Cast Blog: #RHONY

Shuffle Off to Buffalo

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

Shuffle Off to Buffalo

What is weird? Our Associate Editor ponders the proper way to reenter a room and the end of the Moroccan trilogy.

This is it! Soak up those last little bits of the Moroccan sun because our trip is drawing to a close. We'll be riding our camels straight to the airport at the end of this episode, so pack your tangines carefully. We open with the aftermath. Jill is in the process of having the heart attack she mentioned last episode. . .

Number 5: With the Speed of a Shaking Belly

Even though Jill has just mentioned that it will be a "cold day in hell" before she kisses Ramona's behind again, the ladies have dinner plans. LuAnn attempts to come in to talk to Ramona but is immediately banished to pinot grigio duty (get the pinot, bring it to the kitchen, etc.). Then the second guest arrives, Kelly, beginning her surprising reign as the episode's peacemaker. She gently corrects Sonja about her dress (it's Diane von Furstenberg) and asserts that there are no teams. Kelly doesn't see hair color. Problem solved.

So now everyone's fine to go to the most exclusive belly-dancing restaurant in Morocco.

Ramona bounces back quickly to having a good time, but does hit a small snafu. It's impossible to get your money into these women's pants, they're moving too fast! You're telling me. If had a dirham for every time I couldn't put a dirham in someone's pants, well let's just say I'd have a lot of dirhams.

Number 4: But what would happen if Jill Zarin interviewed Barbara Walters?

The next day most of the gals jaunt off with Mustapha the hooded tour guide. I do have to agree with Sonja, the man is working what he's got. His mischievous grin is the perfect match for these ladies and their questions about Morocco's polygamy laws -- as well as Jill Zarin's questions about pretty much everything else.

Here a smattering of my faves:

What is Arabic? What other shape would it be? What is the difference between a gypsy and a nomad? That's pretty big, right?

The theme of this season to me is "Jill Zarin, Renaissance Woman." She's part dentist, part detective, part hard-hitting journalist. Bobby, tell us, is there anything she can't do?

(Also what is the difference between a gypsy and a nomad? I'd love to know).

Number 3: Re-Enter!

As night begins to fall the brunettes gather to have henna tattoos. The scene is rather impressive, with two women there to tat the ladies up, bowls of henna herbs (or what-have you), and of course lovely lanterns. The brunettes begin discussing how there's always a point in one's life where you think about getting a tattoo. But just before The Countess could reveal what sort of lower-back or regrettable sleeve she had considered, a buffalo Alex charged down the stairs.

(Let's stop for a second and consider how Alex could have made that much noise coming down the stairs. Do you think her shoes were coming apart? Was Savion Glover coming down the stairs with her? Did she roll a trash can down the stairs first?)

When she and the entire tap squad arrived she told LuAnn she had something to say later, but when Cindy called her back things got a bit out of hand.

I really feel this might be the greatest scene of all time. From Kelly's Alex impression, to Alex eventually breaking out in hives, lines like "Causing a casino," Jill's strange poodle hair, at one point Ramona and Sonja streaking past the entire fight about them because they are too concerned with caftans. I'm pleading the 5th Ammendment of Recapping because it is too good. I have watched it in upwards of 25 times. Is Santa going to fix Kelly's tattoo!?! Witch!?!

When all was said and done I felt like this:


And will forever feel that way.

Number 2: A Sensible Snack

Once it's finally time to eat there seems to be a bit of a problem. Where was the bell Ramona and Sonja asked for during the first part of the trilogy? Apparently it was never purchased because Alex, Sonja, and Ramona were all a touch late for dinner. Alex managed to sit down, but she wasn't quite welcome for the meal. When LuAnn told her: "If you want to start with me, you finish," I actually died. Being stone-cold ferocious is earned, my friend. Kelly shuttled Alex out, but before she could handle the new seating arrangements Ramona and Sonja arrived.

At this point LuAnn announces: "This is not the Plaza Hotel, this is Morocco," which is fact. Ramona's defense is she didn't ask for her dinner to be sent to her room just a snack. And then what does she do? She produces the snacks from the kitchen and holds them like the Scales of Justice in her hands. I have to say when she tilted those plates every so slightly I did believe they were in fact snacks, and not dinner, and perhaps there was a giant agenda snafu. However, I never saw an itinerary either, so who am I to say?

At Kelly's urging (once again restoring goodwill among women). Ramona and LuAnn gab in the hallway, and Ramona admits she is in fact late for dinner. ("What time is it now? It's 9:30, it's a little late.") LuAnn admits that she just wants Ramona to love her, which Ramona doesn't buy, but moving on.

Once the ladies had slumbered and had some breakfast (timing not mentioned) things improved dramatically. Jill went upstairs to return Ramona's swimsuits bottoms (which just proves how close their friendship is because I don't have any friends I share swimsuit bottoms with) and the pair agreed to get to a good chapter in their friendship book. (Look for the Ramona and Jill: A Friendship on Kindle) They even hug.

I'd also be remiss to not mention that Kelly goes running in Morocco. Was she running in the streets and forcing Moroccan cabs to follow her? We'll never know.

Intermission: Belly Up to Belly Time

I'm not sure there's much I can even say here. Below is an extended glance at the clip, which I highly recommend you watch. Personally I think we should extend it as much as humanly possible. Can we turn it into an exercise tape?

Shake it anyway! Ya habibi!

Number 1: Caftans Calling

The ladies finally receive the much-discussed caftans and I have to admit I got a little bit misty. Maybe it was just the "native" eyeliner I had applied but as the ladies recounted their favorite moments in Morocco and admired Kelly's breasts, I got a little Ramotional. It's been such a wild ride that being back in New York City should be a breeze -- wait, scratch that, it won't. Next week is the big "Herman Munster" brawl with The Countess and Sonja's facing some questions about her fiscal responsibilities. Oh brother! Let's bask in the moment now by leaving your favorite Moroccan moment in the comments! Tell me!

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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