by Andy Cohen
Finally we did the Q and A and that was even more awkward. She’s simple and shy, and doesn’t give you much, and what she does give is pretty short answers. I would ask a couple questions and then we’d sit and listen to a song in front of an audience that was standing there watching us listen. I became obsessed with the dynamic between Brit and one of her handlers, an older woman who has welded herself to Brit’s hip, whispering in her ear at every opportunity. While the songs were playing she would come up to the stage and whisper something “important” to her. I think she’s there to help but it’s clear to my novice eyes that she is doing the opposite. I started thinking that maybe Brit wouldn’t be so good on WWHL. You really have to be sharp and on top of your game. After schlepping to LA for eighteen hours, I came to that conclusion.
I took a picture with Britney and I felt almost ashamed. Then I had dinner with Hickey and Jeffrey and Brad Goreski and Gary at Madeo. Mood improved.
FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2013—LOS ANGELES–NYC
Halfway through the morning ride to LAX it became clear to me that my driver was high on crystal meth. Literally. When we got to the airport he goes, “Are you sure you don’t want to come party with me?” He wasn’t talking about a cocktail. He’s a good driver and I’ve had him before, but he was definitely high. I didn’t tattle on him. He needs the job to support his meth habit!
On the plane it dawned on me that I had sent a bunch of nasty tweets about the Black Eyed Peas during the Super Bowl halftime show a couple years ago, but Will.i.am would never have seen that. Then I remembered that when Eve was on my show once, she said she heard that Britney didn’t record the tracks on “Scream and Shout.” Maybe he was pissed at that? Maybe he just thinks I’m a loser. Maybe he thinks nothing about me! We are all just stuck with our head up our own ass, that’s the net net here.
I read on the plane that Patti Smith has a song on the Hunger Games soundtrack, so now I know why she was at the movie. And I saw a picture of myself in front of Bergdorf’s with that plum Loro Piana scarf. I look like I am mid–gender transition. Not my best look.
When I got home Wacha burrowed his face in my legs. I think he’s really scared that I’m gonna leave him. And maybe he’s wondering if this is a part-time love affair or what. If I could tell him anything (that he would understand), it would be that he is not going anywhere and neither am I. He is home.
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2013—NYC–SAG HARBOR
I took Wacha to Ava’s birthday party and I might’ve enjoyed the pottery party as much as my goddaughter. I made Wacha a dog bowl with his name on it, then we drove out to the Hamptons for his first trip and what was essentially a tour of the East End’s best houses. We spent the afternoon at Marci Klein’s and he had a good explore on the beach. After lounging at my house, we went to Albert Bianchini’s and Mark and Kelly compared him favorably to Albert’s codependent dog, Rufus, which made me a proud daddy.
At the end of the day, I noticed that something was wrong with the way he was standing up. He seemed to be in pain.
SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2013—SAG HARBOR–NYC
Today Wacha visited Sandy Gallin’s and the Seinfelds’. I kept looking at him, saying, “You stepped in shit. You were in a kill shelter in West Virginia and now you’re at Jerry Seinfeld’s in the Hamptons.”
Sandy told me that I’m fat and that I need to lose weight because I’m on TV, and he’s right. And as much as I’ve been thinking it myself, hearing it from a friend who managed talent for as long as he did really hit home. He was being a friend and he should know. So I decided then and there, amid a sea of white furniture and dark wood floors, that I’m going to be sober for the month of January and I’m going to lose ten pounds. Besides discussing my emerging obesity, we all noticed that Wacha was having major trouble getting up and even walking. He was really tentative—this after playing in the yard with a bunch of other dogs. It was freaking me out.
On the drive back to the city, I took Wacha to the animal hospital in Riverhead. The vet says he thinks his hip is sprained. He popped a boner. Wacha, not the vet.
I got a message from Teresa saying congrats on my new deal. She said she wanted to wait until it was final to call me. I mean, did she know that I’ve been working on this deal for nine months? Was she aware? Then she said, “I think we should partner together. I’m going to make you millions. I’m going to make you richer than Ryan Seacrest.” Intriguing!
I went to Bruce’s and watched the AMAs, and once again his doorman acted like he’d never seen me before. I have been going over there for years and it’s always like the first time with this doorman. This guy could not pick me out of a lineup.
MONDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2013
I took Wacha to the vet, who said “Oh my God!” when she saw the X-ray. Apparently his hips are fucked up, I mean really fucked up. He’s gonna have to get surgery, she says. I have to take him to the animal hospital uptown. I feel so bad for the little guy. Surgery??
Ricky Van Veen and Allison Williams came over and we ordered in and basically had a four-way with my poor handi-capable dog.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 26–SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2013—NYC–ST. LOUIS
My annual Thanksgiving pilgrimage to St. Louis. At the airport my Dopp kit was inspected by the TSA agent but she failed to clock the big fat joint I’d mistakenly left in there that was staring her in the face. And I saw the winner of Battle of the Network Reality Stars going through security but I can’t remember his name. Maybe Joe Schmo? I wonder what was in his Dopp kit.
I’m shooting something on Sesame Street right after Thanksgiving, and when I got to my parents’ I had a call with the wardrobe guy about how not to get lost shooting w/ Elmo and the Muppets. (Don’t wear red seems to be the answer.) He was taking me through potential colors on the phone and my mom was in the background screaming, “YELLOW!!!” Wear YELLOW!” After a few minutes the guy said, “Do you want to wear yellow but don’t want to mention it for some reason?” I told him my mom was being nosy.
All weekend, all over St. Louis, I saw lesbians. You cannot throw a can of Budweiser without hitting a lesbian and they all drive Subaru Outbacks. Besides seeing lesbians, I didn’t do a hell of a lot. I basically ate like a champ and wandered aimlessly around town. Every time I brought up going to the Galleria, Em told me it was going to be a zoo and to avoid it at all costs. Well, I went twice and it was fine. She likes hype. I got my rings cleaned, which tells you how busy I am here. I ate some Provel cheese on a pizza. Oh my God, that stuff is so good. Actually it’s disgusting and so am I.
I went to a benefit called “Guns and Hoses” for families of fallen cops and firefighters during which cops and firefighters box each other. I went with Kari and met Jim Edmonds there, and they set us up ringside. It’s a huge event—thousands of people at the place where the St. Louis Blues play. I was looking through the program of cops and firefighters like it was a husband catalog. I was literally circling my picks, waiting for my fights. The announcer brought me into the ring to introduce me in front of those thousands of people and said, “Actually, we could really use you to kill some time between fights,” and just handed me a microphone. WTF. So I just wished everyone Happy Hanukkah, which I thought was hilarious, but may have been lost on the crowd. I took pictures with a lot of (lesbian) cops and firefighters but unfortunately didn’t meet my match. Afterwards we went to Jim Edmonds’s new bar. It was full of fuzz and firefighters—lots of beards—but none on my team. I’ve always loved going out the night before Thanksgiving.
I spent all Thanksgiving morning watching the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade while my dad hammered me with questions about specifics of the parade, such as “How much does it cost to put on this parade, Andy? How many people are there?” “HE DOESN’T KNOW THE STATS, LOU!” Mom chimed in. She had other things on her mind, primarily to RAGE at the mustaches and beards that Al and Matt were sporting for Movember. My dad loooves Savannah but any attempt to talk about her was interrupted with “Well, she’s NOT HAPP
Y sitting next to that HAIR!”
I sent a tweet—“@Andy: This Thanksgiving I am grateful that Spider-Man the Musical is finally closing!” And that upset tweeps because it means a lot of people are losing their jobs. Calm down, people. Jesus, you can’t say one word about anything these days without offending someone. (And that show was the worst!) I wanted to tweet more but no one has a sense of humor anymore and half of what I’d say was slamming the parade and the promotion and I don’t want to get fired from NBCUniversal. We also watched the dog show for the first time ever. I miss Wacha. When have I ever watched a dog show?
Em invited her neighbors to our family Thanksgiving and everyone was on their best behavior. We all realized we should always invite strangers. Nobody chewed each other’s face off.
I ate so much starch and fatty foods all weekend and have now reaffirmed my vow to go alcohol-free in January. I even texted Will and told him, which makes me accountable.
Now I can spend all of December eating and drinking!
WINTER
IN WHICH …
• I BOMB ON LETTERMAN,
• CAVORT IN BRAZIL,
• TRY TO NOT DRINK AND TO NOT BE FAT,
• OFFEND BARBARA WALTERS ON LIVE TV,
• AND SHOOT A LADY GAGA VIDEO.
SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2013—ST. LOUIS–NYC
The whole time I was away I was thinking about how much I missed Wacha and I couldn’t wait to be reunited with him. But after all the buildup, it was a quietly emo reunion. We had a long, dramatic hug but it wasn’t a jumping and freaking-out moment. Then later on I let him lick my face for what felt like half an hour. I took him out and he did something to piss me off and we had a fight. So that was a lot to come home to.
Liza Instagrammed a picture from that Madonna exhibit downtown, and now I’m hoping she didn’t buy Bruce and me that book of photos from the show for Christmas. It’s Madonna in the early eighties. I have one here for Bruce and one for Grac. I have a feeling we’re all going to be giving it to each other.
Cynthia Bailey and Sandra Bernhard were on tonight. Sandra caught me in a big yawn during the show. Is it normal for a talk-show host to yawn during his own show? My suit was too tight and it constricted my breathing. I am fatter than ever! One month more of drinking.
MONDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2013
Everything and nothing is going on today: Wacha’s hips are hurting him, I almost puked at the gym, and Mama Joyce has been trending on Twitter for eighteen hours.
I was emailing with Sandra Bernhard, encouraging her to reach out to David Letterman because she seems to be banned from his show again and so I told her to just email him or send him a note and say you miss him. So we’ll see how that works out. I want to see them together again, as a fan.
Took a cab to the Upper East Side to have Hanukkah with Grac and her kids. It was a half hour each way in the cab and fifty dollars when it was all said and done. So that’s insane and maybe de Blasio is right. Who the hell can afford this mess? Grac got me the Madonna book(!) and purple toilet paper. I never considered purple toilet paper a contender for a gift, but now that I have it, I’m wondering why we’re not all giving that to each other.
Lisa Whelchel and Kim Richards were on the show. All day on Twitter people were saying that Lisa hates gay people and is very Christian, so I decided to in turn be Christian and forgive her with open, celebratory arms. She looks great. Blair!
There was a drunk woman at the show who kept screaming at me, “Don’t you remember me?” And somehow she got past “security” (our PA Mike) and was getting her picture taken with me after the show. (I take pictures every night with folks who buy tickets in charity auctions. So far we’ve raised over $700,000!) She rather belligerently asked why I didn’t remember her from the Sex and the City movie premiere (I looked it up, that happened in 2008), when apparently she had told me that if I ever do a Housewives of Greenwich, CT she should be in it, so I said, “Oh yes!!! I totally remember you.” That shut her up for a half second. Then she reappeared because she didn’t like her picture (it’s the nutbags who always demand a retake) and I said—I thought under my breath—“Oh, the drunk lady wants another picture.” She slurred, “I’m not that drunk,” and I’m like, “OK.”
The poll question was: Who’s the top dog in Beverly Hills? And both Giggy and Rumpy Pumpy lost because Kim was there and campaigning for Kingsley, so I will be hearing from Lisa. (If Wacha lost such a contest I would never leave my apartment.) And in the meantime Patti Stanger is on Wednesday with Robin Quivers and Patti is saying that she has to sit next to me. (There are exactly five Bravo stars who have a thing about sitting next to me.) We told her no because Robin has never been on and we usually like someone with a very strong personality in the far seat so they don’t get lost. I’m sure we haven’t heard the end of this.
TUESDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2013
I had a sleepless night and woke up Wacha early and he was alternately like, “Why the fuck are you up?” and really gentle and huggy. We had quiet morning time. I’m extra in love with him knowing there’s something wrong with him and he may soon be wearing a cone, which is to me worse than having surgery.
I put toothpaste on a massive zit last night before bed (does that work or not?) and took Wacha out at 7 a.m. and ran right into Cameron Diaz, whose trailer is in front of my building. She is shooting Annie, and it seems Annie lives on my block in the new movie, because you just can’t walk anywhere without running into that crew. Anyway, I talked to Cameron for a minute, asked her an inappropriate question about Naomi Campbell which I immediately regretted, and went upstairs to realize I had a clump of toothpaste on my face the whole time. Lovely. At least Wacha looked cute, and she noticed.
It turns out if you wanna know the way to Sesame Street you just take the Fifty-ninth Street Bridge. Why is it kinda perfect that Sesame Street exists in Queens? Wait—is Sesame Street actually set in Queens? Am I just figuring this out? My gentle morning put me in a sweet headspace for my early call. They had written a cute sketch involving me teaching Elmo the word of the day, which was “popular.” There were also a bunch of Muppets that were takeoffs of reality characters. During breaks all the Muppets stayed in character and at one point I called one of the Real Houseplants of Atlanta a bitch as a joke and quickly learned that you don’t curse at the Muppets. I loved doing the scene with them. I felt upbeat and sincere. I never got the appeal of Elmo until I met him (him, right?) in person. He is very charming and cuddly and almost as cute as Wacha. Almost. It was so cheery doing something with dolls for kids. I asked when it airs and they said September 2014. Um. I hope I make it till then. Seriously. Jeez.
I had a Friends In Deed board meeting. We’re planning a photography auction in the spring and our dinner later in the year. I’m trying to dose Wacha with doggy dolls until his doctor’s appointment on Thursday because I’m now overly worried he’s in pain. Robin Quivers canceled and I think Patti took out a hit on her.
WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2013
Started the morning with Cameron Diaz again. This time Wacha raced right up the stairs of her trailer, and just as he got to the top, the door opened and out she came. At least I got to tell her that the toothpaste all over my face yesterday was to clear up a zit. She certainly did not seem to care or remember. Appropriately. But she hugged and kissed Wacha for a good five minutes. Meanwhile I don’t remember a time in my life when Annie was not being shot in the West Village.
Had a massive blowout with my driver about crossing Fourteenth Street to get to the West Side Highway on the way to the dentist. In his rant to me he called Bloomberg a “Jewish Nazi,” so that didn’t go over well and I let him know it. Then I stopped speaking to him and then he clearly felt bad and he gave me two hot stock tips to make up for it. Now I can retire.
At the dentist my hygienist told me she is positive that I should be a blond, which is insane.
I spent all day at 30 Rock, where it’s mayhem because of the tree lighting. As I was leaving I
said to a cop, “Who would want to come to this?” And he pointed to all these people and said, “Them. But if you ask me, they’re all retarded.” Can a cop say “retarded”?
I went to Bruce’s and had to reintroduce myself to that fucking doorman. “Who may I say is here?” he says.
Mariah Carey was performing at the tree lighting and I emailed Cindi Berger begging her to bring Mariah on WWHL. I got a reply immediately, saying “Great idea!” and now I think it’s going to happen, as our Christmas finale! Would that not be a great way to end the year? Am I not the luckiest person?
Patti Stanger was on my show. Somehow she started talking about how Jewish people start developing Jewish jaws and chins and I wondered if I had one and she said, “You don’t look Jewish,” and started describing Jewish features, like a big nose, and I stopped her before the Anti-Defamation League killed us all. Then on the after show a blind woman called and said she had a boyfriend and started to say that she “had a hard time—” and Patti interrupted her, saying, “Seeing him?”
So today I had an un-PC cab driver, cop, and guest. What kind of trifecta is that?
THURSDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2013
I dropped off shirts at the cleaners on Eighth between Horatio and Jane quite possibly for the last time. I’m done with them. This lovely old couple used to run it, they were there for years—in rain or shine—and now, somehow, they have disappeared. And every time I go in and ask about the old couple, the young people behind the counter suddenly can’t speak English and pretend they don’t know what I’m talking about. Are they tied up in the back? Are they dead? I’m trying to rally the neighborhood to look for them. Unfortunately, the alternative is that mean tailor on the corner of Jane. I am about to be a man without a cleaners.