Cast Blog: #RHONY

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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

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Heather reacts to the "Singer Stinger" attack.

Personality quirks tend to show themselves when you spend a lot of time with the same people. It’s our third day in London, the jet lag is raging for the ladies, and the smallest disagreements can create mini flare ups, so I am doing my best to douse them.

And, speaking of water…

Sonja’s ice-water bidet trick is certainly a way to cool off! But it’s not a facial tip I am going to be testing out anytime soon! LOL! I only wanted to help save her hair from getting wet from the repeated dunking, but I could barely hold on! She just cracks me up…

While we were in London, Sonja suggested a friendly game of croquet. I love the outdoors so I was happy to partake! Knowing Sonja however, I didn’t expect our instructor would be quite so long in the tooth. But her man was feisty! You wouldn’t have guessed it, but after trying to bubble us up, he was really flirting a bit with the ladies! I confess, we didn’t learn much about croquet but definitely had some laughs, even while the flare up between the royals was ensuing…

Congratulations to Carole on her big win in Great Gatsby style!

Pulling up to the restaurant for dinner that evening, a heated discussion began between Sonja and LuAnn about who would walk into the restaurant first. I could not believe they were actually discussing that! Seriously? I was thinking, “Who cares?”
But they both care! So when the front door opened and LuAnn grabbed my hand and started to pull me out in front with her, I thought, “Ah, no way!” I must say, she was dynamite in that red dress and she deserved her entrance in it, but I don’t like to be in-between two Housewives, if you know what I mean. (I’ve ruffled enough of Ramona’s feathers and wasn’t messing with Lady Morgan’s plumes!) So I pulled Lu back (as a gentle reminder) and we walked in shoulder to shoulder. But Sonja still noticed, and she was annoyed. At dinner the one-upmanship continued with the princess now in the mix, and it escalated to comical levels! LOL! There was edge from Carole, but she owns her immaturity, and she was just having some fun poking at LuAnn, but LuAnn didn’t understand where it was coming from. So when Sonja and Carole went to the ladies room, I tried to have an aside with Lu. I wanted to clue her in about what she was doing to annoy the other ladies, and the effect it was having on them, but I didn’t do a very good job. I was being too indirect talking about the conversation in the car and the competitive nature of the women, and it went right over her head. So much for me as mediator! But all titles aside -- the Princess, the Countess, and M’Lady Morgan -- each of these ladies are fabulous in their own right, and I hope they’ll share the stage.

With a subject change in order, Sonja switches up the conversation to her concerns regarding the planning of Aviva and Reid’s anniversary party and her worries about her toaster oven prototype. She is terribly concerned about the linens and the china all matching and the seating arrangements, so I was thinking this is a major sit down feast and was growing concerned for her. So I try to get her focused on the party only, and LuAnn asks her if she is asking for our help -- I offered to go to help her when we touchdown Stateside, but in the end Sonja never asserts this to happen and the first Sonja in the City official party is about to kick off back in New York.

Upon arrival to Aviva and Reid’s party, my husband Jon and I saw the beautiful flowers, which were unbelievable, and the huge cake, which was off the hook, but we didn’t see where the sit-down dinner I had assumed was taking place was going to be. I soon recognized that Sonja solved that problem, and instead of a sit down turned it into a casual cocktail party with a buzzing vibe, with the focus on the entertainment and the speeches. Words cannot describe the performance…it was so wrong that it actually became good entertainment! Wrong genre, wrong venue, wrong guests of honor, but we still talk about it, so again, Sonja did her job and put on a memorable event for Aviva and Reid’s 5th anniversary -- mission accomplished!
Everyone had a nice time, except of course Ramona, with her “Singer Stinger” out once again. Ramona takes a lovely introduction and turns it, starting in on me with the same ol’ same ol’ again. With the same tired argument that lacks any real substance, she tries her best to burn me up with her cruel insults. Doesn’t she know the saying? Sticks and stones may break my bones… and I am not biting. I am actually bored with her antics and find her ridiculous at this point. I cannot even help but smile -- because it’s laughable! What becomes apparent to me this time around, however, is Ramona’s modus operandi of dropping a bomb and then walking away, so you don’t have a fair opportunity to comment. This is not something I will tolerate. I will not be dismissed, and so I follow her. I deserve a fair chance to straighten out her misgivings -- I am not spending an ounce of my energy “talking behind Ramona’s back,” it’s very much out in the open that we don’t groove, and for some reason what I continue to do is to invest my time trying to give her the benefit of the doubt, again! If I can’t calm her down with a gulp of her Pinot so that I can even come close to getting that point across, then I am certain I can give her something of substance to be annoyed about by following her around with my very best, gleaming pageant smile!

Carole’s immaturity is rubbing off on me and I have to admit, it is kinda fun!

Thanks for reading and thank you for all of the great feedback you keep sending my way! To learn more about me and my shapewear business, go to Facebook,, and And don’t forget to follow me on Twitter @iamheathert.

Have a yummie week!

xx. Heather

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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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