I would say he’s a nine. I was with him for 13 years. I wouldn’t stay if it wasn’t, like, a total package. … He, at this point, [however] … I care about him as the father of my children … [but] even if we’re in the same room, he makes my skin crawl.
OK, taking the whole cheating thing out of this equation, because Eddie and LeAnn both are disgusting human beings in their own very special ways for doing what they did, and going about it in the way that … well, they did, there’s still something of importance that we need to address, OK?
We need to address just how … how … I don’t know how else to say this other than “anti-feminist” … it is that Brandi Glanville and LeAnn Rimes could be so pathetic to talk about what a sex god Eddie Cibrian is, in spite of everything that’s happened. I can’t even take it. It seriously puts a lump in my throat, and it’s not welled-up emotion that’s in there, guys—it’s f-cking bile. It’s the shit that gives me heartburn, and before any of you go ahead and say, “Well, Sarah, that doesn’t seem to be all that healthy, getting acid indigestion from three people who have no bearing on your life whatsoever,” I’m going to address that part right now: see, I have to share a f-cking planet with all of you people, and I’m sorry, but I have certain expectations. Like not being pathetic wretches who publicly battle for the same flaccid, overworked penis, and then worship said penis for years to come, even when one of those wretches “loses.” Right about now, Eddie Cibrian probably thinks he’s just God’s gift to trashy women the world over, and I’m sorry, but that bothers me in a big way.
Also, can I secretly hope that LeAnn Rimes looks at these photos (whether on this website or another) of Eddie and Brandi and it makes her nuts? Is that one of those horrible-person things to do? Because I’m going to do it anyway. These three people, guys. I don’t even know anymore.