Drinking and Tweeting (20 page)

When I began my
Housewives
journey, I was still recovering from my divorce, and I looked to the show as an opportunity to reinvent myself, if I was given the chance. At first, I didn’t think it was going to happen. I would read online about all the other amazing people they were interviewing and pour myself a drink. I thought I was never going to be that lucky, but I would still lie in bed daydreaming about how amazing it would be if I had my own voice and how much my life would change, if I could just get cast on this show. (I also fantasized about having people ask me for my autograph. I’m not sure why, but it sounded cool.)

I wanted to shed all the negativity in my life. I had adopted this bitter-Brandi persona, and in the press I still looked like the scorned ex-wife. I was desperate to extract myself from the D-list love triangle that I was entrenched in for the better part of three years, and I was eager to redefine myself. I wanted a fresh start.

One of my closest friends said to me, “Brandi, I can’t wait for the day when we google your name and there is no reference to Eddie or LeAnn. And better yet, I can’t wait for the day when you google LeAnn Rimes and your face pops up.”

“Ha,” I said. “Yeah, right!” I believed my sad little story would haunt me for the rest of my life—just like the HPV. The gifts that keep on giving.

After several interviews, months and months went by. I didn’t hear a thing from the producers, so I chalked it up as another loss. Things weren’t going so well for me at the time. A few weeks prior, I had broken my ankle and leg in a horrendous “walking accident.” That’s right, I was walking in sky-high stilettos and I tripped. It was the least glamorous and klutziest injury in the history of broken ankles, but I owned it.

Right before the show was set to begin filming its second season, I got a phone call on a Tuesday evening in the spring.

“Is this Brandi?” asked a sweet, high-pitched voice.

“Yes, this is she,” I said cautiously. Occasionally, I was on the receiving end of some prank phone calls when my number got out, so I was always a little guarded.

“This is Sally-Anne King from
The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
,” she chirped. “We were wondering if you’d be interested in coming to a party tomorrow night and being on camera?”

“Of course,” I said immediately. And that was it.
I didn’t even ask her for any details because I didn’t want to press my luck. I did, however, have to figure out what the hell to do about my broken foot. My friends told me I should cook up some tall tale about heli-skiing or horseback riding to tell the girls on camera—something that sounded exciting and posh. “Why would I do that?” I asked. “There’s enough pretension on that show without me. I think I’d rather just keep it real with my new ‘friends.’ ”

That night, I hobbled into the bathroom, grabbed my Chanel face-mask pot, and plopped onto the side of the bathtub. I wanted to look impossibly fresh for my first day of filming. I remember sitting there looking at the Ambien perched on the bathroom counter. Balancing on my crutches, I knocked the bottle into an open drawer and pushed it shut. Finally, things were looking up for me. I had something to look forward to, so I knew I wasn’t going to need any help. There would be more sleepless nights ahead, I was sure of it, but for the first time in a long time, I was going to have a good night’s sleep.

I
f you have ever watched any of the shows in the
Real Housewives
franchise, you already know that Bravo doesn’t define
housewife
in the traditional sense—and for that I’m grateful. When Bethenny Frankel joined
The Real Housewives of New York
cast in 2008, she was a single entrepreneur living in an Upper East Side rental. Today’s “housewife” is a sassy, clever, opinionated woman who faces challenges head-on and never shies from telling it like it is—all while hoping to create a happy “home life,” regardless of what kind of home she has and who lives there.

Oftentimes, people’s demeanor or attitude will change as soon as the camera’s On light flickers. It’s not as if I were revealing something hugely profound; a kinder/gartner could probably draw the same conclusion. It’s like when you start videotaping a child, and he or she goes crazy for a minute. However, I never noticed how much people would change when they got in front of the camera, until I stepped into a bit of the spotlight myself.

While I was definitely nervous the first few times I was filmed, I was always just being me—and apparently, that’s a rarity. Being self-deprecating and able to
recognize my own flaws were attributes that viewers appreciated.

People thanked me for shrugging my shoulders and laughing when my three-year-old son peed on Adrienne Maloof’s lawn. I didn’t think I was doing anything groundbreaking. I had a little boy I was still potty training, and he had the decency to get out of the pool to pee. What kind of mother would I be if I punished him for (a) not going to the bathroom in his pants and (b) knowing that proper etiquette is to remove yourself from the pool before urinating? I consider that a win. Mothers can feign shock all they want, but please don’t act as if in a pinch you’ve never told your kids to pee behind a tree.

The show became a megaphone for my filter-free, oftentimes crass commentary. I was never the kind of girl to fake it—not for a man (well, maybe a couple of times) and definitely not for a camera. Whom would that serve? Can you imagine how boring a proper, buttoned-up Brandi in a one-piece bathing suit would be? Never going to happen. Ever.

I’m not everyone’s cup of tea, but that’s the great part: I don’t have to be. You don’t have to like me, but you
damn well know whatever is coming out of my mouth is what I believe the truth to be (poor Winston Churchill). I learned a lot of lessons over the past few years, and I’ve found that honesty is always the best policy. Lying only gets you more lying—and mounting lies only lead to stress. And stress can lead to premature aging and oftentimes depression. I have my Lexapro, so I’m pretty much just worried about the wrinkles.

I
t’s true Los Angeles doesn’t have actual seasons, but for a week or so in late September, you start to notice the days getting shorter and the night air getting a bit cooler. Autumn is quickly approaching.

One autumn evening, I peered out the window to check on Mason and Jake, who were playing in the backyard, and stopped to gaze at the pink sky. The sun was setting, and my canyon home had a perfect western exposure. I grabbed a glass of wine and my iPad and headed out back. The boys were on the swings laughing hysterically as Chica and Sugar jumped at their feet. I clicked on the iPad and went to Google. I decided to
type my name into the “news” tab and see what popped up. I started scrolling through a list of stories about the upcoming season of
Housewives
, a press release about my upcoming book, and a few photos of me promoting my new dress line. It took a minute for it to register, but to my utter amazement, there was not one mention of my ex-husband or his new wife. I put the iPad down and took a moment to appreciate what had just happened.

It was official. I had moved on.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I
would like to thank my ex-husband, Edward Cibrian, for giving me all the material I could ever need to write this book and for helping me discover the strong independent woman inside of me.

I want to thank my dear friend and boss, Alex Baskin, for believing in me and fighting for me, even though we have never slept together. Also Jennifer Redinger for helping me through the casting process and rooting for me to get the job.

Thank you to lord of the gays, Andy Cohen. A big fat kiss to Doug Ross, Dave Rupel, and all of Bravo TV and Evolution media. Especially the crew who have spent
many long days in my home filming and have become an extension of my family.

To my REAL family, Guy and Judy, thank you for raising me to always fight my own battles and never give up, you both amaze me with every second that passes. Thank you for giving me all the information I needed to make my own decisions and become an individual. I am lucky to have such wonderful parents. To my big sister Tricia and younger brother Michael, thank you for the weirdest and most memorable childhood ever. I mean, the stories we could tell. Those were the days. I love you both, as well as your families. I’m sorry for making you believe that you were adopted and that mom, dad and, I were moving to Spain without you guys—hahahaha.

I want to thank ALL of my BFFs, who in the tough times have become one giant surrogate family to me. Trina Prantil my soul mate, Darin Harvey the best human being I know, Jennifer Gimenez my sister from another mother, Janelle Hallier for being generous to a fault, Masha Chase for loving me even after we argue, Claudia Orellana for having the biggest heart, Adrienne Janic Brutsman for being the most loyal person on the planet, Kristen Taekman for sticking it out through the
thick and thin with me, Etirsa Inniss for sharing Trina with me, Leslie Bruce for giving me the BEST advice, Emma Heming Willis for showing me how a lady should act but still being able to go gangster, Aime Satchu for always keeping it sexy, Amanda Gold for keeping in me shape while also acting as my therapist, Cari Lee Sladek for showing me how to have fun again, Geneva Wasserman for always coming through for me, Jezika Adams for being way smarter than me, Hillary Tarpin for standing the test of time, Evelyn Subramaniam for being a ray of sunshine all of the time, Gabriella Threlked, for again keeping it sexy, Kimberly Verbeck for letting me and the boys crash on the couch when we were homeless, Krista Heitkamp for making me realize I shouldn’t get bunion surgery, Linda Alibrandi for taking me back. Thank you to Crista Klayman for introducing me to so many of my wonderful friends, Lisa Vanderpump and Ken Todd for inviting me into their family, Yolanda Foster for quickly becoming one of my favorite people, Ryan Basford for introducing me to my “gaygent” Michael Broussard, Michael Meldman for making me feel young and beautiful, Stacey Garza for teaching me how to party, Susan Holmes McKagen for being a total rock star, Dr. Sott
Wang for always taking care of me and the boys, Willow Cobanas for being forever young. Thanks to my best editor in the world, Jeremie Ruby-Strauss, who is extremely smart, handsome, and fit (but also extremely married), as well as his assistant, Heather Hunt; publisher Louise Burke and editor-in-chief Jennifer Bergstrom for believing in me; Sally Franklin, Lisa Litwack, Emily Drum, John Paul Jones, and Jamie Putorti for producing a beautiful package; and Jennifer Robinson, Mary McCue, Natalie Ebel, and Ellen Chan for getting the word out.

I feel blessed to have you all in my life and you make me a better person.

BRANDI GLANVILLE
officially joined the cast of Bravo’s
The Real Housewives Beverly Hills
in season three and quickly became the show’s most outrageous breakout star. She lives with her two sons, Mason and Jake.

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