Cast Blog: #RHONY

RHONY Fight Club

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

RHONY Fight Club

Ep 21:'s Associate Editor makes sense of the many fights in the Season 5 finale.

Oh hello sweet RHONY fans. Eighteen episodes later, we’ve seen so much -- faces in bidets, toaster oven fights, massive debauchery in St. Barths, Google searches, and beachside meltdowns. But how does it all end? How do we close the books on Season 5? With more fighting than you could imagine as it turns out. Let’s try to make sense of it all shall we.

The Queens of the Court
We open, of course, with a ping pong tournament. Because why wouldn’t we? This season has provided so many delightfully bizarre moments that I find it completely non-shocking that we have a table tennis tournament. Frankly, with the outlandish events of this season if Chairman Mao had appeared to play the tournament for all of Forrest Gump's Dr. Peppers, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

We all knew that this would be the first time Aviva and Ramona would see each other post-George bust-up, but I was far more concerned about the ladies’ ping pong prowress. Let’s be honest -- everyone thought LuAnn had this in the bag right? She just seemed like the clear favorite based on demeanor -- and prior experience with ping pong tables -- alone. Of course I should not be surprised that the Singer family tennis dynasty was one to mess with. We’ve seen them destroy enough ‘Wives in the Hamptons (on the court silly) to know this was their camp-style sport to lose. But then the dark horse, Heather “Holla” Thomson rose to the occasion. I hope the trophy was just engraved with the words “holla.”

Of course it wasn’t all tiny shorts and odd mustached men. When Aviva got a chance to bend Heather’s husband’s ear she of course brought up the Ramona situation. Heather is less than pleased with this talking point. Let it go! Can't everyone just get along for the sake of the pong gods!The Bronx is Toast
Finally the moment we’ve waited for arrives -- Sonja’s toaster oven box is unveiled (sadly nothing is inside of it, toaster oven still TBD). But we get a chance to see Sonja in the contested poses. Is she better alone or with men?

With men of course! And everyone does a dance! Heather was correct. James was correct! Sonja is better with her legion of men. Speaking of why did she miss the casting of said men? How can anyone make a male based decision sans Sonja. I barely do.

Brooklyn Has a Leg Up
Meanwhile, it’s time to get Aviva to suit up for her big runway debut. As it turns out the clothing is very, well, leg-centric. Aviva is in the honor position wearing some great Beyonce-style briefs, which has her begging Heather for some tights. Looking at Aviva’s body, I would pretty much never wear tights. If I looked that good I would constantly be in Beyonce briefs. I’d be writing this blog wearing nothing but Beyonce briefs and holding my sex kitten whip. I’d be doing the Heather feel it head bob constantly. I’d probably stop writing and just walk constantly, channeling the black woman inside my body and hoping my fortune would just befall me.

However, Aviva really wants to wear a jacket -- or not wear a jacket -- or put her hair down. She’s not exactly the most obedient model. And so she pulls a twist, as the violin plays she sheds the jacket. DRAMA!

Speaking of not being obedient, Sonja and Ramona do a lot of chattering re: toaster ovens mid-fashion show. As they ponder just how filthy Ramona’s wine glass is, they also give the photographer the Spanish Inquisition about photos. Why aren’t there more of them? And so when Heather finds Ramonja some sort of side hallway chattering about it, things erupt rather quickly. Heather is not having it. She is deep in feel it mode. . .so she wants Sonja to take her headband out of there immediately.

Staten Island Women’s Hospital
In other finally finished news, Carole has wrapped up her manuscript. The baby has been delivered so why not give Carole a stroller, er we mean a party.

So a chic event is in order, of course everyone is a bit fractured, with Ramona and Heather having serious tension amongst the fancy wallpaper (was it just me or was that wallpaper to die? Also the modern artwork behind Carole’s head during the speech is all I’ve thought about for days. For days!). Heather decides to clear the air by point blank asking Ramona if she cares about people. . .that’s a good start.

Of course, once Ramona slightly diffuses that situation another one quickly arises this time with her trusty foe Aviva.

Manhattan Major Moment
So here’s the question -- if you show up somewhere with a check are you suddenly invited? That seems to be Aviva’s initial defense for her dad’s arrival. If that’s the case I’m going to bring checks and show up at all sorts of events.

Meanwhile, as that fight plays out Sonja and Heather continue to hash out their troubles. Fights were everywhere. This was the angstiest book party since the one from Bridget Jones Diary. People were yelling about entitlement, physical abuse, etc. Poor Carole just wanted this to be a baby shower. I guess without real baby shower games, there is no way to keep people distracted. Quick someone produce a jar of M&Ms that we need to decipher the number of or a mysterious baby photo that the 'Wives must identify.

And so the season ends with a bang with contention and enough tension for tons of knives to hack away at. We'll have to see if the reunion provides any solace for our 'Wives. Hopefully Andy can gift each gal a toaster oven and settle this whole mess civily.

Thanks so much for reading and commenting this season. I'm sue all see you in the comments of one of our other fine shows. . .or at the very least when our dear Manhattanites return to us next.

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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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