Cast Blog: #RHONY

Why Men Are Just Happier

Mario responds to negative comments he's received from viewers.

 

I must say it was very interesting to see the various responses to my last blog. Many of you appreciated the humor, but I would like to address a couple of comments that I received from a number of people.

First is my comment about LuAnn’s impending divorce that was written about in the media. Some of you thought I was “mean spirited” or striking a “low blow." However, if some thought is given to this, LuAnn could actually help couples who are faced with what often becomes a very ugly experience. When married couples decide to end their relationship, they often resort to some insane behavior and not only accuse each other of horrible acts, but fight over some of the least important possessions that have been accumulated during their years of marriage. Driven by their attorneys, the accusations begin to fly, the feelings of their children are forgotten and civil behavior goes out the window. I think it would be very helpful for someone to address this issue and offer people a way of facing this difficult process with dignity and grace during a time when they are at their worst. I hope that if LuAnn does decide to write about her experience she will at least give me an acknowledgement for coming up with the idea.

Next is the question about my faith or lack thereof. I’m not sure what this has to do with a reality show, but the answer is yes, I am a Christian and member of the Catholic faith. I regularly attend church and when in Southampton I enjoy the 9:30AM children’s mass given by Father Jeff at Sacred Heart of Jesus and Mary. I love some of the responses that children give to his questions. The church is magnificent with amazing stained glass windows. My daughter Avery was baptized there and I hope that one day (not very soon) she will be married there as well. I strongly believe in the power of prayer no matter what faith one practices.

 

Now that I got all that off my chest, last night’s show proved to be relatively free of drama except for Kelly’s being very late to her own party. And what was that cash bar about? Ramona and I had also been invited to attend but our good friends had a Halloween party way uptown and it would have been difficult to go to both parties, especially with the traffic that is in the city on that night. Seems like we made the right decision as the party we went to was terrific with amazing décor, wonderful food and an OPEN BAR! Bobby and Jill also were invited and they finally arrived after wasting their time going downtown to Kelly’s no show affair. I loved their costumes and Bobby looked great as Napoleon. Now if he could only be more authoritative with Jill. If you were wondering, I was dressed as a buccaneer.

OK, now for my humor. I hope you enjoy this and I know most of you are women so please do not write that I am a chauvinist. Please pass it on to your boyfriends or husbands. I’m sure they will get a kick out of it.

WHY MEN ARE JUST HAPPIER

Nicknames:
If Laura, Kate and Sarah go out for lunch, they will call each other Laura, Kate and Sarah.

If Mike, Dave and John go out, they will affectionately refer to each other as Fat Boy, Godzilla and Four Eyes.

Eating Out:
When the bill arrives, the guys will each throw in $20, even though it’s only for $32.00. None of them will have anything smaller and none will actually admit they want change back.

When the girls get their bill, out come the pocket calculators.

Money:
A man will pay $2 for a $1 item he needs.

A women will pay $1 for a $2 item that she doesn’t need but it’s on sale.

Bathrooms:
A man has six items in his bathroom: toothbrush and toothpaste, shaving cream, razor a bar of soap and a towel.

The average number of items in the typical woman’s bathroom is 350. A man would not be able to identify more than 20 of these items.

Arguments:
A woman has the last word in any argument.

Anything a man says after that is the beginning of a new argument.

Future:
A successful man is one who makes more money that his wife can spend. (Bring any cast member to mind?)

A successful woman is one who can find such a man. (Bring any cast member to mind?) Hint: they are married to each other.

Marriage:
A woman marries a man expecting he will change, but he doesn’t.

A man marries a woman expecting that she won’t change, but she does.

Natural:
Men wake up as good-looking as they went to bed.

Women somehow deteriorate during the night.

Offspring:
Ah, children. A woman knows all about her children. She knows about the doctor appointments and romances, best friends, favorite foods, secret fears and hope and dreams.

A man is vaguely aware of some short people living in the house.

Thought For the Day:
A married man should forget his mistakes. There is no use in two people remembering the same thing!

All the best.
Mario

Carole on Elitists and Bitches

Carole says what she really thinks of Aviva and all of her talk about her book and things being "ghetto."

Dear Fans,

Let me start with something I stole it from Twitter this week. "The most dangerous liars are those who think they are telling the truth."

I'll say it again. The blonde at the end of the right couch, the one who's prone to lobbing limbs and insults, is an Insulting. Bitch. Some of you didn't believe me. Maybe some of you still don't. But after watching the reunion shows I imagine it's harder and harder to cheer for the anti-hero. Just when you think she can't get any faker she does.

The story according to Aviva makes me laugh: We were arguing, she insulted me, I called her a psychopath and that prompted her to affectionately compliment me on my age. Sure. Her disdain for the intelligence of the audience is palpable. It was too stupid for me to even reply. But as I was watching the reunion, and particularly Aviva and the way she treats people, I was reminded of something my Grandma Millie used to say. (I love everything Grandma Millie used to say.) "At 25, you have the face you're born with. At 45 you have the face you deserve."

I'd rather be 50 and me than be 45 and Aviva, any day of the week. She aged worse this season than a president in his first term. Holy short dress, I don't mind at all how I look. Overbite and all. I'll take it.

When I first met Aviva she was lovely. Really lovely. I meant what I said on the couch, I wish we had seen more of that. Her easy laugh and funny neurotic ways. Instead all we saw was a mean and angry woman. All because I asked her if she hired a writer -- a writer she did hire. It makes no sense. Three years ago she told me she'd read my memoir, What Remains. This was a book published in 2006 about my childhood, my family, my career and marriage, and then the death of my husband, Anthony Radziwill. A man I loved more than anyone I had loved before or have loved since. She gushed over my book. She quoted from it. We hugged. She seemed so sincere. Flash forward and she now believes it was written by a ghostwriter. She even knew his name, and it wasn't Truman Capote. It was Bill Whitworth, she told me. She repeated this over and over to anyone who would listen. And it doesn't matter how many times she repeats it -- it will never make it true.

When they stopped listening she started saying in the press and on social media that not only was my book written by someone else but that it was not my place to have written a book about my life, and my marriage. And, as if I didn't remember, she reminded me that I'd written about people who had died. Um, yeah. I know. It was my husband and my family and my closest friend who died. Just. . .wow. But I wasn't important enough to tell my story because my husband's family was famous, or historic or whatever she said. Because they had money and privilege and yachts. Really. Who do I think I am?

I’ll tell you. I’m a girl from upstate New York who grew up in a loving, if sometimes kooky, Italian working class family. I worked for everything I earned, just like my parents did and their parents before them. I have a proud family history of hard work and small but precious rewards that followed. My family won't be in any history books. I didn't grow up privileged. We didn't spend summers in Europe or Christmas in Palm Beach. A day spent at the town pool or playing in the woods behind our house was great. Much like Heather, I was taught strong values and decent manners. I learned to live with integrity and honesty. I'm proud of my upbringing and the woman I became, as was my husband. As is his family to this very day. I've known people who lived in what Aviva would consider the "ghetto" who have more class and decency than she shows.

All this talk about class and ghetto -- you'd think we were living in communist Russia. Here is the thing. This is America. In our country it doesn't matter a lick where you are from, it only matters where you're going. So don’t let anyone tell you that you aren't good enough because you didn’t grow up on Park Avenue or in a family that had some history, or because you enjoy saying mother-f---er now and then. I’ve met people from all walks of life. I spent time in refugee camps in Southeast Asia, and in the projects of Chicago. I've been to State dinners with Presidents. I met the Queen of England on a beach in Anguilla. No one is any more valuable or important than you are. No one is more important than your family and your friends.

Let the elitists go slow into the night.

In spite of the BookGate dust up I had a great time this season. I made wonderful new friends in LuAnn and Kristen and my friendship with Heather is more special and important to me than I could have ever imagined just three years ago. Friends have each other's backs. I love her, madly. And while we didn't always act appropriately, we had a lot of laughs. I hope you did too.

Thank you all for your supportive and funny and brilliant tweets. And while we didn't all agree on everything all of the time I enjoyed your participation in the show. Even the mean tweets about my skinny neck and my overbite were amusing. Like I said, I've stolen some tweets already. You may see others as dialogue in my next book, and yes, you can all say you were my ghostwriters.

As always,

With love, Writer Girl xoxo

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