Cast Blog: #RHONY

Snapped

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

Snapped

Ramona describes the dramatic events that transpired in St. John.

 

I did not tell the ladies our next stay would be at this amazing villa. When I saw the majestic villa jutting off the bluff I could not contain myself, I had to give it up. I am not a jaded person or overly impressed, but I have to say, this villa in St. John was beyond anything I had ever visited or seen. The cameras did not begin to do it justice. The workmanship and the attention to detail in the woodwork, stonework, and ironwork was amazing. It was not gaudy - it was completely elegant. I really was in awe and was looking forward to our time there. I was really surprised to see Kelly was feeling alone and was crying in her room to Jill. We all went out of our way to make her feel part of the group and comfortable. I sometimes feel she is at a different place than the rest of us. When we were on the yacht she was speaking to Jill three to four times a day and it was aggravating her. I think some of her agitation was due to Jill stirring her up.

At one point I got the feeling that Jill just might show up, so I shared my thoughts with Bethenny. I asked Bethenny what she would do if Jill showed up. Bethenny said that not only she would leave, but so would Alex. I do tend to get premonitions and if Jill was going to make a surprise entrance, I wanted to be prepared.

The day with Kelly on the beach was amazing. She prepared a great lunch and did a photo shoot of us. She was at ease in her own element and was a pleasure to be with. I really enjoyed the day with her. I am really glad to reacquainted with Sonja again. She always puts a smile on my face and helps to diffuse all the crazy situations. Sonja is a woman who enjoys life and has had the best that life offers. It was such a compliment when she put on the designs I do for HSN.  I must say, even though I am always wearing my designs it was great to see them on someone else to get a better perspective. It's like when you try on a pair of shoes and you're not sure if they are right, so you have your friend to try them on and then you realize how much you love them!

 

 

For dinner in St. John Bethenny prepared a magnificent meal. Her crab cakes are my favorite. Unfortunately Kelly would not allow anyone to get a word in edge wise so I went over to Bethenny and sat on the arm of her chair to tell her how sorry I was about lashing out on her on the Brooklyn Bridge. Something snapped in Kelly that night at dinner. I never witnessed anything like that before in my life. She was not making any sense. It was as if she had a mini-breakdown. I really do not know what caused it, but is was frightening to witness.

PS - Even though I am in Africa I still have to blog and stay in touch with all of you! Please see what I am up to in Africa on my blog at www.ramonasinger.com, and check out the camps where I am staying: www.andbeyond.com and www.wildernesssafari.com. Visit my Facebook fanpage to see pictures from the St. John's trip.

www.ramonasinger.com
www.hsn.com
www.truefaithjewelry.com
www.trurenewal.com

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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