Real Housewives of Dallas
Real Housewives of Dallas: Brandi and Bryan
In this week’s Real Housewives of Dallas Leeanne and Tiffany confronted Marie about spreading gossip, Mark took pictures of Cary, and Brandi and Bryan went on the worst date in the history of real housewives.
Travis was the son of an interior decorator, which in his eyes made him qualified in the areas of conceptual development and the management and execution of designing a 4-bedroom house in the suburbs. But the reality was he had horrendous taste. He placed a wire witch skiing on a checkerboard in the living room and a cat oil pastel on the wall. Two samurai fighters stood in the courtyard of their home, aptly named Gayle and Oprah for their inability to be far from each other and love of the color gray. “I really do love Travis,” explained Stephanie. “I appreciate the fact he bought me a $70,000 bracelet on our anniversary, but the only thing I’ve ever wanted (except for a lavender Versace dress and a home on a golf course) is for him to let me decorate a bedroom.” He wouldn’t let her have control of anything including landscaping and the decorative towels in the kitchen.
Although Brandi had once taught cheerleading and dance to high school students and hated it she had found some delight in teaching Marie’s 10-year old daughter Sophia. It was just nice to show a girl who wasn’t yet having sex how to simulate having sex. “You just hit this point 1, 2, 3 and 4, and then jump, hip, squat, up and 2,3, 4, and 5. Back again and twist and jump, pop your hip, arms across, and toe touch pose. You got that, right?” Sophia was too afraid to tell her that she been gnawing off the end of her fingertips moments before. “Why do you have that lady coming to our house to teach me to dance?” she asked her mother. “They already had dance tryouts in the spring. I play oboe in the band. Didn’t you tell her?” Marie covered her mouth with her finger. “Now you keep quiet until the camera crew leaves. Do you hear me?” Sophia nodded and scampered off.
Brandi had been enjoying her new friendship with Marie, a woman who wore flouncy tops and balls around her neck. She had also hoped to use her Jedi mind skills to obtain information on Leeanne since Marie had also known Leeanne for 25 years. They had both modeled skorts in the Penny Saver. But it didn’t take much to pry anything out of Marie. All you needed was a bottle of chardonnay and a promise to take a girls trip one day to Vegas. “Leeanne could probably benefit from therapy,” she said. BINGO.
Marie was already in the shitter with Leeanne. She told Rich in the luxury of their at-home gym beside the Stairmaster that Marie had been texting Tiffany for days trying to psychoanalyze her. “She said Leeanne always has to be the center of attention. Why does she always have to be the expert at everything?’ Rich coughed up a martini olive. “She said what? Wow. Yeah. That is
spot on totally out of left field.”
The next day Tiffany printed out the text messages so she and Leeanne could confront their old catalog friend for making such harsh assessments including:
“She talks shit about you to me. I’m sure she talks shit about me to you. She loved us. Thinks what she says about us to other people. Its just Tiffany is too busy to ever answer my calls. She says she can’t tickets to any of K-Aaron’s music gigs. And the tone of her voice just gets to me. Who does she think she is? She is spiritually/emotionally about 14 and we can’t do anything about that and it is not because she was raised by elephants in a carnival.”
FACE TO FACE
They drove to Marie’s house, got out of the car, and held hands beside the front of the car. They began to pray. “Dearest Lord, just be with us now as we confront our friend who wears metal headbands about why she feels like Leeanne has the mental and emotional capacity of a 9th grader.” Marie who was watching from the living room curtains thought momentarily about putting on the house alarm and having them arrested for trespassing. Maybe not, she thought. I will just let this play out as Lord Jesus intended. They rang the doorbell, sat on the living room couch, and folded their hands in their laps. “As you can tell through my texts I don’t engage in conversation,” said Tiffany. “I’m sorry, what?” asked Marie. “I know I may have read through every single text you wrote me and secretly punched the sky because I agreed with most of what you said, I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it, Marie.” But Marie had to explain to Leeanne that if she had not behaved like a lunatic they wouldn’t be in this place anyway. If you act like a fool it’s your fault. But Leeanne soon broke into a waterfall of tears. “I am so sick of that red headed woman 10 years younger than me being so mean to me. Do you know the cab driver was so scared of my torrential flood of tears that he didn’t charge me. I am sure Frank has a family that would have really appreciated the $4 tip I would have given him, but I couldn’t open my wallet because I was blind.” Where could they go from there? “I gotta get going,” said Tiffany. “I’ve got an interview to do in a closet.” They collected their things and returned home.
In related news the Steuber breast factory needed to update their website. The old photos of Cary’s body parts were taken before she gave birth to their daughter. Now the site needed to reflect the plastic surgery he had performed on her to make sure she continued to have the body of someone who did not grow a child in her uterus. Although they met with a stylist Mark resumed his work as head of clothing development by pulling various outfits she could model. “I can remember this fabric. This was made by Versace as part of their 2012 collection. They had it in a slack and boat neck blouse.” Cary noted he also had an uncanny ability to see a dress from across a room and know that it would perfectly drape her breasts and yoga limbs. “WAIT! Try this beaded gown before we leave or I will lose my mind.” She agreed because sometimes at night once he had gone to bed she would watch YouTube videos of Christian Bale in American Psycho and note to herself the remarkable similarities. She would turn over to make sure he was breathing and then turn back towards the wall and place her hands in a prayer position. She would remind herself there would be scalpels back at the office. Days later she would pose for photos in a high rise apartment. They would review the photos in their home over a glass of wine. Cary didn’t want any photos of her face included. She also wanted them photoshopped. Did people need to know that model in the website photos were of his wife before they had banged in their friend’s bathroom? Seemed a bit of a boundary issue.
Brandi had still not gotten over the way Bryan abandoned her the day her estranged grandfather came for a family barbeque. She just wanted his attention and it was something he wasn’t really interested in giving. He had too many travel trips to Kentucky and Tennessee and basically anywhere that ended in Hotel and was not in close proximity to the home where she was raising their daughters.
At dinner they had little to talk about as they sipped from martinis. Brandi was hopeful that summer they would spend more time together and that she would be able to express her needs more. Like, for example, I’d like for you to answer my calls and not yawn when we are seated at a table alone together. He looked at her with a blank look on his face. She told him she needed attention and he laughed at her. “Are you serious?” he asked. She began to weep and he walked away. He was a level 9 a-hole.
But she had the last word because she let the rest of the world now knew that he was a man that enjoyed chewing the nails off his pale toes and plucking hardened snot from his bulbous sunburned nose. You want to leave me for another woman? Fine. They all know you have red pubes too. Good luck with that, jerk.
K-Aaron gets a musical gig; Cary’s accused of blowing her way into Mark’s heart, and Brandi’s brother leaves for war.
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