Oh sweet Jesus, it was that kind of evening. Ramona was in a new candy-colored negligee, her hand weights tucked beneath a hotel bed. I kind of loved her little face sitting there alone on the sofa waiting for Mario. A sip of pinot, then 20 more, just waiting for my man, not thinking at all about the possibility of a mistress. Across the river, Alex and Simon were cooking up a feast for lovuhs. Simon did a little cheerleader back kick into his wife’s caboose, which apparently is his way of announcing he’s feeling frisky.
No aprons necessary, Alex dear. It’ll be just one more article of clothing that Simon will have to remove, Tide stain stick, and fold neatly back in the drawer. Tonight he wants you full of oysters, wearing nothing but a black bra-er and some boy shorts. Or maybe a Miss Havisham lace robe? All he knows is he’s got a big present for you. Surprise! It’s gift basket of weird undies, sitting astride his crotch. (Can I please have a blog from a Bravo crew member on being present during this scene?) Alex led the way to the boudoir, awkwardly flouncing a purple ribbon in the air. “Wait for me, I’m coming!” hollered Simon behind her. “I always do,” she winky-winked back. What can I say, this show is my TV equivalent of a box of cheap wine. Doesn’t quite feel good going down, but it still gets you to a strange happy place. Hangover’s a bitch though.
Uptown, Ramona had removed her watch, and hid her blackberry under her pillow. Such gestures demanded a bigger response from Mario than “hmm, good time.” How about great time? That’s what Ramona was waiting to hear you big lug. Ramona isn’t much of a masseuse but she’d invested in this yummy-smelling oil and she wanted to rub it all over Mario’s pecs, and by that she meant abs, and by that I meant eww. Anxious to indulge in a little foreplay Ramona took the opportunity to wonder if there was any truth to the fortune teller’s claims that there was another woman in Mario’s life. “Avery!” he said. Mario has a real salesman’s air about him so it was hard to gauge his honesty. However wacky Ramona is, I do hope her husband isn’t stepping out on her. Though I did have to laugh when Mario told Ramona to get behind him and work on a knot in his back while the camera cut to her saying “I think the way Mario and I look at eachother says it all.” Out of my line of vision, woman!
Sonja has acted like your embarrassing wealthy aunt all season. I guess we now know why. Some movie deal possibly involving John Travolta went belly up and she’s been stiffed with a 19 million debt. (I’m sure I’ve got those numbers wrong as I’m going solely on information gleefully supplied by Jill Zarin.) Times are tough which means she only gets to take trampoline class twice a week instead of three and she’s still ponying up for those expensive facials but that’s only so she can romance Dr. Sadick. The doc wasn’t much of a looker but all the girls in town, including Sonja perhaps if this debt malarkey sticks, are after him. “He’s a doctor,” said Sonja in a real no-duh voice. “Come on, this is New York City.” I think I smell a wedding for the Season 5 finale! If Cindy gets invited she can pretty much bank on the fact that she won’t make into any of the wedding pictures. Good one Sonja. Peeved after their souk shenanigans, Sonja iced Barshop out of every shot. Poor Cindy, who made quite a production settling her assistant and brother down on the sofa to look at Morocco photos, saw but one fleeting image of her ankle at the back of a camel train.
NEXT: What I would have given for LuAnn to give into her rage and flip that table.