Cast Blog: #RHONY

Jesus Louisius

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

Jesus Louisius

Episode 8:'s Editor falls in love with a sex addict and with LuAnn's eyebrows.

Once again, the episode opens with a delightful oddity. Ramona and Sonja are just sitting around discussing possible facial procedures. How deep does that laser go? We’ll never know because of course, the lunch was all about the fallout from London. . .and sex addicts.

A Love Grows in Brooklyn
Ramona may not have been invited to London, but she invited the ladies for a cathartic post-trip chat just to be sure she didn't miss the across the pod antics. Ramona was shocked to find that LuAnn was the lightening rod of drama on this trip instead of Heather. I wonder if she put money on that in some sort of who will be most annoying pool with Sonja?

Once Aviva arrives, the topic turns to more travel. Aviva has invited Ramona and Mario to Miami, Carole will happen to be there at the same time, and now Aviva extends another invite to Sonja. Why? Well it seems Aviva wants her to meet a tall, dark, sex addict stranger there. There's just one potential snag -- that handsome, orgasm-loving gent is Aviva's father.

I'm not sure what the protocol is on setting someone up with your dad. I guess it depends on how much you like your dad, what sort of sexual deviant he is, etc. etc. I do know that I agree with Carole though -- this is going to be a delight to watch. Before Sonja embarks on her familial love affair, there are toaster ovens to design. Thusly she meets with Heather and a logo designer to discuss branding (whilst wearing the greatest hat in the entire world). Sonja's a touch miffed that Heather's help didn't really get the entire Ms. Morgan picture. It seems like the meeting is a little bit of missed connections, but hopefully things will get right on track for us all to by our toaster ovens in a timely fashion.

Queen of Palattes
In less font-rific news, LuAnn and Jacques are hosting an evening of wine games. Instead of just tasting the wines, the ladies have to guess the province, notes, and such of various vinos. Carole claims to know no difference between grape juice and Bordeaux, while Aviva is unsure of the color of grape juice at all. But just when you think this is going to be a pretty sad competition, the titan of taste herself, Ramona arrives!

It's like watching children swimming in a wading pool and then tossing Ryan Lochte in. THINGS JUST GOT REAL. But first Heather is put to the test. She's not a huge fan of this particular white wine, but it does improve after she inhales some lemon essence. If this is the way to mask the tastes of wines I don't enjoy, perhaps I should start huffing lemon zest before I drink cheap wine. The more you know. . .

Ramona is not comfortable being blindfolded (why hide those beautiful windows to her soul?). However, it seems she's earned the right to be pushy because she's got a prize nose. Her snout quickly distinguishes between various fruits and florals. Then Jacques lets loose on the secret -- it was Ramona's wine the whole time! Twist! Was it a set up? It doesn't really matter because Ramona saw your booby trap and got her way right out of it -- like Batman if Batman was a sommelier.

A Bronx Boca Tale
Finally we get to meet the man in question, Aviva's father George. From the get-go, I already love him. He notices a good tan, he loves scotch, he hates Bocca.

I personally can't wait to see if his prediction for Marilyn, Reid's mother, comes to pass. Stay tuned for a potential spinoff about her racially charged love affair with a younger man (Fingers crossed!).

After that really delightful dinner, the preparation begins for Ramona's arrival. Poor Aviva was frantic over thread count, while Ramona just wanted someone to tell her what to drink. Champs or Pinot? Is there a way to combine the two -- like a twist cone? It's spring break after all! Well maybe not, first there are house rules (no nudity, boo!) and then there are the plethora of family photos. How can anyone make love in these conditions? We'll have to stay tuned to see if Ramona finds a way. . .

Staten Eye-brow-land
Meanwhile, LuAnn and Heather are just two gals walking around in fur distracted by the quest for a perfect brow. When these two lady friends wandered into a brow salon, The Countess was shocked to find that her eyebrows could be improved -- as was I. I too once believed that LuAnn's eyebrows were fabulous, but life is all about learning you can improve.

As Heather endured the pain without even flinching (she is gangsta), the gals discuss the order of entrance in London. LuAnn is shocked that this is even an issue. Who knew sizism was such a major schism in the group? The Carole quandary comes up as well, but perhaps because LuAnn was so overwhelmed with pain, she sort of missed the full story. Lesson learned Heather -- don't try to have an important conversation with someone who was recently waxed.

Manhattan Major Moment
I really think the most important thing we learn in this episode is that Ramona tastes more than we do. Beyond her impeccable vino showing, over dinner we learn that for her a salad doesn't need much. When you derive as much pleasure from arugula she doesn't need more than that. Cilantro is enough to send Ramona into a fugue state of flavor. It hits her whole taste profile.

But her penchant for extracting every ounce of savory joy from her salad does not transfer to her picking up on the full motives of all involved. You see, Aviva doesn't want LuAnn's wine slight from the tasting to go unnoticed. She thinks it's unfair that LuAnn tried to "get" Ramona, and she doesn't want it to go unmentioned. This leads Mario to do his best Jacques impression, and we watch as before our very eyes, Ramona is wound back to her anti-LuAnn ways. Has all their goodwill been undone over a glass of wine? Did that hug last week mean nothing?

If that's not enough to keep you in suspense, the season trailer with talk of squirting orgasms, masturbation, white trash and cheating accusations could cause a fugue state of its own!

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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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