Real Housewives Of New York: Drama Erupts After Super Bowl Post

Jill Zarin had three passions in life: fabulous fabric, fabulous friends, and saying exactly what was on her mind — preferably on camera.

So when Super Bowl Sunday rolled around, Jill was ready. She had her cheese board arranged in color-coordinated sections, her throw pillows fluffed to maximum luxury, and her phone charged to a spiritually significant 100%. This was going to be a relaxing evening.

Then Bad Bunny’s halftime show began.

The performance was electric. Dancers everywhere. Lights. Culture. Energy. The internet was collectively losing its mind.

Jill, however, was squinting at the TV like it had personally offended her.

“Is it just me,” she said aloud to no one in particular, “or is this very… energetic?”

Her phone — her lifelong frenemy — sat beside her. And that’s when it happened. The Fatal Scroll. She opened Instagram.

Ten minutes later, Jill was live.

Love Entertainment? Get more! Join the 97.9 The Box Newsletter

This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

Subscribe

We care about your data. See our privacy policy.

“Well… I have thoughts,” she began, in the tone of someone about to rearrange your living room without asking. She shared her “observations.” She gestured dramatically. At one point she accidentally activated a filter that gave her sparkly eyelashes but continued talking anyway.

Meanwhile, the internet did what the internet does best: screen record.

Within minutes, Jill’s video was being dissected like a frog in middle school science class. Group chats exploded. Memes were born at lightning speed. Someone edited her face onto a disco ball. It was chaos.

Her phone rang.

“Jill,” said a very calm, very corporate voice from the network, “about The Golden Life…”

“What about it? I already picked out three reunion outfits.”

“Yes, well. We think your life may need… less golden right now.”

There was a pause.

“You’re firing me over Instagram?” Jill gasped. “I’ve survived table flips! I’ve survived Pinot Grigio! And this is what takes me out?”

By morning, Jill had posted an apology, deleted the video, reposted the apology with better lighting, and texted approximately 47 people asking, “Do you think this will blow over?”

It did not blow over.

But in true Jill fashion, she rallied. She ordered new throw pillows. She told friends, “Honestly, maybe this is the universe saying I deserve my own show.”

And somewhere in New York, Jill Zarin learned a valuable lesson:

Never go live during halftime.

Especially when the Wi-Fi is strong and the opinions are stronger.