In my book Leggy Blonde, I wrote (or according to Carole, someone else wrote) after watching Ramona and Sonja being called "white trash":
God, who is that bitch, that shrieking banshee? I know one thing. It's not me. It couldn't be. I don't speak to people like that. I'm a good person, devoted to family and public service. I try to be sensitive, tolerant, kind, generous, and loving. Did I really just call those women "white trash?" It couldn't be me.
Except it was. (I go on to explain why, etc. It’s all in the book).
There's always a bit of trepidation when I watch a RHONY episode. I usually remember what happened, but I also usually come off better in my memories than I do on the screen. For example, in my memory I came off a little better -- calmer -- when Carole attacked me at my housewarming. I lost it a bit. Ouch. I wish Bravo could just show the version I remember, but I can live with what I actually did.
So when I like how I come off, I'm a little surprised. And a lot happier. This week's episode was one of those. But before I toot my own horn ("And now Avivula is claiming she can play the trombone! What a liar/nothing/bitch/stay-at-home sociopath!"), I want to take my hat off (Spoiler Alert: not the leg; that comes later) to Sonja. Her prep for the Mermaid Parade was hysterical. Her quirky personality, her total honesty, her sense of humor and fun once again saved the show from descending into a bitch slap carnival. Sonja, you are the best!
And how nice to have LuAnn around. She was my first Housewife (we met before I was on the show), and she is by far the most elegant presence. Her poise, beauty, and personality light up the screen. Let's not be modest, we all look pretty damn good; Kristen, of course, looks great; LuAnn's fabulous. I'm just sorry the fighting compromised her barbecue. It was like mud wrestling without the mud . . . or the civility.