*This article is a part of the the Fall 2011 Joke Issue: Real Housewives of 34th Street.
5:35 p.m.: Hit the salon to get ready. Ask makeup artist what eyeshadow looks best on a telephoto lens, just in case. 6:37 p.m.: Mini crisis. Does red look good on television? Do I need botox? Breathe, Michaele. 6:39 p.m.: Breathing is for losers, grab Xanax. What will my nickname be on the blogosphere? Do housewives blog? Does that count as work? Ugh, revisit this later. 6:43 p.m.: Enter Limo. Make sure sari doesn’t fall down. Sari I’m not sari. 7:15 p.m.: Arrive at White House. Repeat mantra: You belong here, you belong here, you belong here, you belong here. Sing it to the tune of a God Bless America. Still not sari. 7:19 p.m.: Revised Mantra: You are invited. It just got lost in the mail. Repeat this till you start to believe it. Whatever, I need to be famous. 7:30 p.m.: Biden pic!!! Can’t wait to mupload this. Potential album title: “Biden’ our time on the way to fame.” God, Michaele, you are the wittiest. Is “Mi¢haele” a trendy way to spell my name? 7:36 p.m.: Catch a glimpse of Michelle Obama. We’ll probably be BFFs once I’m famous if she’s not too jealous of me. Fab. 7:50 p.m.: This chicken is rubbery. Good. Eating is for the nonfamous. Ew, my husband is eating. I hope I don’t get the smell of food on me. 8:02 p.m.: Is the secret service guy looking at me? No, Mi¢haele, you just look amazing (and famous). Everyone is probably looking at you. Or maybe the president. No, definitely you. 9:05 p.m.: Champagne is getting to you. Time to call it a night. Put on a fierce face as you exit (great for the opening montage). Snap a selfie in the limo home for the blog. Gotta keep it real for your fans. 10:15 p.m.: Sleep and dream of Mi¢haele Salahi in lights.
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