Cast Blog: #RHONY

The Cool Kids

Episode 2:'s Editor discusses open relationships, plumbers, and pinot-filled hats.

Hello my fellow un-Mean Girls (I want us to keep living by that mantra this season). I hope you've filled your hats to the brim with pinot and are ready to lap it up like the chapeau-loving cats you are. We've got a lot of ground to cover.

Harry Dubin is Anything But an (Staten) Island
We open with Aviva discussing her favorite person in the entire world, her husband Reid. She wouldn't be able to breathe without Reid, so basically she likes him a lot. Aviva and her beloved are having dinner with Heather, and her equally beloved Jonathan, and discussing freeloading at vacation homes, Judaism by injection (you and me both sister), and Aviva's ex.

Yes as it turns out, Harry has injected his fair share of Housewives as well: Aviva, Sonja, and LuAnn. Aviva sums it up best, "It's kind of gross."

Thankfully the topic quickly changes from how many notches are on Harry Dubin's bedpost to over-indulging kids. Buy that kid the appropriate amount of Batmans to ensure he doesn't turn out to be a Housewife-stchooping mess. Rumble in the Bronx Central Park
Next we see Ramona and LuAnn attempting to meet and settle their differences once and for all. Wouldn't the world be a wonderful place if these two could put their differences aside once and for all?

I have to point out my three favorite moments of this fight:

A: LuAnn saying "What other dirty tricks do you have to pull out of your pinot-filled hat?" What a blissful bit of imagery that was! Thank you Countess for that amazing, imaginary thought.

B: Ramona breaking the fight to explain her new nail regime. Her tips did look nice, so I'm glad she gave us some background.

C: Ramona saying "I don't even care about you that much." Obviously, this was a barb designed them back on the truce track. . .

Yet somehow, the come to a consensus. The deal is made, even if LuAnn claims she might have just made it with the devil. . .

Later we see Ramona and Aviva having a smoke (but not fire) filled lunch. Aviva appreciates Ramona's candor, but wants to stay on her good side. Therefore she gets right into asking about her bust up with LuAnn. Aviva feels like the whole affair might be exaggerated on LuAnn's end. Ramona then ponders what exactly LuAnn does with her time and gets angrier as the plates are served. However this is high road Ramona. There will be no repercussions, unless of course she finds out Aviva lied to her. . .

The Queen of Hearts
Next we see the budding friendship between Carole and Aviva. As Carole casually mentions, "What's not to love about Aviva? She's a blonde bombshell and she's my super fan." Agreed. Plus both ladies love vintage and discussing other people's bizarre fights.

Over furs, Carole gives Aviva in update about her dating life. She's in a "situation" with Russ. They date when he's around, but when he's on the road (playing AEROSMITH SONGS) they are their own people. It's all so rock 'n' roll, which is why Aviva's only response for a bit is, "you're so cool." I love that Aviva is self-aware enough to realize that as "cool" as Carole's free love situation is, she knows she "would be much too jealous and possessive and controlling for that." This entire conversation should be cast in bronze as proof that both of these ladies are good eggs.

Also great advice from Carole -- never sleep with a man until he thinks he's in love with you. And why's that? Because: "I want a man who’s obsessed with me emotional, intellectually, and sexually. And if he can support himself that’s a bonus." Also, Aviva, you look delightful in a jumpsuit!Anyway, soon enough we meet the man himself. And what does a relationship between a heralded writer and a touring member of Aerosmith look like? Apparently like two high school kids driving around. Carole really wants to keep the focus on songs that are about her and the future of her singing career. To Carole, "there's nothing more fun to me than to drive through New York City listening to the song that was inspired by me." I bet there are a lot of Taylor Swift's ex-boyfriends that think exactly the same thing. 

The Youth of Brooklyn/America
After a very touching turn learning Heather's poet father (how sweet was their celebration of his life?), we see a delightful juxtaposition of Aviva and Heather's families at dinner. I want to give major props to Heather's corn-loving, knife-wielding progeny. I love you kid! Stay that much fun your whole life.


Then LuAnn has a little tete-a-tete with Noel. He's apparently not doing so hot in French! French of all things! Sacre blue! Even with Jacques helping him with his homework, Noel just forgets sometimes. Plus his French teacher (and his math teacher) have horrible accents? How can he be expected to learn from these folks?

Manhattan's Major Gay Icon
From there we sojourn to Sonja's, where things are in a bit of a state. Hurricane Irene has sent her house into a tailspin, but thankfully Rich, the contractor, is there to solve all -– particularly Sonja's need for love.

Though Millsaps (Sonja's assistant) loves a good hurricane, Irene was not the fun our ladies had in mind, leaving Rich and Sonja to fondle the drapes full of water and various other devastation left in its wake. Sonja does not mind -- she will show him all of her damages if that's what it takes. Just let her fix her skinny jeans and then she'll gladly cook for him in her toaster oven.

But before her and Rich settle down for a life of properly maintained pipes, Sonja must present an award to her favorite folks -- the LGBT. Yes, despite the horrors that happened last year at the marriage equality march, the women get it together to attend Sonja's big affair. Heather even admits that she's quite popular with ladies who love ladies.

Unfortunately, while someone told Sonja where the snacks on sticks were, no one bothered to inform her of when her actual speech was.

But despite her truancy, Sonja did finally arrive and did a fabulous job of presenting the award. As Sonja says, no harm no foul. Just let the woman dance with her drag queens!

Next week things get heated over a trip across the pond (Yay! I hope Carole has plenty of songs about her to listen to while driving on the other side of the road). Until then, leave your comments on open relationships, snacks on sticks, and Ramona and LuAnn's deal in the comments.

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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