The Beautiful and the Damned
Carole begs for rehab and asserts that Ramona and Aviva's fight is Top 3 in Housewife History.
Today is F. Scott Fitzgerald’s birthday. He had a lot of friends and trust me, they all drove drunk. He was a wiz, too, with metaphor so I think I’ll borrow his words.
“[Real Housewife] quarrels are bitter things. They’re not like aches or wounds, they’re more like splits in the skin that won’t heal because there’s not enough material.”
I know what he’s talking about -- I don’t have enough material for this blog. Do you get the feeling you’ve read it all before? Same stuff, different scene. I’ve got George buying potency wood, Sonja too upset to hang her coat, Heather strutting her Yummie with skill, Robin Pocker of the Pocker pictures pocketing paintings with her crew, Aviva giving spelling lessons and. . .well, whatever. That penthouse is really high up.
This will be short and “Areyoukiddingme” will be happy. She likes a short blog. She mentioned it, by comment, circa Episode 13. She said “Good God, Carole,” and you defended me. Thank you, defenders. #letsstay2gether
Sonja, The Ex and Dorian Grey
Sonja is so upset after the non-meeting with her J. P. Morgan that she can’t bear to hang her coat. Her friends are in Palm Beach, or Lifer Key, or else lunching and Sonja can’t even keep her house. She has bills to pay and a toaster oven to make, and Mr. Morgan is not at all interested in her décolletage.
Sonja doesn’t know where it went wrong. She was everything in the kitchen; everything in the bedroom. Hmmm. . .I see the problem now. I wish they’d come to me. You can’t cook for heads of state in a toaster oven, it’s limiting, as are dogs and friends and interns in your bed. I didn’t try those sorts of things when I was married, but as a rule, I don’t think they work.
Sonja has turned a corner on friends and husbands. She’s taking down the portraits that the Queen Mother’s painter painted. Oh boy. Nothing sincere can come after that statement. Here it comes: The Morgans are American royalty. Yes, royalty who charge us $3 to use their ATMs. There’s an Aristocrat for you. (Cheap!) No wonder he hasn’t kept to his pre-conception agreement.
I know what it’s like to lose everything, and then start over again all alone. It’s daunting. But Sonja has a lot going for her; I think she’ll be just fine. She’s young, has her health, supportive friends, plenty of opportunity, and a beautiful daughter. She has more than most. She also, apparently, still has quite a few homes. She’ll feel better once the painting is down. It’s just an old painting.
Aside: Did you hear the phone ring in this scene? Ramona is the Marimba ringtone on Sonja’s iPhone. If I had an iPhone I’d make her the Trill -- direct and to the point.
Heather is Yummie
$400,000 for one organ? Wow. I’m not an organ donor, but now I’m going to be. Everything but my heart -- it’s taken some hits, it’s mostly scar tissue now. I think I’m going to have my heart buried with me. Me and my heart on a hilly green knoll under big shady elm trees. My tombstone will read “She Was Something. . .” Unless any of you come up with something else. Tweet me.
It’s really amazing, the work Heather does to raise money for transplants. Like with Jake. Remember when Aviva helped get Jake running legs? It’s so humbling to see kids like that -- like Heather’s son Jax -- who need legs and new livers, and still smile so big with their great big hearts. It puts pinot and pirates in perspective. Having a son who almost died is sobering. Maybe this is why Heather is so grounded. Maybe this is why she has a Cheshire cat smile.
M-E-TA-P-H-O-R meet R-A-M-O-N-A
When Bravo does a montage (have they already folks?) of the Top 10 Fights of Housewife History, I’ll bet this scene is number three. I’d put it against anything Miami comes up with this season.
Aviva shows up with her petticoat cinched tight and a bun the size of the Starship Enterprise. Ramona’s weapons are concealed, behind sunglasses, but she matches Viv blow for blow until Viv gets weak and lets her guard down. That’s when Ramona looses her dagger eyes and Aviva fires back in a hailstorm of lashes. I think Heather should slow jam Aviva’s lashes, and I think Ramona should have to carry a permit for those eyeballs.
If this were one of the Rocky films, Aviva would be Drago (assuming Drago has gone to Vassar.) Ramona’s not quite fresh for battle, like in Rocky I, but she’s the odds favorite against Aviva, who I guess would be Russia. It’s Chamomile vs. Earl, Red vs. Gray, The Bun vs. The Bunny; Clash of the Upper East Side Titans.
Can you drive someone to diarrhea, is that how you get it? Does herbal tea cause verbal diarrhea? Does anyone know about this?
“I didn’t lose it, I was disgusted by you.”
“Let’s not lose it today.”
“You run away from people.”
“No, I just don’t like to have fights.”
“You ruined the trip.”
“YOU ruined the trip.”
“You slept naked in a spoon-shape.”
“You made me change my underwear.”
“You are my problem.”
“Lies. Lies. Lies.”
I don’t know about Ramona and Sonja and LuAnn, but I would love to go to rehab. I’d start addicting this very minute if it would get me a team of Swiss doctors to analyze me all day. I want 28 days of shuffling from group therapy to nap time. 28 days to talk about myself, and the ladies, and the day we vowed not to be mean girls and how things really took a turn that day at lunch when we first talked about Heather talking. I want to talk about the crumb tray that never appeared, the Italians who didn’t show, the parade that never was. . .oh, boy, do I want to talk.
Charity starts at Home
Here’s the high penthouse and here is Robin again. Remember Robin from the War of the Rose Lipstick Fight? She was the one who hates fake. She hates it. Hates fake. I hate fake too, except in eyelashes and Fendi baguettes.
And then. . .here comes George. Is he dropping off checks or is he asking me to dinner? George should not have come, but he did, then he left. It wasn’t the right place for apologies. The cameras didn’t catch it but he was rattled. Heather and I noticed it. For all his bluster he is uninitiated in the ways of Housewife Warfare. He seemed confused. I got him a glass of water then I walked him out and used Sonja’s hug therapy to calm him. Then I drank a fifth of Petron.
I don’t often get called to do it, but I can escort an elderly man from an awkward charity scene with some dignity. I didn’t just fall off the potato truck either.
I’ll see you later, I’m going to rehab for the week. And I’m talking.