Cast Blog: #RHONY

I Hope You Dance

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

I Hope You Dance

Episode 15:’s Associate Editor ponders the power of dance and the discrimination against numbers.

Hello friends,

Did you take a Hummer to get here? I hope not because Hummers are déclassé. If you did arrive in a limousine complete with gels to give you just the right amount of sunset in the back window then we’re a go, so let’s get started.

The Queens of Pop (and Popping People’s Bubbles)

LuAnn is full steam ahead creating the perfect music video (which it is). It needs to full represent the message of beauty and elegance she so desperately wants to convey. More jets. Less non-professional dancers. Locations that with initials that could also be Air Conditioning. And no hummers -- because as LuAnn says, “when I think of beauty, class, and elegance, I don’t think of Hummers.”

While LuAnn is planning an MTV Moon Man-worthy clip, the other ladies are busy deciding if they want to be part of the production. Sonja and Ramona discuss if it’s a mother’s place to appear in music videos while working out. Though Sonja initially seems excited, Ramona has her feeling less enthused by the end of their elliptical. After, Alex and Simon discuss the irony between the word “Count” and another c-word of note, Alex asserts that she's staunchly anti the word "class" and is definitely not going to make an appearance.

Then LuAnn and Ramona have "Chic" chat. Finally the truth is revealed -- Ramona doesn't want to be in the video because she doesn't want to make it better. But even if her cameo is contingent on slighting The Countess, she still has some barbed comments about LuAnn's parenting -- and marriage. Things elevated really quickly, and in the Real Housewives roshambo this is a fight that seems pretty equally yoked. However, LuAnn pulls the ripchord pretty quick, and the matter is buried. . .for now.

The Manhattan Brain Scan Project

It's been a season of doctor visits for the ladies, and Jill’s brain scan might usurp her dentist visit with Cindy as my favorite. Watching Jill fill out the questionnaire and inquire of the doctor about her various personality points was such a delight (Jill: “Would you call me a loner?” Doctor: “You decide.”) What’s perhaps most glorious is the fact that Jill knows not what the brain scan is for, but she’s doing it “because it’s free.” This is the medical equivalent of a free sample. "What’s that you've got out on that tray Costco? Sure I’ll eat it if it’s free." She's doing that -- but with medicine!


This is FREE!

As Jill’s brain is prodded and poked, Jill and Sonja discuss the video. Perhaps it’s the brain scan machine on Jill’s head giving her keen intuition, but she immediately realizes Ramona and Sonja have already discussed the video. And despite Jill’s checking "guilt" on the list of personality traits, her attempts to talk Sonja into appearing don’t work. Perhaps if that cap had been a wig, as she wished, it would have been more convinced.

No Woman Is a Staten Island, Which is Why People Have Non-eating Assistants

Sonja Morgan is a busy lady. She doesn’t always have time for leisurely toaster oven breakfasts. Therefore when she decided to host Cindy for a mid-morning nosh she was skipping a dance class to make those Easy Bake eggs. As Cindy ascended the stairs escorted by the French-tern, it seemed like these two had put the pecking order pet peeves to rest and finally moved on to a place where they could eat eggs freely.

Until Cindy took a call. . .

You see Cindy does the small meals, so it was already lunch or pre-dinner by the time they ate. And work beckoned, so she enlisted her assistant to come along and not eat and keep the call a rolling. Perhaps she should have rescheduled brunch? Perhaps she should have let her assistant eat? Perhaps she should have had her act as a proxy eating the eggs and saying Cindy-like quotes during the business meeting? Who am I to say? All I can guarantee that this was surely the last time the toaster oven dinged that a meal was done for Ms. Barshop.

Bonus Borough: Atlantic City

Though it’s outside of the contingent five boroughs I have to give some major props to Atlantic City, the set piece for LuAnn’s “Chic C’est La Vie” clip. The video shot was such a phenomenal exercise in fabulousness I can barely describe it, so I'll limit it to my two favorite parts. Obviously Kelly's description of the extreme injustices against the Number 8 is first, but amongst Jill's many helpful instructions about the best production choices to make was a nugget of truth that I adored so much. As the ladies threw their chips in the air, Jill remarked what a once in a lifetime opportunity it was to be in a casino privately and be able to "just throw s--t all over the table." True facts. It's something I'll always pine for myself.Escape to Brooklyn

While LuAnn and Co. were off rolling dice, Sonja and Ramona went to Brooklyn to attend an art show at the McCord Mansion. We learned a whole lot about Sonja and Ramona and their friendship on this trek to the outer boroughs which I’ll outline below.

  • Sonja takes supplements which are designed to make her more supple and less raisin like.
  • According to how pitch perfectly it was performed, Sonja and Ramona have not only seen Mommie Dearest on many occasions, they are also pros at jumping up and down reciting “No more wire hangers."
  • Sonja occasionally refers to her breasts as “the art."
  • Sonja and Ramona call Brian “The Heater.” 

And as if those aren’t precious enough, we see Ramona having a bit of second-hand embarrassment, in a rare turn of events when Mario’s doing out of turn speaking. When Simon thanks the crowd for hoofing it to BK, Mario remarked basically “You’re welcome.” Ramona was a little mussed, but managed to move past it -- she is "the party" after all.

The Boogie Down Bronx

As a long-time Dougier, my heart was actually bursting at the seams to see the blondes unite in dance. Dancing against the oppression of the “Chic,” Avery ushered Ramona, Sonja, and Alex into modern moves with a class that taught them, the Dougie, the Rerun, and the Cat Daddy. I wish that I had videotape of my own eyes as they darted back and forth between the ladies taking in every nuance of their movement. Sonja said, “I may not be getting Dougie Fresh, but I was getting Sonja Fresh.” Yes, yes you were. Perhaps Sonja Fresh could become a line of fast-food restaurants like Baja Fresh, but everything is made in the toaster oven and the staff has to Dougie the food out to you (so it’s sort of like a Sonic). Alex also didn’t feel like her moves were perhaps up to par, but I found myself transfixed. Did you?

Next week we find out what is more unforgettable -- LuAnn dueting with Natalie Cole or Ramona taking a pregnancy test on a moving boat.

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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