The Trick of the Ramona Pinot. . .
This sounds like the title of a Nancy Drew mystery. I've decided I want a husband. I want a husband to fight my battles. I'm on Team Mario.
Things got a little uncomfortable at dinner and when that happens, Housewife Rule #28 comes into play: Go to the bathroom. We do it all the time but you usually miss them. You've missed a lot of bathrooms.
Speaking of Bathrooms, Holy Poopy the Pig, it's Harry Dubin! The man of rebounds and bubble baths and, apparently, quite powerful charm. It must be very potent charm because to see him is. . .well. All I'll say about Harry is his son Harrison is one of the sweetest kids I've ever met.
Brokeback Mountain Out of a Molehill. . .I Can't Quit You!
TOW (The Oven War) ignites! And Big Guns is Back! Do you think he has a sexy "J"? Who buys toaster ovens, anyway? I think Big Guns is right. I'd buy one with the naked guy on it and keep it in the box.
What other meeting earlier? Once again, they didn't bring notepads. If everyone would just bring their notepads, no one would be confused. No wonder it was a waste of time.
I like the term Lunch Friend, I want more Lunch Friends and fewer clients. Sonja is not a client, she is a friend. Poor Heather. No good deed goes unpunished and Heather is being punished -- maybe for not inviting Ramona to London.
Two set ups, two photo shoots, but no one on the set? Sonja's not a good negotiator, she's bankrupt. Her lousy ex-husband Mr. Morgan took all the cash and the yacht. Did you see Heather tacitly agree with Big Guns about the closed set? Good luck with that one. Lunch or no lunch, friends like a photoshoot. That's all I'll say about that.