Cast Blog: #RHONY

Taking the Bait

Alex explains why she wanted to salvage her relationship with Sonja, and discusses the Governors Island debacle.

One thing I can say for myself -- this time, I didn't take the bait. Last week, my head started spinning around, and I nearly fell off my Gucci heels when Sonja went after my husband. This time, I tried to do a little better. Did I succeed? You be the judge.

Obviously something had to happen -– she and I see each other constantly and newsflash we like each other! I have a lot more fun with Sonja than I do with other women who either take themselves way too seriously or backstab. . .so I didn't want to let this relationship sour over one -- okay, two –- moments of temporary insanity.

I invited Sonja for lunch and we got right down to it. I think I knew she would never see things from my perspective, and rather than forcing that, I suggested we drop it. She brought up Simon again, and her attitude regarding the proper behavior of husbands seemed a little old fashioned. Respect is earned, not automatic, and chivalry, while not dead, should not be blind. Enough, basta, finito…no more! We agreed to drop it and move on, and I,m happy to say we have done that. At Ramona's charity fashion show it was the first time Sonja and Simon had seen each other since my art party blowup with her, so there needed to be some kind of an acknowledgment for Simon, too. Although the group hug might have been a little awkward, it patched things up and everyone let it go because life is too short.

Watching Cindy (or housewives in any other cities) have nanny drama, made me grateful for ours, who has been with us nearly five years. We've had ups and downs, but most things we've been able to have a good laugh about later –- lots of that is in Chapter 6 of our book under "I Saw Your Nanny. . ."

Simon and I have been cheerleaders for Brooklyn since our show started, and now let us be the same for Governors Island -– it has only been open to the public for a few years and is 800 yards from Manhattan, which takes about seven minutes on a ferry to reach. It's a hidden gem in NYC that not many people know about yet, and home to artist residencies and all sorts of cool stuff. We had a fantastic day, and the only problem was that Kelly and Cindy arrived four hours late, just as the sun went away. It got cold, windy, and everyone was ready to leave. We didn't serve beer and wings either, which is the only reason I can imagine why Kelly wouldn't let Cindy eat. Moral of that story? If you're going to whine and complain, please do everyone else a favor and don't come. That aside, it was a great birthday and Simon outdid himself, fully surprising me with a day the chums and I will never forget. Some photos are here.

Speaking of Simon -– let's do that for a moment! I am so very, very proud of him. This week his webisodes debut on BravoTV.com, AND he is the first househusband to release a single, I Am Real, which is fun, cheeky, skewers the reality TV genre a little and above all is fun! I hope you like it as much as I do!

What else happened this week? Kelly, Sonja, and Cindy did some dating, and Sonja looked like she was having fun -– I didn't want her to have to change tables! Not sure why Kelly suggested the improv exercise, but it was entertaining, though maybe not to the guy. And Ramona -– she outdid herself on David Meister's catwalk (in support of the Dawson Scleroderma Foundation) and I was so proud of her at the Women's Venture Fund dinner. She works very, very hard and deserves all her success.

Lastly, I did a photo shoot for my modeling book, and should have bloody well known that if I made any comment on camera about eating or weight, there would be shots of me trying on samples that don't fit. I'm pretty thin, but I am in my thirties so not everything fits like it does on teenagers –- all the more reason why fittings are important! I was beyond thrilled to work with Mark Veltman and his amazing crew, and was floored by the final images – one of which is in this week's Life and Style.

See you next week, and in the meantime check out Thug in a Cocktail Dress, our fashion recap and Simon's blog. You can also find us on Facebook as well as Simon's and my Twitter feeds!

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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