Hey Bravo! Hey ABC! Look over here! Mouthy Mommy fans you could learn something too, so pay attention.I would like everyone to put their listening caps on and focus. I am going to start by giving a short vocabulary lesson.
Websters Dictionary defines these terms as follows:
Real-
•being or occurring in fact or actuality; having verified existence; not illusory.
Desperate-
•despairing: arising from or marked by despair or loss of hope.
Housewife-
•a wife who manages a household while her husband earns the family income.
**Now let's take a look at how Bravo and ABC define them.
•being or occurring in fact or actuality; having verified existence; not illusory.
Desperate-
•despairing: arising from or marked by despair or loss of hope.
Housewife-
•a wife who manages a household while her husband earns the family income.
**Now let's take a look at how Bravo and ABC define them.
Real-
• Any thing that contains a pulse and is capable of drawing in TV viewers.
Desperate-
• A term that describes someone who wants to be famous so badly that they will air their dirty laundry for all the world to see, regardless of how stupid, self absorbed, or arrogant it makes them look.
Housewife-
• A rich, middle aged, working woman.
As you can plainly see, there is a difference between the two sets of definitions. It's not that I don't enjoy watching a few episodes of Desperate Housewives and The Real Housewives of Who Gives a Sh#$ when I get the chance, because I do. I just feel that the titles are misleading and nothing more than a bait and switch. When I tell someone I'm a housewife, I don't want them comparing me to those women. I say call the show what it is, Middle Aged Woman Having Sex, Fighting and Seeking Fame. Don't name it after the people who watch it. It would have been like naming Star Trek, Geeky Virgins Living in Their Mother's Basement. See what I'm saying now? It's stupid!
Alright, enough ranting. It's time for me to put up or shut up; and you know what I'm choosing. I would like to give you a glimpse into a day in the life of a real desperate housewife. Though it is not as exciting as a bunch of Botoxed crypt keepers marching around in high priced couture and fighting over whose fashion line will bomb first or who gets to rape the pool boy; I feel the truly desperate real housewives deserve their 15 minutes too.
My day as a housewife.- by Jennie Nadler Milechman
I woke up this morning at 7 am. The baby was screaming in his room and my husband was already out the door for the day. I pulled the covers over my head and ignored the baby until his screams turned into sobs. I consider it my version of hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock. When I could no longer take the crying, I threw my feet on the floor and stumbled around looking for my robe. To my dismay, I found the robe balled up under my sleeping mutt. Feeling as though someone in my house should be allowed the luxury of sleeping in, I left her to snooze and marched across my house in my usual summer bed time attire; granny panties and a tattered tank-top. As I shuffled through the house I could see the morning sun glaring in through the open blinds. I know what you must be thinking... "Are you not worried about the neighbors seeing you through the window half naked?" And the answer is; who cares! As a general rule I try to never make friends or even casually associate with my neighbors. Neighbors are nosey, they always want to borrow crap and the only reason they want to hang out with you is so that they can see what the inside of your house looks like. I say F-em. Now let's get back to the story... I grabbed my snot covered kid from behind the gate in his doorway and placed him on my hip. His diaper was dry enough to last him at least one more hour, so I tossed him on the couch and let him watch cartoons, while I sprinted into the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee. As I sat sipping my Folgers and jotting down a list of house work that I needed to finish before my husband came home, I spotted my pool geezer. Real housewives don't have sexy gardeners and young Latin pool boys. I have a 40 year old toothless workhorse mow my lawn and my Pool geezer is pushing 65. Pool geezer always shows up to my house shirtless. On this day the sunlight was reflecting off the sweat beading in his chest hair, and his cotton gym pants hung loosely on his hips, exposing just enough butt crack to make me want to jam my list writing pencil into my eye sockets. Seeing him working out in the yard, looking so unattractive, made me realize that it was time to throw on my valour track suit and get my day started.
Now dressed, I decided to challenge myself and surf the web for grocery bargains. After spotting that my local grocer was having a buy one get one extravaganza, it was time to dress my munchkin and do a little food shopping. It turns out that munchkin was ripe and in need of more than just a wardrobe change, which would have been fine except I had run out of baby wipes. I shuffled into the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth. I did this while calling loudly to him "Don't move or you'll fall off the changing table." Lucky for me he obeyed. Once he was clean we ran to the store and stocked up on condiments and minute rice. Oh, how I love buy one get one.There's nothing like buying double the crap you don't eat because half of it is free. Anyway, when we got back home and unloaded the groceries, it was time for lunch. I nuked a hot dog and chopped it into a million bite sized pieces. Good TV or not, there would be no choking deaths on my watch, I can promise you that.
With lunch time over and death free, it was time for a nap. As usual, I fell asleep before my kid and I'm guessing he was out a few minutes later. We both awoke at 4 pm, which left me just enough time to toss in a few loads of wash and sweep the dog hair off the floor before my husband arrived home. The most important part of being a housewife is creating the illusion that you are busy and working on the house all day long for your husband. That's why I always wait to finish up my work until he walks through the door. Then when he starts whining about how hard his day was I can combat it with "I know what you mean. I had so much going on I didn't get my work finished until just now. What a day!" NEVER, mention the nap. NEVER! I'm starting to think a TV show would screw me, because it will out my secrets..hmm...I guess this story will too. Oh wait, my husband doesn't read my blog and he hates reality TV. Crisis averted, back to the story.
When my hard working, bread winning husband enters our home for the night, it's time for dinner. Lucky for him Frosted Flakes were buy one get one. This housewife doesn't cook but maybe Bravo or ABC can cast me a friend that does. No matter what trash I feed my husband, I always make sure my kid has a nutritious meal. Mainly because he's not old enough to make the choice for himself to treat his body like a dumpster. I figure while I'm responsible for his well being, the least I can do is make sure he eats healthy. When dinner is done we have a little family time. We watch TV together, read books to the kid, play some kid games and sometimes play outside in the back yard. We stay away from the front yard. Neighbors like to use small children as conversation starters. Like I said before, I'm not interested. Look at how being neighborly screwed the Desperate Housewives. No thank you!
After family play time, it's time for the munchkin to get a bath. Because I have such a long day with him, baths are my husband's job. I use that time to smoke cigarettes and chat on the phone with my childless friends that live much more exciting lives than me. When bath time is over, I toss my kiddo into my bed for a night time movie. He watches quietly for an hour and a half and I get some quiet time with my husband. I mean "quiet time" literally. My husband and I keep talking to a minimum during that time. We find it helps to take a breather before we start dumping our day on one another. Also, it prevents our kid from hearing us argue. Trust me, there's nothing worse than hearing your two-year-old mimic your potty mouth.
When the movie ends, I round up my kid and put him to bed. I read him a short story and tuck him in while my husband flips through the channels on the big screen. Bed time is always my gig and that's fine with me. It's quicker than bath time. With munchkin drifting off into dreamland my husband and I rehash our day and watch a little cable programming. When 10 pm rolls around, we stumble to bed and debate on whether or not to "do it." Not always wins and we shut our eyes for the night, only to wake up the next morning and do it all again.
**So, What do you think? I tried to make it reality TV and instead it turned out like a short story. Can't teach an old housewife new tricks I guess. Just in case though, I want ABC and Bravo to know that my contact info can be found on the Mouthy Mavens Facebook page. Not that I want to pigeonhole myself, any of the other cable stations will do. In fact, I may just have someone follow me around with a camcorder and post it all on you tube. You never know what a real desperate housewife will do...
• Any thing that contains a pulse and is capable of drawing in TV viewers.
Desperate-
• A term that describes someone who wants to be famous so badly that they will air their dirty laundry for all the world to see, regardless of how stupid, self absorbed, or arrogant it makes them look.
Housewife-
• A rich, middle aged, working woman.
As you can plainly see, there is a difference between the two sets of definitions. It's not that I don't enjoy watching a few episodes of Desperate Housewives and The Real Housewives of Who Gives a Sh#$ when I get the chance, because I do. I just feel that the titles are misleading and nothing more than a bait and switch. When I tell someone I'm a housewife, I don't want them comparing me to those women. I say call the show what it is, Middle Aged Woman Having Sex, Fighting and Seeking Fame. Don't name it after the people who watch it. It would have been like naming Star Trek, Geeky Virgins Living in Their Mother's Basement. See what I'm saying now? It's stupid!
Alright, enough ranting. It's time for me to put up or shut up; and you know what I'm choosing. I would like to give you a glimpse into a day in the life of a real desperate housewife. Though it is not as exciting as a bunch of Botoxed crypt keepers marching around in high priced couture and fighting over whose fashion line will bomb first or who gets to rape the pool boy; I feel the truly desperate real housewives deserve their 15 minutes too.
My day as a housewife.- by Jennie Nadler Milechman
I woke up this morning at 7 am. The baby was screaming in his room and my husband was already out the door for the day. I pulled the covers over my head and ignored the baby until his screams turned into sobs. I consider it my version of hitting the snooze button on the alarm clock. When I could no longer take the crying, I threw my feet on the floor and stumbled around looking for my robe. To my dismay, I found the robe balled up under my sleeping mutt. Feeling as though someone in my house should be allowed the luxury of sleeping in, I left her to snooze and marched across my house in my usual summer bed time attire; granny panties and a tattered tank-top. As I shuffled through the house I could see the morning sun glaring in through the open blinds. I know what you must be thinking... "Are you not worried about the neighbors seeing you through the window half naked?" And the answer is; who cares! As a general rule I try to never make friends or even casually associate with my neighbors. Neighbors are nosey, they always want to borrow crap and the only reason they want to hang out with you is so that they can see what the inside of your house looks like. I say F-em. Now let's get back to the story... I grabbed my snot covered kid from behind the gate in his doorway and placed him on my hip. His diaper was dry enough to last him at least one more hour, so I tossed him on the couch and let him watch cartoons, while I sprinted into the kitchen to fetch a cup of coffee. As I sat sipping my Folgers and jotting down a list of house work that I needed to finish before my husband came home, I spotted my pool geezer. Real housewives don't have sexy gardeners and young Latin pool boys. I have a 40 year old toothless workhorse mow my lawn and my Pool geezer is pushing 65. Pool geezer always shows up to my house shirtless. On this day the sunlight was reflecting off the sweat beading in his chest hair, and his cotton gym pants hung loosely on his hips, exposing just enough butt crack to make me want to jam my list writing pencil into my eye sockets. Seeing him working out in the yard, looking so unattractive, made me realize that it was time to throw on my valour track suit and get my day started.
Now dressed, I decided to challenge myself and surf the web for grocery bargains. After spotting that my local grocer was having a buy one get one extravaganza, it was time to dress my munchkin and do a little food shopping. It turns out that munchkin was ripe and in need of more than just a wardrobe change, which would have been fine except I had run out of baby wipes. I shuffled into the bathroom and grabbed a wet washcloth. I did this while calling loudly to him "Don't move or you'll fall off the changing table." Lucky for me he obeyed. Once he was clean we ran to the store and stocked up on condiments and minute rice. Oh, how I love buy one get one.There's nothing like buying double the crap you don't eat because half of it is free. Anyway, when we got back home and unloaded the groceries, it was time for lunch. I nuked a hot dog and chopped it into a million bite sized pieces. Good TV or not, there would be no choking deaths on my watch, I can promise you that.
With lunch time over and death free, it was time for a nap. As usual, I fell asleep before my kid and I'm guessing he was out a few minutes later. We both awoke at 4 pm, which left me just enough time to toss in a few loads of wash and sweep the dog hair off the floor before my husband arrived home. The most important part of being a housewife is creating the illusion that you are busy and working on the house all day long for your husband. That's why I always wait to finish up my work until he walks through the door. Then when he starts whining about how hard his day was I can combat it with "I know what you mean. I had so much going on I didn't get my work finished until just now. What a day!" NEVER, mention the nap. NEVER! I'm starting to think a TV show would screw me, because it will out my secrets..hmm...I guess this story will too. Oh wait, my husband doesn't read my blog and he hates reality TV. Crisis averted, back to the story.
When my hard working, bread winning husband enters our home for the night, it's time for dinner. Lucky for him Frosted Flakes were buy one get one. This housewife doesn't cook but maybe Bravo or ABC can cast me a friend that does. No matter what trash I feed my husband, I always make sure my kid has a nutritious meal. Mainly because he's not old enough to make the choice for himself to treat his body like a dumpster. I figure while I'm responsible for his well being, the least I can do is make sure he eats healthy. When dinner is done we have a little family time. We watch TV together, read books to the kid, play some kid games and sometimes play outside in the back yard. We stay away from the front yard. Neighbors like to use small children as conversation starters. Like I said before, I'm not interested. Look at how being neighborly screwed the Desperate Housewives. No thank you!
After family play time, it's time for the munchkin to get a bath. Because I have such a long day with him, baths are my husband's job. I use that time to smoke cigarettes and chat on the phone with my childless friends that live much more exciting lives than me. When bath time is over, I toss my kiddo into my bed for a night time movie. He watches quietly for an hour and a half and I get some quiet time with my husband. I mean "quiet time" literally. My husband and I keep talking to a minimum during that time. We find it helps to take a breather before we start dumping our day on one another. Also, it prevents our kid from hearing us argue. Trust me, there's nothing worse than hearing your two-year-old mimic your potty mouth.
When the movie ends, I round up my kid and put him to bed. I read him a short story and tuck him in while my husband flips through the channels on the big screen. Bed time is always my gig and that's fine with me. It's quicker than bath time. With munchkin drifting off into dreamland my husband and I rehash our day and watch a little cable programming. When 10 pm rolls around, we stumble to bed and debate on whether or not to "do it." Not always wins and we shut our eyes for the night, only to wake up the next morning and do it all again.
**So, What do you think? I tried to make it reality TV and instead it turned out like a short story. Can't teach an old housewife new tricks I guess. Just in case though, I want ABC and Bravo to know that my contact info can be found on the Mouthy Mavens Facebook page. Not that I want to pigeonhole myself, any of the other cable stations will do. In fact, I may just have someone follow me around with a camcorder and post it all on you tube. You never know what a real desperate housewife will do...
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