Hello yes hi there good evening how’s your mother I’VE FUCKING HAD IT. I’m sick of quarantine, I’m enraged at our government, I’m incensed that Instacart is out of my Udi’s Gluten Free Pepperoni pizza (#NotAnAd!!!) and I’ve had to settle for the cauliflower-crust ones that do not crisp up in the oven (the box lies!) for the third week in a row (I think! Time is a construct!)! It’s bullshit! Does it even matter whether I buy gluten-free or gluten-laden pizza if I’m just going to follow it up with great gobfuls of full-gluten cookies afterward? Yes! Because reasons! Did my grandfather fight Hirohito’s army for me to live like this? No! He did not! Am I to simply live with cauliflower crust until this magical vaccine appears which in this country will cost $4.8 million dollars per person and will be exclusively distributed by whites-only country clubs?! I guess! And while we’re here where is my fucking stimulus money! Run me my check, Mnuchin!
My point is I’ve been Googling “how to build a guillotine” in my off hours because I am consumed by a rage of which I did not know I was capable, but luckily for those of us ready to storm whatever the American version of the Bastille is, the theme of Episode 3 of RHONY was class rage! Sort of! If you reach hard enough! And it comes to us by that legend of the reality genre, our very own Upper East Side Che Guevara, one Sonja Tremont Morgan.
(If you missed them, recaps of Eps 1 and 2 are here!)
We open on Day Two of the ladies’ Hamptons retreat and the women are going to a vineyard, which Ramona calls wine trees.
We’re without Luann, though, who’s “at the chiropractor,” her euphemism for “I hate you bitches for making me sleep in the basement so bye.” Earlier in the morning, she’d lodged a complaint with Ramona about her basement smelling like dog piss and being spider-infested which… I’m calling bullshit because that basement has a sectional couch and there’s a professional cleaning crew coming through every day! Spiders ain’t fucking with all that! Spiders prefer locations such as my filthy episode-of-Hoarders bedroom where six months ago a spider bit me THREE TIMES on my FACE in my SLEEP and I woke up scratching so hard I was bleeding and my pillowcase looked like Nicole Brown Simpson’s entryway! (Too soon?) You got spiders Luann?! I’ll show you some fucking SPIDERS. I wish a bitch would.
Anyway, the women arrive at the Wolffer winery in *checks notes* Long Island’s famed wine country? I guess? And once the drinks arrive, they start shit-talking Luann for bailing, but Leah, as the newly appointed Greek Chorus of this show, pipes up with the obvious:
Why would a recovering alcoholic want to go to a winery! On Long Island! Though this kindness makes me worry for Leah. Empathy? Sincerity? In this economy?! Hock those wares on TLC’s Baby Story, basic human kindness is not what we do here henny!
Anyway Ramona suggests they all go around the table and “share” something they’re feeling vulnerable about and… why? WTF is this, church? Why am I being made to listen to Ramona blather about feeling lost in life, Tinsley lamenting AGAIN about not having kids, and Dorinda shit-talking Tinsley in return? And as if that weren’t bad enough, Tinsley just takes the critique! THIS IS A FIREABLE OFFENSE! It is literally your JOB--there’s a contract and everything!--to fight with bitches! I’m calling HR.
The upshot though, is that when Dorinda starts crying about her life, Ramona has some kind of psychotic break.
…which is the weirdest shit I’ve ever seen in my life, and I say that as a person who used to go to a church where they speak in tongues.
Finally, at long last, we come to Sonja! Our beautiful trainwreck! Sonja is incoherent on her best day when faced with the simplest of tasks, so booze her up and try to get her to talk about her deepest vulnerabilities and you get nonsense! Case in point: she begins her lament thusly: “All I do is work!” MA’AM! MA’AM! AT WHAT?! What do you DO?! The Sonja Morgan toaster oven empire never jumped off and you’re living in a goddamn Red Roof Inn, what “work” are you doing?! Inspiring.
And because we are blessed with the shadiest editors in Christendom, we are now treated to a quick-cut montage of all the nonsensical things Sonja Morgan feels “vulnerable” about:
Venetian plaster and Gracey wall paint…
Also onesies. Plus… um… I…
And then, you know…
Oh okay, yes, relatable! Not sure what this has to do with vulnerability but life is a mystery, everyone must stand alone! Daddy’s got a shotgun!
Now it’s time to go to the cocktail party Ramona is throwing at some gazillionaire’s mansion. And, once again, doing their shadiest work, the editors give us a little peek into the type of company Ramona keeps. This guy’s no stranger to hosting parties in his mansion, it turns out!
Honestly, I try not to dwell on this, but these people really are garbagepersons. And then so am I because I watch this shit! Honestly I’m gonna end this here and go apply to graduate programs in public service because LOLOLOLOL JK NO I’M NOT because this is where things really start going off the rails and we live in a failed state and must find joy where we can! Back to you in the studio, Sonja!
Already drunk from their afternoon in the celebrated vineyards of Long Island, Sonja begins the evening by shit-talking Luann’s outfit, and she’s never been less wrong.
Who wears a cardigan to a cocktail party at a Trump voter’s mansion? It completely distracts from the BLOOD ON YOUR HANDS FROM THE COUNTLESS HUMAN DEATHS THAT HAVE RESULTED FROM THE COMPLICITY OF THE RICH IN UNPRECEDENTED AMERICAN EVIL. It’s all wrong! An understated necklace made from the amber-preserved tears of caged children at the border would be much more appropriate. At least TRY to be on-theme!
Oh I’m sorry did this get too dark? Well we live in hell so!
Cut to the women in the car on the way to the party--not even AT the party yet--and Sonja is already slurring and making no sense.
It’s important in these times to tell people how you feel about them, so I’d just like to take a moment here to tell you all that you are my friends because I, too, go to plumbing. Blessings to you.
They get to the party—which Leah accurately calls some “weird white people Eyes Wide Shut shit”—and Sonja beelines to a waiter and says this:
Which as a gin drinker? RELATABLE! Nobody ever has gin! Ever! Do you know how many parties I’ve been to where there’s 237 raggedy-ass bottles of whipped cream-flavored vodka but not even so much as a tiny airport bottle of gin? Honestly I’m tired of party hosts doing Big Vodka’s dirty work. This is precisely what Hillary Clinton warned us about.
Anyway, Sonja’s only getting started. Ramona’s friends start arriving and she’s introducing Tinsley, Leah and Sonja to these Trump enabling trash bags like they’re the goddamn Viscountess of Nottingham, and it’s completely ridiculous because Ramona has hella money but no class. Sonja gives Ramona the business about this and says the most beautiful thing a Housewife has ever said to another Housewife: “Just because we’re in a 39 million-dollar house doesn’t mean you have to act like a 39 million-dollar bitch.”
The Poet Laureate of the Midtown Comfort Suites by Choice Hotels™!!! Next we meet the guy who owns this $39 million house.
And LOL you’d think someone with enough money to install a dictator in the world’s oldest democracy would also have enough money to buy teeth that look like teeth and not mahjong tiles or something IDK that’s the best joke I could come up with and I sincerely apologize but this guy’s teeth are fucking very terrible! Anyway peep the look on Leah’s face as she meets Joseph Goebbels over here.
Tattoo her face over my face.
Goebbels leads them on a tour of the house, which the rest of the women are really not into, so Ramona spurs them all on by saying come on, there’s 10,000 square feet to cover. And Sonja says:
You guuuyyyys!! It’s happeniiiiing!!! Sonja’s going sideways!!!! Ramona, wisely, leaves to go plunge Goebbels’s face into her enormous breasts—which fun fact rank at a #9 Corundum on the Mohs Scale of Mineral Hardness—and while she’s doing all that, the girls’ friend Elyse states the obvious: Sonja was a trophy wife to her ex-husband, one of the heirs to the Chase Bank fortune. Which isn’t nice! But is also true!!! Naturally Sonja loses her goddamn mind. One minute she’s screaming…
The next minute she’s… well still screaming…
And then STILL screaming but also kissing?
And then finally she makes her case: She can’t be a trophy wife, you see, because:
Which: compelling! When’s the last time you saw a trophy wife with full, resplendent 70s bush? Never, I daresay! Anyway please enjoy this accidentally perfect screencapping outtake:
AN ICON!
The group disbands because they can’t bear to listen to Sonja shrieking anymore, and honestly I’m disappointed, I could watch this shit till I die. But! Thankfully we’re not yet done! Sonja gets right back to work embarrassing Ramona in front of all of the people we’re going to guillotine as soon as we’ve reached herd immunity.
She certainly pissed off this monster!
And she just. keeps . going.
When the revolution comes, we spare Sonja. Those are the rules. She’s a champion for the working classes!!!
An extremely horny champion for the working classes! But lest you think her work embarrassing pretenders to the throne is done, she… well, still keeps going...
And going…
And going…
I’m sorry to just keep giving you screencap after screencap but just look at this dude’s face.
Have you ever in all your days?! Sonja is the level of drunk that my girl Melissa and I were the night I bet her a drink she wouldn’t do a lap of the bar with both her dress AND a can of beer tucked into the waistband of her control-top panties and then she fucking did it AND let me take pictures, which I will send to you if you give me Patreon money! (JK no I won’t, but still.)
Anyway, we all have this friend, and we’ve all had this night with this friend, but have we ever had this night with this friend in a $39 million Hamptons mansion with the richest garbagepersons in the world?
ART!
It’s now the next morning and everyone’s absorbing the newest chapter of Spiders and Dog Piss: The Luann Delesseps Story—a nasty text to Ramona that she signed “goodbye from the lower level”—but honestly it’s hard to care about this in the wake of the fantastic show Sonja Morgan just gave us.
Us too, Sonja. Us too.
And there you have it: Episode 3! I really am working on taking less than a week to get these out and also write more things but I am a very busy woman of the 90s with many necessary appointments and I am doing my best!
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Okay! That’s it I guess! I love you please wear a mask whenever you leave your house and stop watching the news, your brain will thank you bye bye!
Omg!!! After watching last Thursday’s episode,who am I kidding,during last weeks episode when the glorious Sonja started in with her drunkenness I couldn’t wait for your recap. Brilliant!!! Thank you 🙏