Cast Blog: #RHONY

Carole Talks Reality

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

Carole Talks Reality

Carole claims she wasn't talking behind anyone's back and points out her and LuAnn's different codes of conduct.

Dear Friends,

So after London and Miami, St. Barth’s and Le Cirque, inviting and not inviting and God knows how many toasts, bottles, planes, subways and cars, it all comes down to a couch. Six women, 18 episodes, 12 really expensive shoes, and an elegant little seating arrangement fanned out around Dr. Andy Freud.

I thought the reunion would be more like the presidential debates -- a few lies and some posturing, a handshake then back home. But there were surprises on the couch. For one thing, it was freezing. It felt like a vault. The room had the ambiance of the opera after the curtain went down and the Phantom had gone home. We were instructed to wear: 1920s evening meets Truman Capote Black & White Ball. This seemed, on the face of it, a contradiction. The famous ball was in 1966, but six of this, half of that. This is the Housewives where contradiction and frack and friction go hand in hand.

It felt, a bit, like a closing argument in Law and Order. Objection! Overruled! Steely Glare! It was great fun, with echoes of all the best potboilers, and a little bit of Clue. Who took Colonel Mustard and a Pirate into the Ballroom?

Where to begin is the question. Let’s start with LuAnn.

Princesses and people are the same to me. No distinction. I didn’t talk behind LuAnn’s -- or anyone’s -- back. In fact, I barely talked to LuAnn in front of her back. One of the few times I did, it was to discuss my feelings about a situation that involved her and a close friend of mine and we walked away from that conversation just fine. She never brought it up again. She didn’t tell me that her feelings were hurt. How painful it must have been to hold that in for the entire four months of filming? In fact, I had no idea that LuAnn felt it was “the most hurtful thing anyone had said” to her until right there on the couch. Do you know why? Because she never said this, ever, in front of me.

It’s so silly all this talk about backs. Everyone is so caught up in backs that no one can see the fronts. What we say in interviews and our blogs is not behind anyone or anything, it’s public. It’s for the whole world to watch or read if they care to. There’s no crying in baseball, and there are no backs in reality TV. It is why it’s such a fun guilty pleasure.

What makes the show more than just watching us lunch and cab around town to parties, are the observations. We watch it, we live it, we share our observations. We are meant to point out the odd, humorous, and curious behaviors of each other in confessional interviews. So we do. When Sonja said, in an interview, she thinks I’m a poor hostess this isn’t talking behind my back. She’s being asked to comment on a situation, she’s being asked her observations.Is elegance learned or does it come naturally? Who knows. I think LuAnn is purposely dodging the real issue about my friends and the dress so she can make this a conversation that is focused on her.

I don’t ask designers for dresses. It’s an imposition on a designer, so I don’t ask, because I’m not Meryl Streep -- a designer wouldn’t get much attention for going to the trouble. But borrowing happens. I get it. I like to share. I lend my girlfriends clothes and I borrow my girlfriend’s dresses from time to time. In fact, I’m wearing my best friend’s dress on the reunion, I love it! I’m not giving it back.

Here’s the story: I had only met LuAnn twice, I barely knew her when she asked if I could arrange for her to get earrings from Ranjana’s showroom. She got the earrings, enjoyed my friend’s hospitality, then asked to borrow dresses. Naeem did not offer as she says. Naeem is not my “designer friend” he is a friend. He’s one of my closest friends, like family, and I would never want him to be put in an awkward position with a favor request from a stranger because of me. Just as I would no more walk into Jacques office and ask him to send me ten cases of wine -- gratis. This -- to me -- is about politeness. It was never about earrings or designers, or even LuAnn; it was always about code of conduct. My code and LuAnn’s code are different. I’m not saying one is better, but they are obviously different. And they clashed from time to time, as you saw.

“There are known knowns, known unknowns and there are unknown unknowns.” Donald Rumsfeld said that, it’s non-sensically brilliant. I think he may have been a Housewife in another country, another life.

We aren’t aware of all the scenes that are being filmed while we’re shooting, so there are a lot of unknown unknowns. During the season, each of us only knows the scenes we are in, we don’t see the big picture.

So if I’m not in a scene -- like on St. Barth’s, when Aviva insulted Ramona and Sonja -- I don’t know how it exactly went down or what was said until I watch the show. I’m watching it cold, just like you. We didn’t get a script of the scenes that were shot or dialogue that was said. It’s reality, and in real life friends meet with each other, have lunch, talk, argue, plan parties, and vacations and not everyone knows what is said to whom, just as in real life we find things out second or third-hand. The filming of the show and the watching of it are two completely different experiences.

Each was a fun wild ride.

We filmed the show last winter and then I watched it, along with all of you, for the first time. It’s interesting to watch. I see the appeal. As anyone who has read my weekly blogs knows, I think most of the drama is humorous and like in real life some take it more seriously than others.

Google must have been a sponsor of this season for all the times they were plugged. There was a lot of googling, including English Common Law. Huh? Ramona still makes me laugh. I was trying to address this, on the couch, the issue of Reid’s comment. It was out of line, there was no question. And rather than give it any attention or weight at all, I ignored it and we moved on. Sometimes silence is the best way to shut down an awkward conversation. I’ve never heard Reid speak like that off or on camera. Aviva knows it was out of character. She apologized and we moved on. We spent most of that dinner talking about Aviva’s organic food. Russ is a vegan and Aviva’s very knowledgeable about healthy diets. I mostly drank.

Thank you all for your generous spirit and kind words and your funny comments and tweets and suggestions and mostly, for just tuning in. I was completely humbled by your response to the show. I truly appreciate it. I’ve spent much of the past couple years alone, with my words, writing my novel, going mad and now I feel like I have thousands of new friends to talk to every day.

This crazy little ride has been a thrill. I’m a lucky girl. Here’s to you.

PS, tune in next week, where I am still cold and in the same borrowed dress.

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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