Cast Blog: #RHONY

This Party's Got Everything

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

This Party's Got Everything

Our Associate Editor discusses this week's big birthdays and the problem with hypnotists

Hello NYCers. Happy birthday? Is it not your birthday? It's everyone else's (Jill, Avery, Victoria, Murray Hill's), so let's celebrate as though it was our own. Pass the cupcakes and pinot. It's party time.

Rent Staten Island for Your Next Sweet 16

You remember your Sweet 16 right? Your parents rented out that club, and you had ice luges and acrobats. You had a party planner, and the theme was winter sports.

Oh that didn't happen. Me either. However if you're the daughter of Ramona or LuAnn that is exactly how it happened. Both Real Housemoms decided to throw a party of a "certain level." Ramona's level is "Have Avery shoot down all your plans and then just don't tell Avery what you're going to do" level, while LuAnn is mocktails-only-themed.

And, surprise! The dueling sweet shindigs are on the same night -- a dilemma that reminded me of Jill sitting in the back of a limousine looking at invitations in Season 1. How would the ladies choose which youngster they wanted to fete? A coin toss? Feats of strength?

A Visit to the Bronx Hospital

Meanwhile Jill is throwing a bit of a party on her face. All of the liquid fillers are invited. Mrs. Zarin is getting a liquid facelift -- though not before having her sister explain financial solvency to Sonja who came to the doctor for moral support. I'm not sure how much of the Econ 101 went through to Sonja before the ladies went back for the injections, but Sonja seems to be holding up well. So kudos to her.

I don't think I've ever laughed as hard as when the daughter said, "you're just afraid." Nope she's not afraid lady, she is literally harmonizing in pain. Fear does not cause grown women to yelp in perfect pitch. Jill Zarin is like The Four Tops of physical suffering. Inject her with fillers and she will sing out to the heavens --as long as you get your eyebrows too while you're in there.Manhattan -- the Theater and Arts Capital of the World

So let's talk about Jill Zarin's birthday. I mean, really? There is just so very much to delight in at every turn. It's like a Stefon sketch from Saturday Night Live.

This party's got everything:Josephine Baker's son who looks like a miniature Elton John, a magician turning red spongeballs into slightly differently shaped spongeballs, the same magician interrupting Ramona to show her bigger money, Simon in a caftan, a drag king named Murray Hill, a drag queen LuAnn singing "Like Being With Jill," a painting of Ginger as a courtesan.

Sure it was a little narrow (Ramona), but everyone showcased their talents (Bobby's being how much he adores Jill) and all of the above parties were present.

How about when the drag king told Simon he dresses like a lesbian? I'm not saying anything -- but Murray, we've got a few other outfits of his we'd love to get your commentary on.

Let's just watch this magic moment again, shall we?

Keep this in mind young Victoria and Avery -- you may think you're hot stuff now with your fire-eaters and your snowmachines, but your mom's still can out party you.Brooklyn: A Smoker's Paradise

Back in Brooklyn Simon is trying to quit smoking (there's a joke there smoking after last week's lingerie tryst, but I'll let you make that for yourself, leave them in the comments).

Jacob the hypnotist is there to show off his flashy paisley puffy vest and utilize his talents to help Simon stop his bad habit. Simon admits that he's quit cold turkey twice before, but just wants to have one more cig before this whole things starts. Can he just, step out, for just like a second. . . real fast. . last one.

After the final cig,  Jacob begins to tell him -- YOU ARE A NON-SMOKER. YOU ARE A NON-SMOKER, with some infliction that really was quite impressive. Simon snaps out of it and immediately wants to brush his teeth. Which either means that it worked or that he has impeccable hygiene. Either way, progress, right? Then Jacob takes his puffy, paisley vest away and we're left to see if this Aussie can keep it up.  

No, Mario, Those Are Not Queens Beds

After seeing Avery out and about with her gals and Cindy wearing an apparently smelly, yet rather awesome jacket to the gym, it's finally party time.

Avery gives the initial A plus to the party. Mario on the other hand gives an F minus to the beds that company brought in -- for the future boyfriend of Avery is not allowed to close the curtains around the beds. They're seats Mario, it's just a big seat that happens to look like a sleeping place. Relax! Find out what happened to the wine!

In contrast to the winter wonderland at Avery's shindig, Victoria's festivus was darkness and fire-eaters. According to Kelly's predictions Victoria is going to be "a Marc Jacobs muse or working for French Vogue in five years," so I might have chosen to attend that fete just for the job opportunities it presented. "Hello yes, I am a friend of Victoria's. I also look great in over-large flannel shirts and successfully completed three years of high school Francais."

In the end most people managed to go to both, except for Sonja who opted for the adult party with adult foods.

After Kelly has drawn the battle lines between the adults and Avery and LuAnn has left Victoria to have her fun, Bobby decides to really get the party vibe going by confronting Simon about a Jill Zarin hate website. Simon swears non-involvement and declines Mario's offer to take it to the patio and the men shake on it. They're on the same page. . . the same webpage (NERD JOKE).

Though, I'm not so sure that's the case, as next week once again the ladies (this time Jill and Simon) are embroilled in an argument that gets to "It's weird levels." 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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