It’s time for Dorinda’s Blog to meet the purple pen.
Opinion, opinions, opinions…Opinions everywhere and no solutions!
So the trip to Atlantic City started out with a deluge–and I’m not just talking about the weather. Once we got to Sonja’s townhouse, we were told to wait in the foyer. In Lady Morgan’s foyer. Quite a nice foyer, but nonetheless, a foyer. (Is it foyER or is it foyEYH? It really depends on who you ask, really.) I was fine waiting, to tell you the truth. With this much entertainment around you, how could I not?
I do not understand the foyer discussions. A foyer in a building is generally a public area at the entrance of a building. If they were in a common area, why would Sonja be talking about spilt tea on mahogany tables? A foyer in a residence is the entrance way into the home. It’s the first room or hallway one enters where one might leave their wet umbrella or hang a hat before moving freely into the rest of the house. If they were confine into a space surrounded by locked doors, as they seemed to have been, they were in the foyer of the building. None of the furniture would have belonged to Sonja. Am I missing something here? Also they seem to have chosen standing out in the rain, rather than the foyer they were supposedly offered.
I did not want to sit in on a coffee klatch at Lady Morgan’s house, especially with Heather having so much on her mind about Sonja lately. Would’ve been nice to have the limo there already, yes, but it’s not like we were being held in a hot subway station in the middle of August. Heather, on the other hand, was pissed…and I mean pissed. She took it very personally that we were kept waiting in the foyer and, naturally, Heather expressed it to Sonja…and Bethenny…and Ramona…loud and clear. More than once. In fact, she may have taken it a little too personal. Although I would have probably handled it differently, I don’t think it required a burning at the stake. I kinda expected Sonja to be late. C’mon…she’s Lady Morgan.
She is not Lady Morgan, Lady GaGa or in fact a lady of any sort. She is Brandi Glanville with access to better perks. Neither of them have gotten over a divorce from years ago and are self-medicating and having sex with 20 somethings in order to cope. It’s fine to be concerned about her well-being, but Heather and the others have the right to be offended by her lack of manners and breeding.
But…of course…nothing is easy with these girls. In fairness, a little coffee, a cup of tea, a biscuit…even on a sterling silver tray…you could’ve slid it under the door at least, Sonja. Once I’m ready to go, I am ready to get on with it and go. (By the way, I apply this theory to leaving parties as well. I usually quietly slip out and avoid the long goodbyes, texting byes and empty promises to see you for dinner soon. I hate that stuff.) I’m just glad our chariot arrived to carry us away to the land of amusement and enchantment that is New Jersey. We piled into the limo and behold: enough liquor to service every show girl in Atlantic City. It wasn’t even noon, but in retrospect, with the heavy rain and stressful start, it was a good thing. We started pulling out, and I thought to myself: Heather—check, Kristen—check, Lady Morgan—check, Birthday Girl “Ramoner”—check, Bethenny on a sorry spree—check, Dorinda Medley—check…Hey where are Carole and Luann, those tricky ones?! How did they get out of this rainy booze cruise shenanigans?!
A better question is if Luann is so pissed with Carole, why did Carole use her plus one on Luann when given what is likely an Andy Cohen get of limo ride free card? Why didn’t she save Heather instead? Did I miss the explanation on the official excuse that Carole and Luann were saved from the insanity?
I was just hoping Madame Yummie would grant poor Lady Morgan a pardon already, so we could have some fun…it’s Ramona’s birthday! That limo ride was full of chit-chat-chattering and back-and-forth. I kinda sit and take it all in—what else is there to do? If I get involved with my real feelings, there would be bleeding housewives everywhere.
So your real feelings are more like what we see with the beleaguered dry cleaner? This has been my theory so far.
Don’t even want to drink, because I am afraid that my anxiety will push me overboard. For example, watching these women pee out a car door while pulled over on the Garden State Parkway…it’s bizarre! I’d never seen anything like that in my life! Have you no shame, girls? They really should’ve stocked the limo with those Go Girl vagina tubes for camping—they turn your vagina into a penis. (And really…those wipes burn. Trust me…I guess I have no shame either.)
I am not surprised you own a device that changes your vagina into a penis.
Once we arrived at the hotel, Lu and Carole finally showed up, and there you had it: Luann, Carole, and Heather being all cozy with one another. It was nice seeing the three “Witches of Eastwick” being friendly. Heather updating them with stories of rainy mornings in the Upper East Side…I guess third time’s a charm?
Is someone feeling left out? You have Sonja, your BFF who had never been to your home before cameras were there to film.
I just needed a cocktail and a decent dinner. Thankfully, that restaurant delivered on both. It was delicious. A short-lived pleasantry, because it became the Takedown Sonja Hour. I hate that—it made me very uncomfortable and sad. Right or wrong, we have to let Sonja go on her journey. We can be there for her, but we have to let her figure things out at her own. Makes me sad to see her upset–it’s like watching a bunny cry.
What an odd simile. Have you watched many bunnies cry?
I’m glad Bethenny took a different approach the next afternoon. Everyone needs to stop being so insensitive and stop judging and walk in her shoes for a while. At the end of the day, you have no idea what life is going to bring you, and none of us are immune to challenges. None of us! Sometimes people just want to be heard out and consoled—she’s not a piñata for chrissakes! It’s tough out there, and some people just aren’t as strong as you others. BE KIND! Sonja just has to let go and let things happen. I know how she feels, I’ve been there myself. This is why Bethenny’s advice was perfect: Life happens now. Thankfully Ramona pulled her out of it the night before. (By the way, I’m calling them Frick and Frack, because when they pair up, not only do they start to look and act like one another, they’re entirely in sync. Have you noticed? They even finish each other’s sentences! It’s as cute as it is frightening, to tell you the truth.)
All that is true, and kind. So probably not your real feelings.
I was disappointed in the ladies for abandoning Sonja and just letting her go a bit haywire out there. I knew I had to get her home, and I would’ve dropped bottles of Veuve just to get her to follow me to the suite. Note to self: Next time, I’ll tell Sonja that John John is waiting for her upstairs. Maybe then she’ll move faster.
It was Ramona’s birthday. She should have been off duty and needed her own lady sitter. The others have all taken their turns in the past. You have been cast as her new BFF. So, sorry, but you’re it. You better get used to it. I doubt this will be the last time you have to lure her to safety with promises of champagne and celebrities.