In honor of Leap Day —here’s what I wrote on Leap Day 2008 ( which is NOT included on this site but IS included in the forthcoming book)

Enjoy Leap Day 4 years ago— in NJ, Pre-Patrick, Pre-Radio Shows, Pre-Facebook, Pre-Twitter, During the 2008 Primary Season

It only comes every four years, so to celebrate, I decided to devote this entire day to things I otherwise couldn’t/wouldn’t/shouldn’t do…

 10:30am. Arise.  Forget girls have school.  Think how cute they are sitting there on the couch eating frosting in their jammies.  Forget to go to the gym.  Leave bed unmade and towels on the floor. 

10:45am:  Eat 3 Dunkin Donuts and an everything bagel with sun-dried tomato cream cheese. Think that I’m hungry for hummus and salmon for lunch.  Order french fries and a Coke at next stop, in case want them later.

11:-1pm: Look at gossip mags and old Calvin & Hobbes books while watching Melrose Place reruns on Soapnet. Hope that the girls are having fun playing on Daddy’s computer and with his guitar.

1pm:  Naptime.  Curl up in bed with 20 pillows and a ½ lb bag of Peanut M & M’s.  Think that my bed is too messy now so go to Maggie’s so I can smell her little smell.

2:30:  Arise. Prank local Hillary Clinton Campaign office. Prank Obama campaign office by, everytime they say “Obama”, shouting “Gezzunteit”.  Die laughing.

3:30.  Surf net.  Order from Sephora, HSN, QVC, and PiperLime. Even order that cute copper cooler from Frontgate (seen in Skymall). 

3:55  Download all the songs from Pirates of Penzance and Don Quixote for my ringtones.

 4:10: Call up Jerry and wonder why Pfizer didn’t give him off Leap Day. Complain about this, the liberal bias in the media, the lady next store STILL not bringing us Welcome Neighbor Brownies and the fact that people honk too often in the NorthEast.   Check e-mail.  Complain that “no one writes me”.  E-mail them all and tell them it’s Leap Day and they’d better or I’m sending Samantha over to their house with a box of popsicles and a whistle.

5:00  Cocktail hour. Order more stuff on internet. Tease hair. Apply MORE makeup.  Wear shoes that hurt my feet.  Ignore dishes in the sink.  Perfect Cher impression by singing, “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.”  Kiss the girls till their little faces are bruised.

6:00 Yeah! Jerry’s home. Head down to the city for overpriced Sushi at See and Be Seen place. Take my kids to prove to the world that they are cuter than most. Graciously turn down offer for them to be in commercials (too cheesy) but agree to talk to agent about Allie Grace’s audition for Cosette in Les Miz…

9:00 Come home. Explain to Jerry the house is a mess because I was simply swamped today feeding my (so very hungry) Inner-Id….

Jill Hickey

I know what you’re thinking.  She might do MOST of that stuff everyday anyway…  

But you’d be WRONG.  It’s not even close to one of my days.  

Melrose Place doesn’t  come on during that time!

I love Bethenny & her Cadbury Egg success story.  Hard on outside, soft on inside, selling product hand-over-fist.

Bethenny this week with Daughter Bryn

Bethenny Ever After is in Dreaded Season Three.   Season One= Fun and new.  Season Two= next layer unfolds. Season Three= stunt-casting, staged interactions & fancy (er) trips.  (I wrote the same 3 years ago about Jon &Kate)  http://notsosoccermom.com/blog/2009/03/24/grump-snore-more-my-take-on-jon-kate/

What I liked—no, loved— about Bethenny when she came on our screens was the package of funny, hot, smart & a touch manic.   Now that she’s gotten all the things we famously heard Ramona prophecy in a reunion show  (baby, fella and success ), she has become less fun to watch.

Particularly annoying were two facets of the show:   Bethenney’s sex talk/ potty mouth schtick.  Where these comments used to be real, funny & appropriately placed, they now seem too eager to make conversation, shock others and glib.  It’s like a caricature of herself from Season One. Secondly, her wayward Old- Married -Woman -With-Kid- I’m -So -Tired -Routine.  We get it.  You’re settled in.  But you’re a Settled In Millionaire who gets to do & have things only 1/100,000 of us do.   Your fan base ARE the moms out here who have been through year two of marriage and having a toddler and being sex and/or sleep deprived already — without assistants, nurses, ‘events’ to attend & famous Besties.  We want to live through you. So don’t make it look like it sucks or you’re too busy to enjoy it.

Reality TV is hard. We all know what happened before it’s edited to look like it happened.  Bethenny is one of the first to monetize Reality into GIGANTIC bucks & HouseHold Name status. My hope is that she can be a first to take reality back to more real.

Jill

Great, but HOW do I listen?

GO to the site NotSoSoccerMomRadio.com

ALL day Monday the show airs and re-airs at the top of every hour.

We have a pop-out player so you can listen while you hit other sites!

ENJOY

While I wait for my … was it fast-acting or long-lasting?… pills and syrups to kick in I thought I’d advise on the timeline of the Adult Winter Cold Timeline.   You can look this up.  It’s true. It happens to everyone. It’s probably in Wikipedia.  ((( as soon as I publish it over there))

Stage One:      The  Telltale Tickle   (No,  this is not a movie you saw in college)

Stage Two:        Denial:     Denial is Stage Two in pretty much everything.

Stage Three:     Self Importance:   “I have a _______ coming up. I cannot get sick.”   Even the most slovenly college student or park bum

                             is ‘too busy to get sick.’

Stage Four:       Admission to family/ friends  ”I’m getting sick.”

Stage Five:        The Village:  ”You should take______________. You  should be doing ________.  Did you get a flu shot?”

Stage Six:          Bed: Dodge The Village and their rubs/ elixirs/ how-to’s/ chicken soup/ supplements & judgment. “If only she’d taken

                             the Cold Eeze. I do everyday and look at me– why I haven’t had a cold in 5 years. Also, echinachea…”

Stage Seven:    Secret Enjoyment:   “Why,  this is somewhat relaxing.   I really should unwind more often. Yes, I DO feel like someone shoved

spoons up cheeks via my nose, but I’m  caught on my game shows, Will & Grace re-runs and reading.    BUT, how come no one brings

                            chicken soup anymore?

Stage Eight:     Hatred:   I hate you, puffy eyes. I hate you, sore cheeks. I hate you, people,  who slept last night while I had  Nyquil dream about

                             riding my sister’s dog to pick up pizza and my 1st grade teacher was there and then the house she shared the lady who played Flo

                             on Alice burnt down.

Stage Nine:     Betterment:   I might be feeling better. Am I? I’m not ready to share this information yet.  I was liking My Bed and Being Spoiled.

                            Someone still might bring soup?

Stage Ten:       Denouement:   I’m back, world. Look at me. No frog voice, no bloodshot eyes, no Nyquil shots.

Jill

I’m only at Stage 6.5

Still time to send soup.

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