QUESTION: How did that nut case Octomom, who has zero finances, manage to hire p.r.? Considering one reason for a chorus line of kids is so you can’t go to work and earn money, how could this certified wack job have gone for the doctor’s fees or paid for so much Botox, collagen and/or Goodyear that she now has lips thicker than Oprah‘s behind? Was it the barter system? What might she have bartered? She says she hasn’t had sex. Monica Lewinsky might recall B. Clinton said the same thing. Whaaatt?!

MANY moons before Michael Phelps was swimming in praise or drowning in p.r., the would-be Olympic athlete was a consultant with Rosetta Stone, a software language company. Phelps spoke water sports, and his small, maybe $10,000-a-year, contract was up Dec. 31. Had not gold medals and big bongs come into his life, they feel he’d have reupped. However, they also feel that, due to his bad-boy habits, they wouldn’t want him back. As if he’d have repeated this piddling deal with this middling operation now that he’s famous, right? Both sides need a good smack.

TOMORROW, Bravo’s “The Real Housewives of New York City” revolves a catfight around little pussycat me. The hissyfit begins when a New York Post is dropped at a doorstep. “Housewife” Bethenny Frankel reads my column, which actually deals with when “co-housewife” Jill Zarin bitched to me about fellow “housewife” Alex McCord, whom she for sure for sure does not like in real life or reel life or the next life. I reported that last June. Who knew they’d incorporate it into a script?

Per this segment, Bethenny’s jaw drops. She screams to Jill, whereupon they both laugh maniacally. In the next scene, as cameras roll, they phone Alex. After hanging me out to dry everybody hangs up. And, although it’s 48 degrees outside as I write this, ice begins to form.

Catch it tomorrow night.