Cast Blog: #RHONY

Not My Smoothest Hour

Ramona on Her Divorce From Mario

Carole on Elitists and Bitches

Heather Says That's a Wrap

Sonja: Don't Take Yourself Too Seriously

The Countess: Sonja and I Are on the Outs

Aviva Says Bye for Now

Kristen on Surviving Her First Season

LuAnn: For Ramona Ignorance Is Bliss

Who Cares How Carole Wrote Her Book?

Carole on Stupid Things You've Heard on Bravo

Aviva's "Foul Ignorance"

Kristen: Ramona's Out of Touch with Reality

Sonja Is Very Private

Ramona on the Grueling Reunion

LuAnn: Sonja Is Off the Rails

Heather: Et tu Ramona Singer?

Aviva on Kristen's "Gatemouth" Look

Kristen: Sonja Could Be Successful

Sonja's Glad Aviva Threw Her Leg

Carole: Waiter, We're Done

Ramona: Aviva's Leg Scared All of Us

Heather Focuses on What Matters

LuAnn: Sonja Only Has Herself to Blame

What Else Does Aviva Have in That Bag?

Aviva: Leggy Blonde

God Gave me a Great Ass and His Approval

Sonja on Her Harry Situation with LuAnn

Ramona: Where Did the Time Go With Avery?

Heather Tips to Plan a Party for Carole

Aviva Rises Above the Nonsense

Love Kristen Tender

Sonja and Harry Aren't Good for Each Other

Ramona: Mario's Voice Is So Sexy

Aviva Defends Her Asthma

Heather's Sasha Fierce Moment

Nothing Is Too Romantic for Sonja

LuAnn: I Sing When I Feel Like Singing

Kristen: This Show Has Helped My Marriage

Carole: Oh Beautiful for Spacious Skies. . .

Ramona: Just Don't Ask Me to Go Every Year

Not My Smoothest Hour

Alex reflects on her confrontation with Jill.

 

Before I jump into this week’s episode, here’s a taste of what’s going on in our lives right now. We just updated our family website with new content and are out and about on our book tour for Little Kids Big City -- we hope that if you’re thinking about what to buy a mom for Mother’s Day, you’ll get her a book that’s not preachy, that’s lighthearted and fun…ours!

Now, the episode! Oh, what an interesting one. Not my smoothest hour, but it can’t be undone, it’s on film and I’m not sorry it happened. Let’s explore how I got there.

Over the years, I’ve become more and more frustrated by Jill’s behavior, to me specifically and to others in general. Her manner of jumping in and taking over nearly every situation she is in really grates on you after a while. I experienced a build up of annoyance with her constant comments, first about me, my husband and children, but then also about Bethenny, Bethenny and Jason, Bethenny and work, Bethenny and whether or not she might be engaged or pregnant or in LA or on Mars. If Jill wanted to know what was going on with Bethenny, she should have picked up the phone and called Bethenny. Not me, not the girls, just her.

At any rate, when Bethenny called to tell me that the rumors were true, it was after we’d texted back and forth about the Perez nonsense. In between, Jill called me, not even to say “hello” but purely pumping me for information. It was obnoxious, and I told her I didn’t know anything.

You know, when you tell people you’re pregnant, you want them to jump up and down and scream and hug you. You don’t particularly want a lecture. Nor do you want an estranged former pal calling up the press and making statements on your behalf. Last I checked, Jill Zarin is not Bethenny’s publicist. How about, “Congratulations, I’m happy for you!” or “Mazel tov!” or something positive? The reality of life is that when you get pregnant, particularly if you’re a size 0, other women who have had babies are going to figure it out pretty quickly since they know what the signs are. At the Gotham party, B was busty and glowing, and some people asked if she was expecting. Although I told myself at the time it was because of the engagement, it was probably only a matter of time before people started guessing. My question is, how did that make it OK for Jill to speak to the press on Bethenny’s behalf without even talking to her about it first?

 

I was angry. I was angry at Jill myself anyway, and I was livid when I heard Bethenny, at one of the most vulnerable points in her life thus far, was upset by Jill as well. I wanted to do something that would stop Jill in her tracks and get her to listen for once, and maybe, just maybe realize that life isn’t all about her.

Over this season alone, LuAnn has acted as Jill’s messenger to Bethenny, and also tried to get Ramona to speak to Mario on her behalf, so there’s plenty of message delivery flying around. Should I have agreed to “deliver Bethenny’s message” and done it the way I did? Eh, perhaps, perhaps not. Certainly I would have liked for it to have gone more smoothly. I didn’t expect that Bethenny was sending Ramona a delivery, the bottle of wine, to the same party – prior to that I had planned to pull Jill aside and tell her privately. Once that happened, I knew that if I didn’t spit it out, the words weren’t coming out and I really wanted Jill to hear me – she never listens, or only listens for a nano-second, long enough to form her own opinion and shoot back at you or smother you with apologies. She didn’t even want to listen to me then, and there I was breaking out in hives…so I blurted it out.

Most of the time when people annoy me, I cut them out of my life or just ignore them. I don’t feel this overwhelming need to be understood or liked by everyone; if people don’t get me, it’s their loss. When you keep seeing someone over and over again, whether because of the show or the circle of friends, etc., you get to a point where you have to speak up because otherwise people make assumptions about you. Some people assume that because I rarely cause confrontation, that I lack the cojones to do so. Wrong. I have a long fuse and don’t really care what people say ... to a point. My fuse started to blow when Bethenny and I were on the phone, and that was the beginning. There’s more where that came from ... stay tuned.

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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