Let Me Tell You Something Read online

  The premiere was at 9:00 PM on a Monday night. We were flying home to New Jersey the next morning on a 7:00 AM flight. On the return flight, I took my seat on the plane and the flight attendant immediately came over to me and said, “I saw you on TV, I think you’re sweet.” Then the guy behind me chimed in, “Oh, you’re that lady from TV last night, I liked your show.”

  This was not even twelve hours after the show hit the air. Holy shit. It snowballed from there. All of a sudden people wanted us to go on talk shows, to do magazine shoots, and everywhere I went, I was stopped. It just bewildered me. Overnight, people started thinking that I was a celebrity. They acted differently around me. I did not like it.

  I wasn’t prepared to lose my anonymity the way I did. If you Google me, you’ll get a map to my house. We have drive-bys the whole weekend. People find my unlisted numbers and they call them until I change them.

  Fans will also just park their car and walk right up my driveway. There’s never a day that’s completely private anymore. I just had to get rid of my mailbox at my house, because unsolicited visitors were leaving gifts in my mailbox, which was weird enough, and then they started stealing my mail! One day, we’ll probably have to move from this house that we built and raised our kids in. It just won’t be possible to live privately here. Would you like a stream of strangers banging on your door while you’re trying to vacuum?

  There’s a common misconception that because you’ve watched me on the show that you know me and it’s fine to come to my house and knock at the door as if we’re friends, or to grab me in the street and kiss me. It’s crazy. Andy Cohen explained it to me best. “Caroline, when you laugh, people laugh,” he said. “When you cry, they cry. They’re in your life.” An actor plays a role, and the viewers don’t see her in their home, there’s a detachment. But I’m in their homes every single week through the show, and viewers are in mine, so that makes people feel familiar when they see me.

  I’ve become public property, but I’ve also gotten amazing opportunities from the Housewives. I got to watch my sons’ faces light up as I stood on the field at Giants Stadium. One night I was on a red carpet with Christopher and he tugged at my arm, all excited, because Adam Sandler was standing right next to us. Our family has laughed at Sandler’s movies since the kids were tiny, so it was a surreal moment for us.

  People give me grief for saying I’m not loving being famous. They ask me why I did the show if I’m so against fame. I get it, and if I’d had any idea that the show would be so successful, it may have prepared me for what it’s done to my life. Believe me, I’ve tried to get used to the fame part of my job, but I’m still not completely comfortable with it. I still see myself as the old Caroline. I hate doing red carpets; I don’t have a pose for those moments like a lot of the other Housewives do. I call it the Housewives stance, but I cannot master it. I’ve tried to get it right, but it’s just not something I can do. When the other ladies pose, they look glamorous and fierce. When I try it, I just look fake and stupid. I could try harder to master it, to embrace this notion of celebrity, but that’s just not me. Never will be. I still believe what I said in my first interview with producers: “I don’t belong here.”

  Since joining the show

  I can’t believe I’ve met . . .

  Ellen Barkin: She loved my line “let me tell you something about my family,” so Andy Cohen had me call her and leave it on her voice mail. She thought that was hilarious and she asked me out to dinner. We had a really nice night. She’s awesome, I love her.

  Rosie O’Donnell: Rosie is someone whose career I’ve watched and admired for so many years. For me to know her now is just crazy. I respect her tenacity with her career and her life. She’s an amazing woman.

  John Legend and Christy Teigen: We’ve become friends since our first meeting. They are a great couple, and they’re adorable together.

  Hugh Hefner: Hef’s been a part of our lives for so long that to be talking to him in his own home was a dream come true. It was just very, very surreal and cool.

  Ryan Kwanten: We spent hours together at the White House Correspondents’ dinner, and it was a pleasure to find out he’s the sweetest, most down-to-earth guy. I laughed all night.

  Perhaps the hardest thing about moving into the public eye has been the constant assumptions about my life. I’ve heard them all—that my sons are gay, that my daughter’s a fat pig, that my husband’s in the mob. I’ve been called a fat, redheaded dyke. Some might say that because I put myself out there, I should deal with these insults. To hell with them! I agreed to be on a TV show, yes, but that doesn’t give anyone the right to be mean or disrespectful.

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  The taping for the first-season reunion was disgusting. It was so clichéd, in a bad-movie-about-Jersey way: it was filmed in a warehouse by a rail yard, in a very industrial area. We needed to be by Jacqueline’s hospital as she was about to go into labor, so they chose this random place. We suspected it was going to be a tough reunion for Jacq already, so the last thing we needed was for her to be stressed about going into labor in New York City. When I walked into that place, I was shocked at how tacky and cheesy it was—I mean, that place was falling apart. It was our first big taping for the show, and it couldn’t have been in a dingier place. I remember thinking, Is this what America thinks of us? Our subsequent reunion tapings, at the Borgata or wherever, are so much more glamorous, even if they’re still as stressful.

  I value and appreciate my fans. I will stop and talk to as many people who want to talk to me. I’ve gotten on the phone with more mothers, sisters, daughters, and grandparents than I can remember, just because they wanted me to talk to them because they get excited to associate with a “celebrity.” But I’m still just a regular person trying her damnedest to make a good impression in an irregular life.

  I’ve never been afraid

  to speak my mind.

  I’ve always loved to talk, ever since I was young. When my sister Frannie watches me on TV, she tells me not a thing has changed. She sees me talk to Jay Leno and Andy Cohen just how I used to talk to her when we were growing up. As one of eleven kids, I learned early on how to hold my own at the dinner table. Being part of such a huge family taught me the art of conversation, and on top of that, my father instilled in me the importance of never being afraid to speak my mind.

  Ask Caroline

  Hi, Caroline! I’m a first-time mom. My daughter is nine months old, and I’m at home with her. I’ve recently decided to go back to school to get my master’s. I’m feeling a little guilty about this, but she’ll only be alone twice a week, four hours one morning, five hours one evening per week. Her dad and teenaged stepsister will watch her while I’m at school, but I just can’t shake this feeling of guilt. Am I doing the right thing?

  Good for you. Don’t feel guilty at all. Your daughter is in good hands and won’t even know you’re gone. We all have the mommy guilt button, we all have it but we have to learn to shut it off every now and then.

  Look at the big picture: you’re doing something to better yourself, which in turn will provide better employment opportunities for you if you decide to reenter the workforce. Being a mother is the most important role in your life, but it’s always important to take this time for yourself and follow your dreams.

  That’s why when this show came along and we got asked to make the rounds at talk shows for promotion, I welcomed it. Talk shows have always been a piece of cake for me, even though some might say my very first appearance on a talk show was anything but a cakewalk. I was with Jacqueline and Dina on The View, and there was palpable tension in the air as we took the stage, in front of millions of viewers. I wasn’t sure where it was coming from—until I got ambushed by all of the women of The View!

  We were guests of the show just after Bravo had premiered the Housewives episode where Christopher launched his strip club/car-wash idea. Suddenly, in the middle of my first live appearance on national TV, the conversation turned to wh
at my son had done, with the women saying it was inappropriate for a mother to allow her son to work with strippers. Even though this was happening on live television, the drama didn’t faze me a bit. I just looked at them and said, So what?

  Of course that only made things worse. They wanted me to get defensive and give them some fireworks. “What’s wrong with strippers?” I continued. I just sat there and didn’t get heated. I told them I supported my son and that was that. People were shocked afterward that I stood up to The View crew; they can be an intimidating bunch. To me, it was my only option. They’d gone after my kid, I’d defended myself. They didn’t scare me, they didn’t bother me. I’ve never been afraid to speak my mind.

  Not much scares me. I’ll go on any show and talk to anyone. But I’m far less comfortable doing print interviews. A bad journalist can twist your words so much that when the article comes out, you’re actually saying the opposite of what you meant. It’s infuriating, but it happens much more frequently than you would think. That’s why I like live TV—people can see the actual words coming out of my mouth—there’s no mixed messages.

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  Sometimes during my interview tapings I will start crying, and before you know it, the whole crew will start crying too. Guys and girls alike, all crying with me. It becomes very strange, because they have to cry in complete silence to save the shot, so you see them trying to hold back the tears. Their chins start to tremble, their eyes will fill with tears, and they struggle to keep it in check, because if they make one loud sob, the whole scene is ruined. Have you ever tried to cry silently? It’s not easy. In a way, it makes me feel very supported, to be able to be so emotionally open, and have my crew, my friends, right there with me.

  Plus it’s a lot of fun, one of my guilty pleasures. I grew up loving talk shows, the rapport a host can have with his or her guests. My favorites are the shows that tape in front of live audiences. The energy is insane. I remember one time when I was cohosting with Regis, he told me I had been too hard on Danielle Staub. I looked at him and said, “Fine, you go spend a couple of weeks with her and tell me what you think afterward.” Regis burst out laughing, and the audience followed suit. It made me feel good that I just made a roomful of people laugh—I forgot for a moment that we were on a TV show streaming live across the country. I love the spontaneity of moments like this.

  I don’t know what the future holds, but if the opportunity to host a talk show came along, I would do it in a heartbeat. I can think of nothing more fun than having a different group of people to meet every day. I used to dream of being a lawyer or a child psychologist, because I like talking to people and finding out about them. I’m all about joking around with people and busting their chops. It’s what I do every day anyway, so whether I continue to do it on TV or just in real life, I’ve got my questions prepped and I’m ready to go.

  I have to pinch myself every day

  to make sure I’m not dreaming.

  Every once in a while I get this crazy moment of clarity, like when I was sitting thirty yards away from Barack Obama at the White House Correspondents’ dinner, or when I was about to walk out onto the stage of the Jay Leno show. At those moments, my brain will snap and all I can think is, “What the hell am I doing here?” I pause and say to myself, “Just go with it, Caroline, have fun.” I relax and I enjoy whatever strange situation I’m in.

  Never in a million years would I have imagined that my life would turn out this way. The people I’ve met, the things I’ve done—just unbelievable. I have to pinch myself back to reality. I pinch myself while we’re shooting the show too. Reality TV is real. What comes out of our mouths is real, and these things happened. But if you’re foolish enough to drink the Kool-Aid, and change who you are because there’s a camera on you, that’s when the walls will come tumbling down and you will become a puppet for the show. If you don’t stay true to yourself, you’re headed for trouble. No amount of money will make me say something on TV that I wouldn’t say in real life.

  Obviously, the show requires us to spend more time together than we normally would. There are times when we are filming that it’s the last place on earth I want to be. I can sense when I’m being set up to help get sparks to fly. At those times I pinch myself, I remind myself to always keep my feet on the ground, to keep my cool until the storm passes. I know that if I walk away, the cameras catch it, and it becomes drama. But if I say anything at all, I am suddenly part of that fight.

  My top five “pinch myself” moments that have happened because of the show

  1. Meeting Hugh Hefner. It meant the world for me to take Al to the Playboy Mansion and then be pushy enough that he got to meet Hef.

  2. Walking onstage at Jay Leno and realizing as I walked out there that I was on the Johnny Carson set. I watched Carson my whole life.

  3. Attending the White House Correspondents’ dinner. That was definitely a What Am I Doing Here? moment. And it was a lot of fun.

  4. Judging the Miss USA pageant. I have watched that pageant since I was a little girl, and to think that I was part of it, even as a judge, was surreal and cool.

  5. Writing this book. Books have been my salvation and my escape for my entire life. To be able to write one has been an incredible honor.

  I try my best to navigate these situations—I pinch myself and it reminds me who Caroline really is—and I don’t have time to waste on something so petty.

  At this point, being a part of the show is a business decision, not a personal one. I’ve gone through too many fires on this show to quit now. But for all the grief that has come from the show’s inherent drama, there have been moments where I’ve needed to pinch myself because things were so great. In what other life would I get to say that we were invited to the Super Bowl—my whole family—by the Mara family? We all got to sit with the owners of our hometown team, and watch them win the Super Bowl, and attend the private party afterward. Being part of that was truly a once-in-a-lifetime miracle, sharing the victory with a family of very good people who came into our lives as a result of the show. It was an incredible day.

  My favorite moment of that day was looking at the faces of my husband and kids as we watched our team’s victory. This was the greatest pinch-myself moment of them all. So far . . .

  You wanna be on a reality

  show? You better toughen up.

  I have always considered myself to be a survivor, but in no way was I prepared for what happened when this show hit. Getting bullets shot at you from all directions, about everything you hold dear, really tests you. Dealing with people who don’t know you but think they know everything about you has been challenging and strange. But from it all I’ve also learned that I’m a hell of a lot stronger than I thought I was!

  The most important lesson I’ve taken away from my time with the Housewives is the strength of silence. I’m sure a lot of readers have come to this book hoping that I will spill a lot of secrets or talk about my fellow cast mates. Sorry to disappoint you. Everything I need to say about the people on my show has been said on the show. There aren’t any secrets or hidden information that I can share.

  My trust in human nature has been shaken. Some of the Internet comments that have been written about me have been so awful, they’ve shocked me, and that’s not easy. I quickly learned that people are cowards behind computers, armed with their anonymity they say things they’d never have the courage to say to my face. Drama sells; happiness, cookies, and cream do not. It took me a long time to realize these stories aren’t personal, and that the people who read them quickly forget about them the next day. It was a lot of work for me to become OK with it, and accept it as part of my business.

  Ultimately I learned that my family can get through anything. Watching the show, I am always happy to see how united we are. My kids have taken beatings on this show, and they’ve gotten stronger too. They’ve learned that the best revenge is for them to be successful in the face of someone who’s calling them losers.

>   Fame is a drug, and it’s addictive and dangerous. If you don’t have your feet firmly on the ground, you’re going to get destroyed. You’ll be sucked into your own hype, and you will lose your way, and possibly a lot more. That will never happen to me. If my husband saw any sign of that happening to me, he would tell me, and I would quit the show in a heartbeat.

  I’m very aware that I’m in the middle of my fifteen minutes. I know that if the show ended tomorrow, my Facebook friends would drop from half a million to nothing in a short amount of time. If I’m not in the public eye, people will stop caring about me pretty quickly. I know that with any fame, out of sight equals out of mind 99 percent of the time. People don’t actually love me. They love what I am every week on a TV show. And they’ll forget about me as fast as they loved the show when it started. I’m completely fine with this. This whole experience has been fun, and while it lasts, I’ll continue to enjoy it. And when it’s over, I’ll go back to my life with my grace and dignity intact.

  BEHIND THE SCENES

  If you ever see any of us walking around Franklin Lakes without a cameraman, don’t assume we’re not filming! The cameras can be hidden anywhere, and people don’t see them, so they rush up to tell us they love the show. What sucks is that we are filming and we can’t stop to talk to them or we lose the whole scene! We literally have to ignore people, which is something I hate to do. If you’ve ever come running up to me and I’ve just kept on walking, I’m not a bitch, I was just in the middle of a scene. I feel awful every time it happens, but there’s nothing else I can do . . .