As I excitedly watched Tru Stories & Page Turner's Oprah episode last night, I spent some 48 minutes scanning the crowd furiously for a shot that would capture the pure exhilaration that was surely radiating from their faces. As I told Page Turner via blog comment: dreams really do come true, and my already happy heart at their good fortune would have swelled even more if I could have just seen them in the audience. At the point that Tom Hanks & Julia Roberts revealed their favorite things, I thought for sure that this was my chance. Instead, like a giant knife to the heart, I see a smug looking Jill Zarin right there in one of the front rows.
For those of you not addicted to questionable reality television like yours truly, Jill Zarin is one of the "housewives" of New York (quotations used because most of the women featured on this show either have jobs outside the home that keep them away for 18 hours a day, employee multiple nannies/chefs/housekeepers/stylists/makeup artists to keep their daily lives running smoothly, and jet set to exotic vacations on a whim - none of which are descriptors that match my admittedly old school definition of a housewife). I have no doubts that she's probably lucky enough to attend some of the same soirees as many big time, legit stars on her own. To see her in the audience of one of Oprah's last shows taking up a seat that one of the real loyal fans pine for was enough to made my blood boil.
A little internet searching revealed she obviously knows how to play the game.
Lunch with Nate Berkus, perhaps getting him to redesign your already immaculate home with his impeccable style all in the name of getting a coveted ticket to Oprah? Well played, Jill Zarin. Well played.
Luckily I know some people with a new espresso machine. Maybe a small glass will help ease me down off this ledge of desperation and despair.