This week’s episode of the Real Housewives of New York City took us out of the city and to The Hamptons. I thought the change of scenery and a nice trip to the beach might also give us a break from BookGate (which the women are now actually using as its name, strangely enough) but no. Aviva cannot keep her damn trap shut for one minute, blathering to anyone who will listen about all the mean things Carole said to her. Does she mention that Carole said mean things because Aviva spread rumors around all of NYC that could destroy Carole’s professional reputation and career? Nope, she left that part out. Whoops. Well, I guess getting half the story straight is something, right? We had a lot of major fails this week, fails that even the Countess LuAnn herself couldn’t put a stop to. However, one positive thing came out of the weekend, something I’m actually pleased to discuss. But first, let’s talk about who took a ride on the SS Failboat.
Fail #1: The Way Aviva Fights
The way Aviva fights drives me effing crazy. Let’s get real – no one on this show is actually good at fighting except for LuAnn. She does the calm-talking thing, which just makes everyone else look crazy and stupid, even when she is completely in the wrong. She clearly went to the Lisa Vanderpump School Of Calm-Voiced Bitches. Everyone knows that screaming loudly doesn’t ever help you win (*cough*Ramona*cough*). But Aviva does neither of these things – she tries to do the slow talking thing, but she just repeats one phrase, over and over again on an endless loop. I don’t know how she chooses the phrase – is it the first thing to pop into her head? Is it something she thinks will help her case? Is she just trying to beat her opponent into submission by driving them completely f*cking mad? I don’t know. But it kills me. Every fight with Aviva is the same: she repeats something. That’s all she does. In her first big fight with Carole, it was “stop yelling.” Stop yelling, stop yelling, stop yelling, stop yelling. Carole, bless her, finally yelled, “I AM NOT YELLING!” which was completely predictable and embarrassing. In last night’s argument, it was “stop pointing at me, stop pointing at me, stop pointing at me, stoppointingatme, stoppointingatme, stoppointingatmestoppointingatme.” AD NAUSEAM. This is the most annoying, weakest and most aggravating tactic I have ever seen a person employ in an argument. It is the adult equivalent of LALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU and it’s not a good look on a grown woman. If someone doesn’t smack her one day to make the broken record stop, I will be very surprised. In the meantime, I’m just like
Fail #2: She Who Must Not Be Named
So, last week we were briefly introduced to a new hanger-on who wants desperately to be a part of this show. Seriously, she is oozing desperation. It’s almost as embarrassing as her saggy, over-tanned boobs, which were up in everyone’s faces (or rather, swaying in everyone’s faces) just as much as she was. She is an Image Consultant (capital letters) and I am not using her name here because you know that crazy woman has a Google alert set up on it and is just salivating over every ping sent to her inbox. I will not contribute to her internet presence. I refuse. I also refuse to link to her personal website, which is herfullname-dot-com and filled with the most ridiculous photos I’ve ever seen in my life. Her website looks like someone took a bunch of Glamour Shots in the “Joan Collins” theme, complete with poofed hair and cigarette extension, and slapped them up on an AltaVista homepage. Seriously, if you’re willing to give her the traffic, you need to check it out. It’s got some great, completely vague mentions of her past celebrity clients (although no photos of her actually with any of them) and some really amusing “press,” my fave of which is just a quote in People about David Archuleta. I’m not sure she understands what a press section is supposed to be. Maybe she meant outdated press about American Idol? Her website also features some really amazing costume jewelry (get your very own Tahitian Vacay stud earrings for $8.99) and a “blog” about her “role” as a “new cast member” of the Real Housewives of New York City – complete with episode recaps for the episodes she appears in. It’s…seriously sad. I cannot even with how sad it is. It might be the saddest website ever?
So, said Image Consultant, who I will now refer to as Salamander Flanders, has wriggled her way onto this show like Sonja wriggling into her $12.99 black bustier. She is suddenly everywhere! Where did she come from? Is she Aviva’s image consultant? Because if so, she is not doing a good job, am I right? Haha. Then again, maybe she’s the one who wrote all those fake reviews on Amazon.com for Leggy Blonde? I don’t even know what to make of her. Does she want to be a full-time housewife? Okay, obviously. But then she talks and I’m just like…what? Who ARE you? I think she’s trying to appeal to fans of Brandi Glanville, giving some “real talk” kind of humor, but even Brandi isn’t as unnecessarily mean and rude as she was. Her comments during Sonja’s
burlesque caburlesque routine were just cruel. What did Sonja ever do to her? Is Salamander Flanders just jealous because she not-so-secretly wants to do it with Harry Dubin and Sonja’s got that in the bag? I don’t get it! But I’m sorry to say, it looks like we haven’t seen the last of Salamander Flanders, which is a definite Fail in my book. Ugh. I’d rather have LuAnn back.
The Win: Sonja Morgan’s One Woman Show
Sonja’s affinity for burlesque has had me cringing for a couple of years now and her performance on this week’s episode wasn’t any different. It was almost a relief to see how unprepared she was, Googling “burlesque moves” on her iPad five minutes before showtime. If she’d really been killing herself rehearsing for this routine, well, it would’ve been pretty sad. Because it was not good. But here’s the thing: she didn’t care if it was good. She had fun. It was fun. Sonja Morgan, like girls in general, pretty much just wants to have fun. She doesn’t particularly care if she looks like an idiot, or if her nipple slips out halfway through a stilted monologue where she says “Daddy” a lot, or if no one on the planet actually wants to buy a toaster oven cookbook. She’s Sonja Morgan! She doesn’t have time for haters or naysayers or people with saggy boobs who wished they looked half as good during menopause. She’s Sonja Frigging Morgan. She colors in her vintage handbags with a Sharpie and she lets college students named Pickles live in her house and serve her drinks. Why? Because she’s fabulous. She has no hot water, but a feather boa collection that could clothe an army of drag queens. And you know what? That’s okay. Her friends love her. They may not love her attempt at burlesque, but they love her and it’s sweet of them to show support for her…genuine support! I was pleased (and a little surprised, to be honest) to see how kind the other housewives were during her performance. I think even Aviva was uncomfortable with Salamander Flanders and her rude comments. But other than that troll of an image consultant, there wasn’t a catty word to be said. It was nice to see the ladies being, well, nice for once.