Where's MY reality show?

I live in an expensive neighborhood, after all. And my life - as this rare glimpse behind my usual veil of privacy will demonstrate - is scintillating.

Audrina-esque, even.

Call it Dishwater Blonde Middle-Class Mafia *

6 p.m. I leave my job as a Power Player in Montgomery County. I walk towards the Metro only to be attacked by...a downpour of monsoon proportions.

6:15 p.m. I duck for cover in the nearby Safeway. As a Cultural Connoisseur, I pick up the latest issues of In Touch and Harper's Bazaar in case it's a long wait under the awning. Chat with neighbor from shop down the street.

6:30 p.m. My Fashion Sophisticate ensemble from H&M drenched by the downpour, I board the Metro for Friendship Heights/Mazza Gallerie.

7 p.m. As a Philanthropic Leader, every so often I Rub Elbows With Prominent People and try not to look like a hussy while doing so. This guides my shopping mission of finding a little Washingtonian shawl or jacket to wear over a sundress for an upcoming dinner.

7:45 p.m. The only thing that doesn't make me look cougar or Amish is $900. Empty handed, I Easily Move to the Diverse Social Circles of my apartment building.

8 p.m. Now changed into Steve & Barry sweats, I pop a workout DVD into the computer and flip the tv back and forth between Olberman and EuroNews.

8:30 p.m. Watching an expose on the plight of the Roma people during my crunch routine is just too much. I flip around for lighter fare, only to find...a "Real Housewives" marathon.


* The Sicilian ancestors will be proud.