholesale. I thought my head would explode! I ordered a new glucose meter for only $14 and a box of 50 test strips for $9. Trust me, nine bucks for 50 test strips is INCREDIBLE. The brand I’ve been using (FreeStyle Lite) costs about $30 for 50 strips when I’m lucky enough to find them on Amazon; if I have to buy this crapola from a pharmacy my co-pay is $45. WOW.

Don’t cry for me, Argentina, but I remember when I used to get excited about designer shoes or great airfare to Cancun. Now it’s cheap insulin syringes.

As long as I’m on the subject, Sam watched as I did my very first mealtime insulin injection this morning ... six teeny units of Humulin half an hour before lunch. It was easy, painless and fun! (Okay, not fun.)

I think I’ll take a break from all this excitement and stretch out in the family room for a while. Thank you for reading this.

Tasteless muffins, cheesy movies and chicken things from Schwan’s.

Good afternoon, howdy and shalom! It’s been a hectic and productive day around here. So far my activities have included: 1) a one-hour nap; 2) baking a dozen low-carb blueberry muffins; 3) trying to buy insulin syringes online; and 4) recording a bunch of cheesy horror movies on TCM. In case you’re interested, #1 was excellent, #2 are tasteless, #3 was a waste of time (the best prices are actually in-person at Wal-Mart) and the jury is still out on #4 since the movies in question don’t begin until 8 p.m. tonight, at which time I’ll be watching the presidential debate on MSNBC while folding underwear concurrently.

The aforementioned cheesy movies are:

• The Mystery of the Wax Museum (1933) starring Fay Wray and Glenda Farrell.
• Doctor X (1932) starring Fay Wray and Lee Tracy.
• Mark of the Vampire (1935) starring Lionel Barrymore. 
• House of Dracula (1945) starring Lon Chaney, Jr., and John Carradine.
• Zombies of Mora Tau (1957) starring nobody you ever heard of.
• I Walked with a Zombie (1943) starring Frances Dee and Tom Conway.

I should mention that House of Dracula has a one-star rating and probably stinks.

Breaking news from the animal kingdom! An Einstein in Florida found herself on the local sheriff department’s “top ten most wanted” list after she was photographed riding a wild manatee at Fort De Soto Park on Sunday in the waters north of Gulf Pier. The woman turned herself in to police when she learned that riding a sea cow is considered a second-degree misdemeanor.

The Florida Manatee Sanctuary Act (would I joke about this?) states: “It is unlawful for any person at any time, by any means, or in any manner intentionally or negligently to annoy, molest, harass, or disturb or attempt to molest, harass, or disturb a manatee.” Miss Einstein faces a possible penalty of 60 days in jail and a fine of $500 even though authorities say the manatee didn’t file a complaint about being ridden like a pool toy. It should be noted that wild manatees can grow up to 12 feet in length and weigh about 2,000 pounds. They are also seriously ugly. Holy crap.

It’s 7 p.m. and I need to make some serious decisions about dinner. I’m leaning towards frozen chicken things from Schwan’s so I can try the new sugar-free barbecue sauce that  came yesterday from Netrition.com. Even though these Schwan’s whatnots are basically chicken nuggets on steroids they taste pretty good if you drown them in sauce. I don’t eat mine on buns, though. I don’t have any buns.

Thank you for reading this. Don’t forget to watch the debate, okay?

Hot feet, politics and peanut butter. Just another day in Howdygramland.

I’ve had a crappy night. VERY, VERY CRAPPY. I woke up at 3 a.m. and haven’t been back to bed due to indigestion induced by two tablespoons of peanut butter shortly after midnight, hot feet and finding out yesterday that my former brother-in-law died. Since there’s not much I can do about feet and death at this hour of the morning I figure I’ll horse around with the Howdygram for a while and drink Coke Zero until I belch, which is typically the sole cure for a peanut butter debacle.

That had to be my stupidest opening paragraph EVER.

If you’re a woman, or if you care for one, please take a few minutes to watch the following video clip. Thank you in advance.



Big news. Following another long, hot and seriously dry summer, autumn will finally gallop into the Dallas/Forth Worth metroplex on Saturday, as indicated by this five-day forecast from Weather.com. Unfortunately, at the present time I’m too damn tired to care. (And you can’t make me.)

My plans for the rest of the day — providing I finally get some sleep — will include: 1) baking and eating low-carb blueberry muffins; 2) folding underwear; and 3) watching the presidential debate on MSNBC. It’s entirely possible that I might be able to combine all three activities into a full evening of entertainment, so please send an email if you’d like to come over, okay?

Glorioski! Coke Zero just worked its magic so I’m going back to bed at last. Thank you for reading this.

Diabetesland ... the crappiest place on earth!

I had a follow-up appointment with Dr. M this morning and learned that it’s time for me to write yet another new chapter of Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland.

Effective today we’re adding mealtime insulin, an injection 30 minutes before every meal (up to four times a day) that will give me better control of my blood sugar numbers once I learn how to count carbs like an idiot savant. This also means buying creepy little bottles of Humulin 100 and real syringes like a heroin addict. I’m NOT HAPPY about this for three really important reasons:

1. Using Humulin mealtime insulin (in addition to two injections of Lantus at bedtime) means I’ll be injecting myself six times a day. SIX TIMES A DAY!
2. I’m a senior citizen. I’ll never remember to do this every time I eat.
3. I don’t want to give up Cheetos.

And if that’s not crappy enough to make an old lady whack somebody with her cane, I also should announce that I’m convinced Wall Street is manipulating the wintergreen Tic Tac market. I wanted to order a case of 12 (see below) online last night and couldn’t find them anywhere, including Amazon, for less than $25 — more than TWICE what I paid a month ago — while other flavors were selling for $14.25. THIS IS AN OUTRAGE AND A CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY. Thank you.

For your possible interest I’m pleased to post the following photos of my adorable great-nephew Cooper, which were taken in August when he was six months old. Oy, I could eat this little guy on a low-carb bagel!

I guess I should shlep over to Wal-Mart now and pick up my Humulin prescription. Thanks for stopping by.

Tune in next Sunday for beefy Mafia wannabes who own shady construction companies.

I’m curious. Does everybody like the Howdygram’s new round logo with the happy cowpoke in the middle? (That’s Sam, in case you didn’t know.) I just finished three loads of laundry and decided to treat myself to a little “design time” as a reward. Thank you for putting up with me.

I also want to wish my sister-in-law Lisa a very happy birthday from Sam and me. Mazel tov, congratulations and holy crap! In case you’re interested, Lisa, I plan to celebrate by eating an entire pot of Bear Creek hot & sour soup all by myself, mostly because you’re in California and I’m NOT.

Did anyone besides me see part one of the Real Housewives of New Jersey reunion special last night on Bravo? These five lunatics offer the clearest reason EVER for not having girlfriends, because watching them scream and bitch at each other for an hour like vicious, jealous middle-school brats actually made my skin crawl. But believe it or not, I actually felt clean, sane and normal afterwards, like I’d just finished six months of psychotherapy.

Be sure to tune in next Sunday night for part two, because this time the HUSBANDS join in, a bunch of beefy Mafia wannabes who own shady construction companies! It can only get worse, right? Oh boy!

Thank you for reading this.

A mini mummy marathon and a catchy Pizza Robot Song. Everybody sing!

After a water-logged weekend — 2¼ inches of rain! — spent mostly indoors I’m pleased to report that Sam and I enjoyed a mini mummy marathon on TCM that included: 1) The Mummy (1932) starring Boris Karloff; 2) Charlie Chan in Egypt (1935) starring Warner Oland and Rita Hayworth; and 3) Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy (1955) starring — go on, take a guess! — Abbott and Costello.

A few thoughts about the aforementioned films. First, Boris Karloff was one of the creepiest horror characters EVER as Imhotep the mummy. What a great movie! This was definitely our favorite. Second, I don’t know about you, but it drives me nuts to see white people playing Asians. I mean, was there a SHORTAGE? Warner Oland was a Swedish actor who got stuck in Chinese makeup for almost his entire career. His first Chinese role was in The Lightning Raider (1919) followed by 36 additional films (mostly as Charlie Chan) until his death in 1938. And finally, for your possible interest, Rita Hayworth was only 17 years old when she co-starred with Oland in Charlie Chan in Egypt. At the time she was an exotic brunette still using her real name (Rita Cansino) and was usually cast in films as a foreigner or a fake gypsy. In this case Rita was a fake Egyptian alongside Oland as a fake Chinese detective. Oy.

Don’t laugh, but it took me three days of trial and error to figure out how to add the Howdygram’s new three-star divider image that appears at the end of every post. The original HTML coding that I had on file was giving me crappy results so I had to comb through several million lines of my blog’s style sheet code until I nailed down what I was supposed to do. I never gave up, which is a personality trait that almost always guarantees both results and insanity. On the bright side, though, now I finally have some free time to FOLD SOCKS. Yee-haw!

One last thought as I migrate into the family room for a nap and “People’s Court.” Here’s a video clip of a catchy Pizza Robot Song that might interest you. (Or not.) If you learn the words you might consider a family singalong.



Thank you for reading this and don’t forget the Cowboys/Bears game tonight on Monday Night Football.

It’s matzo ball time in Texas.

Before I commence making matzo balls for Sam I want to mark an extremely special and happy occasion, one that I’ve been looking forward to for the last couple of months.

Holy crap, people ... this is our ONE THOUSANDTH POST since the Howdygram’s inception in December 2009! That’s an average of 29½ posts per month for your entertainment and enlightenment on a wide range of topics that include food, travel, pop culture, politics, consumer alerts, news from Texas, current events, weather reports, Marcy’s Adventures in Diabetesland, online shopping tips, recipes, gossip, TV and movie reviews, Einstein Awards and advance notice of upcoming Gefilte Fish Festivals. Seriously, where else can you find so much quality and variety ... for free?

I should also mention that my birthday is ONE MONTH FROM TOMORROW, so in case you’re working on a shopping list I want the following cans of freeze-dried crap from Shelf Reliance. Pictured below are: 1) sour cream powder; 2) butter powder; 3) diced carrots; 4) cut green beans; 5) mangos; and 6) chopped onions. This stuff is so convenient and tasty it almost makes my head explode.

It’s matzo ball time in Texas. Thank you for reading this!

Mastering the fine art of gummi bear surgery.

At last, some creative new ideas for home-grown Saturday night entertainment! If you’re a senior citizen shut-in with a sharp X-acto knife and a lot of time on your hands between meals I’d like to recommend mastering the fine art of GUMMI BEAR SURGERY* as illustrated below for your possible interest. (There are other procedures, too, so please let me know if you’d like to see more.)

Incidentally, diabetics (like me) should consider practicing only on sugar-free patients in case you decide to eat your mistakes. You can stock-up with a convenient five-pound bag here on Amazon.com.

I’m delighted to report that it’s been raining here in the Dallas area since the wee hours this morning and continues to rain steadily as I write this post. Sam is asleep in the family room, and I’m seriously contemplating a large volume of food as I think I forgot to eat dinner. Since it’s getting late I might begin with one of those cute yet tasty Schwan’s frozen breakfast omelets — microwave perfection in 2½ minutes! — of which I’ve grown exceedingly fond.

My favorite is the garden vegetable omelet but they also make a really nice ham and cheese variety, provided you like ham and cheese. (I like ham and cheese.) Thank you for reading this and don’t forget to shut the light when you’re done.

*With heartfelt thanks to ManiacWorld.com.