There are many great things you can say about Brandi Glanville, the anti-hero of The Real Hornets Nest of Tiahoga Bluff.
You could say that she is beautiful. You could say that she is tall. You could say that she is blunt. Those are all true. But the most true — the truest — is that she is not having it.
No, Brandi Glanville is never having it, not for one moment. She does not care what it is, she does not want one (unless, of course, “it” is a glass of white wine, a book deal, a Xanax, a large penis, or a fur vest, then not only will she have it, but she will have several, as many as she can possibly handle until her hands fall off).
And there was a lot of “it” heading Brandi’s way last night. First of all we had to deal with the continued fallout of the morally corrupt Faye Resnick, who is potentially the worst person who has ever been on a Real Snatchsnatchers show. She is just a puddle of darkness turned into a toxic pudding and then set loose on the world.
She hammers after Brandi for God knows what reason and then won’t apologize for it. Brandi uncharacteristically leaves the house and goes outside, we assume to leave the party for good, but no.
She pulls a page from the Reality Television Guide to Fighting and Confrontational Ethics and just hangs outside the party waiting for someone to come outside and talk to her, watch her cry, and try to convince her to come back inside.
Of course, Kyle Richards, who thinks everything can be fixed with a wink and a whisper, falls for the trap. Lisa, Brandi’s one ally, joins the two and they all sit on the curb in their dresses, mostly cast offs from bridal parties they were in back in the ’90s. See, they did wear that dress again.
Brandi is inconsolable because she didn’t want to be ganged up on at yet another Real Headbangers party, which is what always seems to happen to her when she goes to one of these events.
Usually she fights because, as we know, she is not having it, but tonight she did not. She knew where this was going. They were on the Acela to Screamtown and Faye Resnick was in the club car just swirling some brown liquor in the bottom of a crystal glass waiting to punch Brandi’s ticket.
Brandi wanted to get off, she did not want to do this again. For once she just wanted someone to understand. So there they sit on the curb, Kyle, Brandi, and Lisa, like three glitzy monkeys: See No Evil, Speak Evil When Evil Comes for You, and If You’re Gonna Be Evil Come Sit By Me.
The other time Brandi wasn’t having it this episode was when Lisa finally orchestrated a Meeting in the Hall of Mirrors between the warring states of Brandi Glanville and that whore Shaennaeiouandsometimesy (seriously, this girl has never met a vowel she didn’t like).
Shaennaeiouandsometimesy not only used to sleep with Brandi’s ex-husband — talking abdominal muscle Eddie Cibrian — it seems like the two carried out quite a prolonged relationship, all while Eddie was married to Brandi and she was pregnant with their second child.
Brandi didn’t want to have this sit down but after consulting St. Camille, the Sybil of Grammer, she decided that it might provide some closure.
But that wasn’t the real reason. Shaennaeiouandsometimesy is on Vanderpump Knows Best, a new Bravo television programme, so this was a nice introduction to that show.
Yes, Brandi put herself in an emotionally vulnerable place so that her friend Lisa, who is an executive producer on the show that bears her last name, could be a success.
Lisa is literally profiting from Brandi’s pain. I gotta say, the integration of My Three Vanderpumps was some next level genius shit from Mr. Andrew Cohen and the suits (and skirts) at Bravo.
First of all, Shaennaeiouandsometimesy gets up from her sit down with Brandi and then walks into the back and starts talking to the other waitresses.
Then Lisa comes out and talks to her about the discussion and it looks like the Housewives, but something is a little off. The resolution is a bit better and the lighting is sunnier, crisper. Then, there’s the title: The Vander Bunch and we have been successfully snookered.
They dragged every single one of us right into a new show without even telling us that the show we wanted to watch was over. And if that wasn’t enough, they made the whole thing a two hour episode of Real Branding Platforms of CitiBank Pavillion so that our DVRs automatically recorded the first episode of The Facts of Vanderpump without even being told to do so. Genius. Diabolical genius.
As for what actually went down at their little detente, well, Brandi (everyone together now!) wasn’t having it. Oh hell no. Shaennaeiouandsometimesy sits down and starts crying and Brandi says, “I’m the one who lost everything.
If someone is going to cry right now, it’s not going to be you.” Brandi took a purse full of snaps, dumped them out over the top of this little whiny girl’s head and watched her drown in them.
Brandi did not have it, not even for a second. Then she sat there and continued to entertain this stupid little girl (who, for the record, is not nearly as hot as Brandi) without punching her in the face. She didn’t let her get away with anything and told Vowel Salad that she should have known better and that she was hurting someone.
But in the end, Brandi is a good and generous soul, and told her that Eddie was going to cheat no matter what, and that she doesn’t hate Shaennaeiouandsometimesy and that she shouldn’t be afraid of Brandi. See, Brandi is not having it so much that she will have it. She’s amazing.
Oh, and she called Faye Resnick a “chick with a dick,” which probably isn’t accurate (and not helping Brandi gain any friends) but it was really freakin’ funny.
We now pause a moment to bring you the latest installment of Living at Home With Yolanda Bananas Foster. Yolanda visits her enormous masterpiece of a refrigerator (seriously, that thing is like a Vermeer) and pulls out some ingredients and talks to the kids about how important it is to eat dinner together and how it’s important to model rather than play volleyball because playing volleyball will give you giant man shoulders and then no one will ever find you desirable again ever.
She tells the children that she bought them a horse to learn responsibility, because giving them chores or getting them a paper route isn’t sufficient. Here comes her husband, David Foster Wallace, who looks like a goldfish peering out of a plastic bag and is entirely awful. He sits down at the kitchen island and Yolanda, always the most proper person in the room, sits on the counter and puts her feet in the sink and eats her plate of pasta off her lap. Yes she put her feet in the sink to eat dinner.
Let me say that one more time so you can grasp the magnitude of what she did. She put her feet in the sink so that she could eat dinner. Oh, Yolanda, there is a reason you never leave the house to play reindeer games with the other ladies, isn’t there? Yes there is.
Speaking of new ladies, I think I’m going to start calling Marisa Zanuck “Fetch” because she is never going to happen. (Also, as far as cast members go, she’s kind of a dog — not like an ugly dog, just kind of lame). So Marisa comes over for a yoga date with Kyle and her yoga instructor, Mark.
This is great because usually the ladies go on activities and then the person they’re engaging with leaves them after 20 minutes so they can just sit there and talk about nonsense. Kyle and Marisa don’t really want to do yoga, they just want to talk shit about all the other Housewives.
Mark, well, he is there to do yoga. He is very serious. Mark is like, “Um, can you play attention please?” but they cannot and then he’s like, “Why don’t you stop talking about these stupid bitches and get into Warrior Two,” and finally he’s like, “You ladies are all stupid and you are disrespecting my yoga.” Good for Mark.
We didn’t get to see any of my beloved Kim Richards last night, but we did hear that Kyle is pissed at her because Kim is pissed that Kyle didn’t come to Chad’s birthday party which Kyle says she wasn’t invited to. Phew. Get all that? Kyle says she thought that once Kim got sober everything would be fine, but it’s not. No duh, Kyle.
That’s because the problem wasn’t Kim’s alcoholism. Well, that was part of the problem.
The other part of the problem is that Kyle can be a narcissistic tornado of need. Now that one part of the problem is fixed, the other part of the problem needs to be fixed before there’s no problem at all. That is just math. That Kyle doesn’t even realize that she has to change how she treats her sister just shows why there is a problem in the first place. Also that she is bad at math.
Now we have to talk about Taylor. Oh man, Taylor. First of all she was visited by some sort of clairvoyant/mystic named Alisha. She is absolutely nuts. She shows up with one of those smiles that just means trouble.
It’s not a real smile like she’s actually happy, and it’s not a fake smile that means she’s trying to pretend to be happy. It’s a smile that is not found in nature and that means that she is no stranger to the DSM IV. It’s like she’s smiling about something only she sees, and it’s not good.
She tells Taylor, “Oh, I came because I have some really great news for you. Something is going to change. Something good is going to happen…” “My lawsuit is going to settle?” “Yes! That’s exactly it. That is precisely what I saw. Yes, your lawsuit is going to settle. Here, suck on this ointment. Yeah, really rub it on your lips.” Alisha closes her eyes while they both digest the serum and she keeps scrunching her face and shaking her head no like she is telling the devil that lives on her shoulder that, no, she is not going to stab anyone today.
It’s freaky. Even Taylor thinks its freaky, and we’ve all seen the way she eats cotton candy.
Then Alisha gets up and starts asking questions and flailing around the room like a bird with one wing caught in a window. “Father no!” she shouts looking directly up into the air. “Father no!” she shouts bucking to the right, her arm extended. “Father yes!” she shouts bucking to the left and then grasping Taylor’s wrist in a way that makes everyone uncomfortable. That’s when I realized that Alisha is not a psychic.
No, she is just a person with Tourette’s. That’s all she is. She is twisting and turning and shouting and ticcing and that makes her look crazy. So she just tells people she does these things because she knows about the energy of the universe and then they give her money. That’s quite a scam. I wonder how much Taylor had to pay for the two of them running around the house ringing a bell and squirting a spray bottle? $300? Damn. Good scam.
Now to end our little stroll down the sidewalk of sadness with Miss Taylor Armstrong, we need to discuss her lawsuit. Well, that and the fact that she invited everyone to dinner at the conference room of the Hyatt in Sherman Oaks with overstuffed brown chairs and pretended like it was a posh restaurant.
Oh, and that she brought her lawyer as her date, just like that one party where she invited her doctor as her date. Thank god Taylor started doing her nails at home, or else her manicurist would be at her left side at every dinner party for the rest of eternity.
Anyway, Taylor had some shady “$1.5 million dollar lawsuit” and we do not know what it was about, but that it was with some former friend of Taylor and Russell’s and that when Russell originally settled the lawsuit one of the stipulations was that Taylor be held liable too. This sounds super shady. This does not sound like a real lawsuit. This sounds like some crazy shit that someone makes up to explain why they don’t have any money and it’s all a lie.
Then, we find out from Taylor’s lawyer that the settlement is that Taylor has to give up her wedding ring and two of her Hermes bags. OK, that is not a settlement. Sure, Taylor has no money and no assets and lives in a rented house, but no one says, “I’ll go away for a 10 carat ring and two $10K handbags.”
Sure, both of those assets are worth a lot of money, but a real person would say, “Sell the ring and the bags and then give us the cash.” No, this is some sort of extortion. This is some sort of shadiness. This might even be some sort of elaborate excuse as to why Taylor had to pawn her ring and two of her bags to pay off her bills. Who knows.
It’s all, well, it’s all very troublesome and not very well explained which makes us think it’s even more troublesome. If it was simple and made sense, then she could just spell it out for all of us and we would get it, but we don’t.
So Taylor leaves the Hyatt with her lawyer and he drops her off out in front of the house and she walks up the pave stones to the front door and the motion sense light snaps on before she gets there, casting harsh shadows across her face and temporarily blinding her.
Another night home, she thinks. Another night home. She goes in and there are pleasantries with the nanny and a status update on Kennedy who is upstairs asleep. Taylor thanks the nanny and says that she’ll see her next Tuesday. She takes off her heels and pads up the chilly stairs and turns left where Kennedy’s door is slightly ajar. She lets herself in, careful not to creak the door too loudly or step on anything.
She just wants to watch her sleep. She just wants to see her there in her pink pajamas, slowly inflating and deflating there in the slanted light from the outside. The motion sense light snaps off and it gets just a shade darker.
Taylor’s eyes take a minute to adjust and she watches Kennedy for a few more breaths, in and out, and then goes to Kennedy’s closet.
She moves the carpet over and underneath there is a board that she fishes out by digging her nails into the side. Underneath there is money. Stacks of it. Piles of it. It’s her “trust fund” that Russell was supposed to leave her. Ha! She thinks.
Not much left now, but the pile only looks small because she knew how large it once was. She takes a stack of 20s packed in a rapper and slips it into the pocket of her blazer and goes to put the board back but it slips from her fingers and lands with a thud. “Mommy,” Kennedy says from the bed, “What are you doing?”
Taylor puts the rug back and stands up slowly, screwing a smile into her face. “Nothing sweetie,” she says. “Go back to bed. Mommy’s just making sure everything will be OK.”
Follow Brian Moylan on Twitter @BrianJMoylan
[Photo Credit: Bravo]
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