Are you ready for your close-up, LaVeta?

WHEN FELLOW Daily News columnist Jenice Armstrong appeared on my radio show to say that a "Real Housewives" spinoff was a possibility for Philadelphia, I thought it was cute.

I mean, who could resist the possibility of producer Princess Ann Banton-Lofters creating "Housewives" madness right here in the cradle of liberty? We could have our very own NeNe Leakes, the perfect mix of cute and crazy, from "Real Housewives of Atlanta." More important, we could put our own spin on the brand.

Our star housewife could be an Eagles fan, and begin every show by belting some chick in a Giants jersey while sipping Olde English 800 from a brandy snifter. Or she could end each show by singing the theme song from "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" while cruising West Philly in a hot-pink Bentley.

She wouldn't be plastic-surgery chic, like Kim Zolciak, who ate pizza while undergoing laser fat-removal treatments. Nor would she start wig-pulling catfights like the oh-so-classy Sheree Whitfield. But at least she'd be real. I guess that's what bothered me about Princess Ann Banton-Lofter's visit to Philly. I felt like she didn't do her due diligence.

If she had, she would've called the most written about housewife in Philadelphia. That's right, boys and girls. She would've called my wife, LaVeta.

Just one day in her life would expose NeNe and the rest of them as mere pretenders to the housewife throne.

That's why I'm going to put together my own camera crew, complete with extras who can stage one fight per show. Then I'm gonna yell, "Action!" and let my wife show those TV chicks how to maintain a fabulous lifestyle by saving money on everyday stuff.

We could call our pilot episode "The Ritual."

The episode begins with a fade-in on a dark room. LaVeta's face is bathed in the glow of her computer. The dress she's been watching for a month is finally on sale. We get a tight shot of her trembling finger pushing the "buy" button. A day later, the UPS guy delivers the package, she finds a slight imperfection and she sends the dress back the next day, only to order it again.

Once our pilot is approved - and we know it will be - we'll film our next episode, "Cheap Gas." It begins with a wide shot of LaVeta driving to the back of a big-box shopping club and passing her membership card to the gas-station attendant. We cut to a shot of the super-low prices on generic fuel. LaVeta gets her gas and drives away happily. Then everything goes wrong.

The camera cuts to her speedometer, then quickly back to her face as she realizes that the cheap gas is preventing her car from accelerating. As the engine knocks and pings, her husband, Solomon, calls on the phone, hears the sound of the engine and immediately knows what she's done.

"LaVeta, I told you to stop buying that cheap gas."

And that's when the argument begins. By the time it's over, it's no longer about the gas. It's about everything Solomon did wrong in August 1997.

That brings us to Episode 3, where LaVeta joins forces with our daughter, Eve, to make cotton candy at Little Solomon's school carnival. There's just one problem: LaVeta's too fabulous for that. The whole thing devolves into something out of an "I Love Lucy" episode, with mother and daughter failing to master the red-hot cotton-candy machine. But even after the machine leaves LaVeta with third-degree knuckle burns, she treats her wounds in style - with a Louis Vuitton scarf she got on sale.

From managing a 150-kid school trip on public transportation to buying gas on the cheap, LaVeta can show these people how real housewives truly do it. That's why I'm not gonna wait for Princess what's-her-name to make my wife a star. I'm gonna do it myself, and then we'll see what real housewives are all about.