Let Me Tell You Something Read online

  As with any joke, how funny it is depends on who’s pulling the trigger. It’s a fine line, and from time to time, my feelings can still get hurt. If someone lashes out at my family, it still stings. But I’m getting better at letting the personal insults roll off my back.

  Laughter has helped with everything from grief to loss to fame. Whether life is headed up or down, we have a choice between laughter and tears, and if I can help it, I’ll choose laughter every time.

  Ask Caroline

  Caroline, I’m at my wit’s end. I have two daughters, one is fifteen and one is fourteen. I have a great relationship with the younger one, but the older one has stopped talking to me. She locks herself in her room all night, and is silent at family dinners, though she rolls her eyes every time I speak. It’s her sixteenth birthday next month, and she refuses to have a family dinner or even a party with her friends. What can I do to get our relationship back on track?

  I’m assuming you haven’t had a conversation about this with your daughter yet, and you should do so. Immediately! It’s so important to communicate openly with your children. Don’t let your daughter think the only time you talk to her is when there’s a problem.

  Take her shopping or out to lunch and have the conversation. Keep it light, so it doesn’t feel like an intervention. Be positive and supportive, and LISTEN to what she has to say. Don’t compare her to your other daughter. She’ll probably be defensive and difficult at first, but keep it relaxed and friendly. If she does open up, don’t start preaching. Just keep listening. And be patient—she’s only fifteen and she may not be able to fully verbalize what she’s feeling.

  Keep making time to talk to her, and keep a close watch on her. If she regresses or if her grades begin to slip or if she starts hanging out with a bad crowd, then you should seek professional help. Start with her guidance counselor before you go to a doctor.

  The teenage years are tough. Kids don’t feel like kids, but they don’t yet fit into the adult world. If you give your daughter love and attention, she’ll come around. Good luck!

  Everybody shits on a

  bowl. Never allow yourself

  to be intimidated

  I’ve never ever thought I was better than anyone, and I’ve also never thought anyone was better than me. I give credit to my dad. “Caroline,” he would say, “be strong. Caroline, be smart. Caroline, don’t take anybody’s bullshit.” And then he’d pause, and with a wave of his hand he’d close with, “Everybody shits on a bowl.”

  Now you can see where I get my tell-it-like-I-see-it attitude. What my dad was really saying is that no matter who a person is in their public life, whether they’re a movie star, the president, or the clerk at the grocery store, we’re all human. We’re all equal. We all shit on a bowl. As coarse as this sounds, all it means is that we’re all people, we’re all equal, and you shouldn’t be intimidated by anyone.

  I always think of his words of wisdom before a big meeting. If I was about to meet the president of the United States, I would be cool as a cucumber. I’d remind myself that he’s a person, just like me, and I’d be calm. I can go onstage in front of five thousand people, no problem. Just before I walk out there, I remind myself that each and every one of them spent some alone time in the bathroom this morning. We’re all the same.

  I cannot tell you how many times this little bit of wisdom from my father has saved me.

  A few summers ago my husband and I took a wonderful trip to Jordan. I fell in love with the country, its exotic sights. Long story short, the Manzos ended up hanging out with the prince and princess of Jordan. (I know, sometimes I can’t believe my life.)

  One night I was invited to a dinner party with the princess and the prince at their palace. It was gorgeous but also very formal, and I was advised of the rules I needed to follow when interacting with His and Her Highness. I was seated next to the prince, and at the beginning of dinner I leaned over to him. “What’s up?” I joked. Every­body suddenly looked at me, in horror. But the prince just smiled widely, and we ended up having a fascinating conversation. I talked to him like I would talk to anyone else. He’s just a man after all. He loved my openness, and we had the best time.

  I wasn’t trying to be rude or break the rules. He seemed like a nice guy and I just wanted to give him the chance to talk like a regular person. I love meeting people, and I am always polite. I shake hands well, I make eye contact, and I engage with the person immediately. But I never forget, we’re all the same. We all shit on a bowl.

  If I ever meet the queen of England, I’ll do whatever they tell me; I’ll bow, I’ll curtsy. But it wouldn’t be out of character for me to say, “Hey, Your Majesty, what’s up?” She’s Queen Elizabeth, but she’s also Elizabeth who’s going to go home and feed her dogs and wash her face, just like I do every night.

  No matter what you’ve heard about a person before you meet him, whether he’s famous or powerful or just someone with a reputation for anger, I believe that most people want to connect, they want to be able to relate to others and be accepted.

  I’ve taught my kids the same thing. We saw Bill Clinton at an event recently, and they were so excited. “Go talk to him,” I said. They all got nervous but I told them, “Remember, he’s just like us, don’t make me say it!” And they all went over and talked to him. He was so lovely, so gracious. He talked to them for about ten minutes and took pictures with them. They were all so elated after they met him—that man is living history, and he was so kind to them.

  To this day, I’ve never been starstruck. I went to the White House Correspondents’ dinner last year. It was a great experience, but I treated it just like any other dinner at The Brownstone. So what if I had George Clooney to my right, and Kate Hudson to my left? I focused on the guests at my table. I ended up sitting next to Ryan Kwanten from True Blood, and we had a blast, laughing and joking all night. I didn’t feel like I had to run around and schmooze and get pictures with all the stars, I just wanted to enjoy myself.

  What was weird that night—and is weird always—is the concept that I’m famous in any way, and that people sometimes have a hard time talking to me because they know me from TV. Fans will get all nervous when they approach me, and it blows my mind. I always want to remind them that I’m just like them, we all use the toilet, we all have bad breath, and we’re all human. I get in trouble at public events because I frequently run over my time limits. But I want to make sure that if my fans cared enough to show up, they get a chance to really talk to me to know the real me. Publicists are always trying to hurry me along, but these lovely people got me here, and the least I can do is give them a decent conversation.

  At the end of the day, I’m nothing special. I’m just the same Caroline I’ve always been. I happen to be a lucky bitch, nothing more than that. I have no talent, I don’t sing, I don’t dance. My face doesn’t scare people, but it ain’t stunning. This body is what it is at fifty-one years of age. The adoration is something I have a difficult time with. But I’ll always be gracious about it. I’m grateful that you’re reading my book, and I hope my show makes you laugh. But at the end of the day, I’m just like you.

  Tell the truth. Lies will

  always bite you in the ass.

  The truth is something you can never escape. It will always catch you. Truth comes from maturity and knowing who you are. I know myself. I’m five foot one and 130 pounds. I’m fifty-one and I’m wrinkly. I have very pretty eyes and a great rack—and yes, both are real; I would never lie about that, what’s the point? When I started on this show, I knew they wanted drama. I also knew enough about TV to know that trying to bullshit while you have a house full of cameras recording your every move is just about the stupidest thing in the world. You tell a lie on a reality show, they’re just going to run the footage of you doing the thing you deny, while you sit there and destroy your credibility. Lying makes anyone look like a fool, but being caught in a lie on a reality show makes you look so much worse.

  In the ye
ars since I started on the show, there has been a string of very well documented catfights, and I have refused to be drawn into nearly all of them. The only time I reacted to the crap was at the season-one reunion, and at that time, I only got angry because what was being discussed was destructive to my parents. They’re off limits.

  Ever since then, I have steered clear of all the catfights that the public seem to love. I don’t need to get involved. Frankly, on the show and in real life, my policy is to never engage with a liar. If you are distorting the truth to serve yourself, that’s your problem, not mine. Say anything you want, true or not. I will weather the storm. I will take the beating, but I will never fight back. I will never honor the lie with a response. I think that my character speaks louder than that. I know my truth, and I know whatever that truth is will eventually come out.

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  Reunion shows are incredibly draining, and they take forever to tape. The first year, it took us eight hours to cover a season that was only six episodes long. Ever since, we’ve shot for between ten and twelve hours. We have breaks, of course—we stop to eat, and we can get our makeup retouched if we cry—but these shoots are tough. There are no rules, anything and everything is fair game once the cameras start rolling. It’s stressful, and I’m always glad that Jacqueline is there with me—an ally is the most important accessory at a reunion show! No matter how much I prepare, Andy loves to throw curveballs at a reunion. So far, I’m lucky that he hasn’t really been able to spring anything on me, but that doesn’t mean he won’t at some point. There are no words for how exhausted I am at the end of a reunion taping. I usually just have a quiet dinner with Al, and he calms me down.

  I have seen lies go bad. I’ve seen them destroy marriages, families, and lives. It’s never worth it in the end. So I don’t mind keeping my distance from a lie. I’ll take the momentary public humiliation, because I know at the end of the day, I’ll be fine. But when a lie comes around and hits the liar, it hits them hard.

  I’m not going to pretend the lies don’t bother me. Just because I choose not to address them, doesn’t mean I’m not boiling inside. The most annoying thing is to be sitting across from someone who is lying to your face, and you know it. This happens a lot on the reunion shows. I will always give a liar every opportunity to come clean. I try to bring the conversation around to an opportunity for them to make things right. But if they continue to stick with the false story, it makes me very, very angry, or more accurately, very frustrated. There’s something amazing about people who are guilty. They yell. They scream. They need to convince. When someone is not lying, they talk calmly. There’s no guilt. Guilty people need an audience, they need theatrics, to make themselves believable.

  My first impulse when a liar starts to scream and defend him- or herself is to set things straight. To tell the liar I know they’re lying, that they’re a terrible person for lying, and how dare they? But I hold back. Even when it’s someone who habitually lies to me, I realize that they’re never going to change. I follow my own advice, I disengage, I nod my head and I walk away. I have bigger fish to fry.

  I don’t have a poker face. When someone’s lying to me, my face lets them know that I’m not stupid. I know exactly what they’re doing. You’ve probably seen this face on TV. I can’t hide it. My body language is stupidly blunt. It takes a lot for me to turn you off. But you will know I turned you off, and in your heart and soul you’ll know why I did it. You’ll know I can see through you.

  Ask Caroline

  Caroline: I had a falling-out with my best friend a few years ago. We’ve recently reconnected, and I would like to invite her to my family events. Due to the nature of our fallout I’m concerned that not everyone in my family will let bygones be bygones and welcome her back to the fold. What would be the best way to approach my concerns with my friend and my family members?

  Baby steps! First of all, if you found forgiveness in your heart and want to have this person in your life again, that’s your choice. I’m a little curious to know what the falling-out was about, since you feel like your family will be against a reconciliation. Not knowing the situation, all I can suggest is that you sit down with your family members and tell them how you feel and why you want to move forward with the relationship. Listen to what they have to say with an open mind and know that they are coming from a place of love and concern. Talk it out rationally.

  I would also let your friend know that there may be issues. How she handles it will be an indication of where her mind-set is on the relationship as well. Your friend should want to move along in a proactive way and understand that there may be some crow to eat.

  Once you get past these little hurdles, proceed with caution and just enjoy yourselves, build on the good times and leave the bad in the past.

  Relationships are never easy, but those that are willing to fight for them are keepers. Good luck.

  I’ve seen a lot in my lifetime, and I’ve seen a lot of good people do stupid things. I’ve seen a lot of heartbreaking situations over an untruth, and it was never worth it. I always tell my children the truth, and sometimes the truth hurts. But I want the same honesty in return. Don’t spare my feelings, you’re not doing me any favors.

  Lies push people to the point of no return, and some lies are so bad you can never come back from them. I’d rather deal with the truth that hurts for ten minutes than deal with a lie for a lifetime.

  I may not be the smartest

  or the prettiest, but you

  will remember me.

  I am smart but I’m not the smartest. I’m not unattractive, but I’m not the prettiest. But, trust me, you’ll remember me.

  When I engage in conversation with you, I’m all yours. If you’re going to take the time to have lunch or dinner with me, then the least I can do is give you my full attention. It’s a matter of respect, simple as that.

  It’s almost a disservice to me that I’ve become known through the show as an opinionated person. Sure, I have a lot to say, but I also love to listen to people. You can learn a lot by listening. Listen between the lines. Sometimes people want your help, or your understanding, but the full truth is too hard for them to say. So listen well, and listen intuitively.

  It’s funny, as much as I don’t love being interviewed, when I am sitting talking to someone, even a complete stranger, I find myself asking question after question. I want to learn more about people. What makes them tick? What motivates them? I’ve never been to a therapist, ever. I haven’t ever felt like I needed one. But I’ve been told that sometimes I act like one.

  I’m sure this is a direct result of being the middle kid in a big family. There were the older kids, the younger kids, and then there was me, stuck in the middle of both.

  I learned early on it was better to listen, and keep quiet. I read the situation and acted accordingly. I never found myself taking sides; instead I was able to develop good friendships with all of my siblings, for the most part.

  It wasn’t until I was an adult that I learned to engage with other adults. As a child, I was painfully shy to the point of complete silence. I definitely didn’t make a splash as a kid. But as an adult, I got my sea legs. I realized I had opinions, and I became unafraid to share them. And it just grew from there. But being opinionated was secondary to the importance I placed on truly listening to others, working to understand them and learning from them. That’s what makes me memorable.

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  We have absolutely no control over what makes it onto the air. Sometimes you’ll film a scene that you’re proud of, and when the episode comes along, it’s missing. I shot a scene that I was proud of with Lauren during her weight loss struggle in season four. She was frustrated with the person she saw in the mirror, and I told her about the Lauren that the world sees—a cute, brave girl with a great sense of humor and a wonderful boyfriend who loves her very much. I was heartbroken when it ended up on the cutting-room floor, because it gave really good context to the rest
of her weight struggle. But at the end of the day, we just have to have faith in our producers—they have done such a great job so far.

  I wish I was funnier. I love it when someone can just be the life of the party, swing from the chandeliers, make everybody laugh. That’s a true gift. It’s just not one of my gifts.

  (On the flip side, I hate it when people do stupid or contrived things just to get attention. Through my life experiences and my time on the show, I’ve encountered my fair share of people who hurt others so that they can get attention. People who make themselves feel better at the expense of another can go to hell. They’re not worth a glance in their direction; they mean nothing to me.)

  I just hope at the end of this journey, people remember me as someone who always had integrity, and stuck to her beliefs. If it works out that in five years, nobody remembers me at all, I’m fine with that. I’ll still make my mark on the people that I meet.

  You have only one life.

  Take that stage and own it.

  I’ve seen so many people die before their time, and it always breaks my heart. I wonder what their last thoughts were, and what their regrets were. For a relatively unadventurous girl from Queens, I’ve already had a remarkable life, and that has come from being ready to step up when a good opportunity comes my way.