Young Lady, Pull Yourself Together: An Open Letter to Sonja Morgan

Sonja, sit down. We need to talk about some things that are gonna be hard for you to hear.

When last night’s episode opened on the meeting in your apartment, you were already making me tense. Say what you will about Heather, but she’s a hugely successful business woman and she’s offered you her help, along with help from James Benard (who probably lies awake wondering why he ever agreed to do this). And you bring Ramona to sit in and bark out her critiques in between taking phone calls? Honey, why? What were you thinking?

Now this is where it gets hard. *deep breath*

Ok, this toaster oven thing? It is the DUMBEST IDEA EVER. I can already picture box after scratch-and-dent box of Sonja toaster ovens on clearance at Big Lots. Why is no one saying to you, “Hey Sonja, you’re already owe 7 million dollars because you backed out of that John Travolta movie. You CANNOT try to sell sexy toaster ovens. It will not work. Oh, and also? No one is going to buy your toaster oven cookbook. NO. ONE. People who are cooking the majority of their meals in a toaster oven are not looking for ways to incorporate truffle oil. They are looking for ways to keep the Pop Tart filling from burning the roofs of their mouths! Stop this. Now.”

And we need to discuss your drinking, Sonja. Hey, get back here! That stunt you pulled at Luann’s klassy Krismas party? The one where you thought you were being passionate and heartfelt and showing love to Luann? You looked P-I-T-I-F-U-L. Look, there’s a problem when Ramona “Crazy Eyes” Singer starts to look like the sane and sober one, telling you to zip it.

I imagine you’re feeling a lot of shame this morning having seen that episode. I feel your pain, Sonja. I do. A friend of mine took a video of me at my 39th birthday party and it was horrifying seeing it the next day! It was late night, and I was, um, very “tired”. Smoking a cigarette in my living room, I announced on a karaoke machine microphone (!) that it was my house and no one could tell me to stop. Here’s the problem with those moments when you’re “tired”: the way you THINK you look is not at all the way you REALLY look. It’s sad, girl. Sad.

Sonja, I’m gonna need you to pull it together soon. You were such a breath of fresh air when you first showed up on the scene. The Sonja that once spiced up every party has taken on a vaguely stale odor of desperation. Come on, S, you’re better than this.


P.S. This is from Big Ang:


photo: Bravo

12 thoughts on “Young Lady, Pull Yourself Together: An Open Letter to Sonja Morgan

  1. obtobt says:

    lovin’ the posts. just wish i could keep up with all of the episodes…. maybe we can have a viewing party one night!

  2. oh crap. I just posted above under my daughters account. oops. it was from me, victoria.

    • reallyrealatlantahousewife says:

      This is hilarious: I recognized it because she and Lucy were fooling around over here and I accidentally posted as Olivia on a friend’s blog!

      Viewing party sounds great…except that I am annoyingly serious when I watch, constantly telling the kids to be quiet!

  3. Ann McK. says:

    Now that you have revealed the existence of the 39th birthday video, you are honor bound to post it. Just sayin.

    • reallyrealatlantahousewife says:

      Aargh! I’m pretty sure it doesn’t exist anymore (it was more than 5 years ago!) but for the sake of journalistic integrity, I’ll ask my pal if she still has it (and silently pray she doesn’t).

  4. SO good!!! and totally correct!!!

    • reallyrealatlantahousewife says:

      Haha! So glad you liked it. I absolutely loved reading your blog and felt so relieved that there was someone else out there taking it seriously – in the RIGHT way, if that makes sense? Thanks for reading!

  5. Andy says:

    Lourve. You dish it well, Liberator.

  6. Nancy says:

    As a former bartender I have always said if a female could see a picture of herself totally wasted she would never do it in public again! For some reason they ALL just look horrible.

Talk to me.

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