by Andy Cohen
We had lunch at Hedley’s and took long naps. Watched the endless red carpet and awards at Bruce’s with Jason, Lauren, Hamilton, Mark, Benjamin, Albert, and Kyle.
You walk into the Vanity Fair party (obviously I did not stay on my high horse—I wasn’t going to stand on ceremony when every one of my friends was going) and see every beautiful superstar in the world dressed perfectly and it smells clean and fresh, which is something I don’t say about a lot of parties. Then there are lots of hellos to people you really don’t know but have hosted on the show, like Anna Kendrick and Jenna Dewan-Tatum, or meeting people you tweeted with once or maybe think you have met but never have, like LL Cool J and Mindy Kaling. I chatted with Tyler Perry, who has the same issue as me: forgetting people’s names; gawked at Tim Tebow and Channing Tatum (separately); kissed Gaga (nice, engaged, and baby-voiced once again), who said the video will be done in a couple weeks; and reconnected with people like Neil Patrick Harris and Elisabeth Moss. Bruce and I saw Bette and told her she stole the show and was trending all over Twitter all night. (I forget how small she is.) Someone cut a fart while I was in a group of famous people and I am fairly certain I know exactly who it was, because she and I went to the photo booth and the smell came with us. I ran into the actor I’d gone on the sweet date with last month and we kind of avoided each other for much of the night (schmoozing and people watching are not conducive to reigniting a possible love connection), but near the end of the party we chatted for ten good minutes. It was light and flirty. I sent a text on the way out saying how great it was to see him.
Hopped a ride with Kelly, Mark, and Benjamin to Madonna’s party, which was an absolute blast, lots of famous people letting loose and dancing. I danced all night and said hi to Travolta, Leo DiCaprio, and Jamie Foxx. McCartney and Miley Cyrus and Mick Jagger were there—none of whom I really know. I kissed Madonna. I can’t remember much more than that. I went to bed at four forty-five just after realizing the actor never returned the text.
MONDAY, MARCH 3, 2014—LOS ANGELES–NYC
The weather was fine everywhere, so that was forty-eight hours of wasted worrying. Luckily, Bruce and I got a “ride” home privately and Jane Fonda and Fran Lebowitz were also on board. Jane Fonda is the coolest—she was upset because a friend of hers was high on something dancing with Travolta all night, and she wound up bailing the party early because her foot hurt. She was pissed because she missed a great time, an emotion to which I can relate. She’s seventy-six and talking like me, which made me love her even more, and then wonder if I am still going to be talking like a teenager when I am seventy-six. I sort of hope so. I don’t get the sense that Fran Lebowitz likes me too much. When we landed I got a return text (eighteen hours later) from the actor, saying, “Great seeing you too! Have a good trip!” So that’s over. I went straight from Teterboro to a promo shoot for NBCUniversal’s upfront (happening in May), where I was made to dance and jump—that seems to be what they want you to do at these things, dance and jump, over and over. I didn’t particularly feel like dancing or jumping after the night I’d had, but I excelled at both. Went straight to the show from the calisthenics and it was a blur but I got through it. I was asleep before I hit the pillow.
TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2014
Lord knows what kinds of chemicals I sweat out at the gym. Shot the Blood, Sweat & Heels reunion most of the day. It was more entertaining than I thought it’d be.
Had a hilarious chat with Mark, who said Kelly had reminded him of a bunch of conversations he’d had Oscar night that he had totally forgotten, and then he in turn reminded me who we were dancing with and around at Madonna’s (apparently P!nk, Cameron Diaz, A-Rod), all of whom I’d totally forgotten. One might question the wisdom of not paying enough attention to my surroundings to be able to even drop the right names after the biggest party of the year.
Tonight we made a super DIY music video for the song I “recorded” promoting next week’s trip to SXSW, which sounds terrible, and I fear I am embarrassing myself beyond the pale this time. The backup dancers (I use the term “dancer” loosely) were from Hogs & Heifers and one offered herself up to me, but she seemed very high (pills?), so maybe she thought I was somebody else. I didn’t take her up on her offer, tempting as it was not. Kimmel announced his guests for next week and blissfully there’s no one that’s going to make us look like losers. He’s doing my show, which is great for us.
Wacha and I snuggled after my show; while I watched Downton Abbey he was chewing on his Kong to beat hell, so I thought. Turns out he ate a big chunk of my red cashmere blanket. So I’ll be seeing that coming out of his ass over the next couple days. It’s important to have things to look forward to.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5, 2014
Insane day—two Housewives conference calls, a pitch meeting about a potential show for me to produce at CAA’s new offices in the Chrysler Building (highlight: the bathrooms are gorgeous!). I also saw a $12 million two-bedroom apartment (I think it used to be Jennifer Aniston’s?) with Fredrik Eklund for the hell of it (highlight: great outdoor space) and spent an hour with the dog trainer, trying to teach Wacha how to chill out (highlight: he can kind of “shake”). To or from one of those meetings I wound up in a supercute cab I thought was a Mini Cooper but turned out to be a Ford. (Good for America!) My driver was so sweet, from North Africa. I was asking him about how he likes living in NYC and he started to give me the cheery version but it got deep fast, talking about how hard it is to make ends meet. He feels like he’s on a constant merry-go-round and he will never get ahead. I felt horrible. Gave him a ten-dollar guilt-tip.
Wacha made his TV debut tonight and I asked the audience to refrain from applause so we didn’t freak him out. I had given him some over-the-counter doggy downers but they didn’t seem to faze him one way or the other. He was on my lap for the last four minutes of the show and he was perfect. I felt pride. For my dog. I never re-watch the show but I watched the Wacha section twice when I got home. He couldn’t have been bothered to even glance at the TV. I should mention that I did not feel similar pride before the show when he shit some of that red blanket out, though it was oddly satisfying.
THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2014—NYC–AUSTIN
Wacha slept with me last night and it was bliss. Saw a little more of the blanket this morning before I went to the gym. Flew to Austin. I checked into the W to find not only an abundance of tequila, Fresca, and Swedish Fish waiting for me in my room, but two framed pictures (pulled off Instagram) of Wacha. Awesome celebrity perk! I was gobsmacked that someone took the time to do this. I had dinner with LZ and we gossiped and caught up for two straight hours. At the end we were trying to determine how many names we’d mentioned cumulatively. I said sixty; she thinks less. Feels exciting to be on the road with the show.
FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 2014—AUSTIN
I opened my shades this morning and I have a clear view of the massive complex where Kimmel is doing his show—with a huge banner that has his show’s logo and a map of Texas. So that’s what I’m gonna be looking at all week. I rethought the name count from last night and I think it’s closer to one hundred. I worked out with an Austin-based trainer whom I have booked for the whole week. He seems good, if a little too into Kesha’s “Timber.” I sweat my ass off.
I hosted a panel today about “Super Fandom in the Digital Age” with YouTube stars Tyler Oakley, Grace Helbig, and a content producer for BuzzFeed. I was literally so bored that I struggled to keep my eyes open, much less not yawn (I let three slip). I fake-laughed a lot. Then I shot a cold open on a cowboy’s back on Sixth Street and the cowboy face-planted—simultaneously hilarious and painful. Had dinner with my WWHL team, then went to meet Bryan and Billie at the opening party for Chef, where I saw a little of Gary Clark Jr. (amazing), then went to Maggie Mae’s, where I schmoozed around at a Bravo ad-sales party and posed for funny pics with a guy who was either passed out drunk or sleeping in the corner. I think people were more entertained by him than they were by my panel today. I wound
up meeting the posse of a trainer I’d met at the gym (gyms are the best place to hook right in with randoms in a foreign city) and flirted with a twenty-four-year-old yoga teacher all night who is straight but was very handsy, reaffirming my forever-belief that flirting with straight guys is just an epic waste of energy and resources, resulting in blue balls and frustration. We all wound up at Rain on 4th, where a lady who looked just like Barbra Streisand from The Main Event told me how disappointing it was to finally meet me in person because I didn’t give her the “hello” she felt she deserved while I was midway through ordering drinks for ten people.
SATURDAY, MARCH 8, 2014—AUSTIN
Feeling a little uneasy about tomorrow’s show with Jimmy Kimmel—it’s my normal nerves associated with a big straight comedian I’ve never met coming on the show (See: Will Ferrell and Steve Carell). I have changed “the creative” for his show twice since being down here and am still not sure it’s right. Feeling great about the rest of the week, though, and did lots of press today to get the word out. The set is gorgeous and Steadicam Steve is back for the second year to taunt us all with his beauty behind the roving camera. Oh, and we have a whopping 150 people in the audience, which feels like Madison Square Garden to me. Ian Somerhalder came and shot a cold open with me; the guy is so sweet and touchy-feely, and now that I think about it, fairly smoochy. We kissed maybe ten times. We love each other. And I watched him do his hair, which was a flurry of tornado-like motion on top of his head—like he was jerking off his head, basically. He knows what he’s doing, though. I shot a Friday Night Lights–themed cold open with Seth Meyers in the women’s locker room of the YWCA, which kind of went against the testosterone we were projecting dressed in our matching Coach Taylor outfits. We were so excited to be in Dillon Panther outfits that it didn’t particularly matter where we were. Had dinner at the Driscoll, which sucked, with Jason Blum, Bryan, and Billie. Then went to NBC’s party for Seth, where he and I discussed the fact that no one upon no one knows how to operate their cell phone cameras. Also several people passed gas when I was talking to them, and come to think of it the same thing happened last night. I don’t know if it’s all the Mexican food in Austin or people think it’s so crowded at these parties that they can get away with it. They can’t.
SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 2014—AUSTIN
We did two shows today. Our first (for air Wednesday) was with Seth Rogen and Dave Franco. It was a great one with probably a little too much pot talk. Kimmel was on the live show and we rejiggered a bunch of stuff during run-through and I went into it finally feeling like we’d gotten it right. I went to say hi before the show and he had a roomful of people with him. (I recently discovered that late-night hosts roll deep with big posses wherever they go. Yet I keep showing up alone. Maybe I need to drag Michael, Daryn, and Ryan with me everywhere, but I don’t think they’ll do it, which makes me like them even more.) Kimmel couldn’t have been more pleasant and I was glad he brought his wife, who is also from St. Louis. She and I did the normal St. Louis thing, which comes down to sniffing each other’s butts asking where you went to high school, etc. We had a local Austin dude warming up the audience and we forgot to warm him up, so the show began with our “huge” audience sitting there not clapping, which was highly embarrassing and almost resulted in a half hour of intense schvitzing with Jimmy, but I got my shit together. Got an email from Nancy Fallon during the show saying that she and Jimmy were watching, which made me feel like I was cheating on Jimmy with another Jimmy. I am a little codependent. The interview went really well and Kimmel was all compliments afterwards. I felt really good about it. He looked thin and told me about his crazy eating plan; I think he said there are some days where he doesn’t eat at all, or only eats one meal a day…? Whatever it was, it sounded painful but seems to be working.
Went to an Irish bar with Michael and Deirdre after the show.
MONDAY, MARCH 10, 2014—AUSTIN
I guess I got caught up in the “excitement” of the tech buzz around me and randomly joined Tinder. So I spent a good portion of the day swiping people’s faces away in a fluid stream of rejection. I said yes to a few, though. I feel like that date with the actor last month left me wanting more; Tinder is my ticket to meeting people I wouldn’t normally come across, like an architect who lives in Murray Hill, or a scientist from Williamsburg. (Welcome to my rich fantasyland.)
We had two shows again today and during run-through for the Shaq show I decided that the funniest thing would be (during “Plead the Fifth”) to mention how big his shoes are (size 23) and ask him straight up how big his dick is. Before the show I went into his dressing room and was totally intimidated by not just his size but his attitude, which immediately conveyed something to the effect of “Are you gonna fuck with me out there? You gonna ask me about old girlfriends?” I told him that in fact I would be celebrating him and not fucking with him. I asked if he’d done Stern because I am the gentler version. “I did and I OWNED HIM.” Fine, I told him, you will own me too. I walked out of there muttering into my mic to the control room that I couldn’t possibly ask him how big his dick is. I started the show thinking I was going to bag it but he turned incredibly playful once the cameras went up and I went for it. The question itself got a huge response from the audience and he took his shoe off and put it on his leg to give me a sense of what he was dealing with. Cousin Dave was in the front row, apoplectic. It was a moment. Shaq is one of my new favorite guests.
I was meeting and greeting people after the show and a blond woman approached me. She was shaking. “I need to say something to you,” she said with her voice trembling. “I am a very conservative woman. Do you understand? I am conservative. I want you to know that you have changed the way I think about a lot of things. I need you to know that. You changed the way I think.” I gave her the biggest hug. I was so happy. She couldn’t have said anything better to me.
I ate insane barbeque from Salt Lick—sausage, ribs, chicken, the whole thing.
TUESDAY, MARCH 11, 2014—AUSTIN
It was a beautiful day and I ate three tacos, a piece of pizza, and ice cream. I’m training every day (lots of “Timber”) but also taking advantage of Austin—that’s my philosophy and we’ll see what kind of a disaster it nets out to when I see the Ninj next week. Sonja performed a “Tex-burlesque” that was a minute and a half in rehearsal and like four minutes on live TV. It was endless and I didn’t know how to stop it. I didn’t want to offend her by walking in during the middle when I was the one who’d asked her to do it.
We had a wrap party in the front bar of Rain on 4th and a few hours in started to get sick of each other, so we sent Anthony and Chase back into the club to grab some cute people to liven up the joint. I spent a fair amount of time flirting with this really tall, muscular guy. I was on and off with him all night and near the end John Hill whispered in my ear, “Are you enjoying those heels?” at which point I looked down and realized this dude was wearing sky-high heels. Not even platform shoes, heels. He became a little less hot after that. (Just a hair.) We went to a smoky after-hours club and danced to early nineties music.
Made two matches on Tinder.
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 12, 2014—AUSTIN
We had the day off. It was fantastic. The gang from WWHL who stayed behind went to see the Mowgli’s, then had dinner at Paul Qui’s restaurant, then to a party where Aloe Blacc (“Wake Me Up”) sang and I once again walked into several farts. WTF is going on with the gas at SXSW?? John Hill and I went to see Jay Z and Kanye West—it was really powerful. I only knew 35 percent of the songs but it didn’t matter.
THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 2014—AUSTIN–NYC
Woke up to news that there was a bad car crash blocks from where we were last night. A drunk driver. People killed. The whole plane home I was thinking about our promoting drinking so much and I am going to start asking people to not drink and drive at the end of every episode. It’s the right thing to do after getting people wasted.
Had two interesting calls in t
he car home from the airport. The first was a pre-interview for Fallon, which I’m doing tomorrow. It wasn’t great. I don’t feel like I have a thing to talk about and I wasn’t particularly funny at all. I don’t know how that is going to go my way. I’m racking my brain trying to think of funny things. I flirted with a guy in high heels? I asked Shaq his dick size? The second call was from building management—not Mr. Liebowitz—saying the apartment upstairs was on the market and they’d begun showing it. I asked the price and then I told her I wanted it. We agreed that I’d see it in a few hours, and when I hung up I realized she really didn’t get that I was saying that I want it. I called her back and said I am buying the place and can close in thirty days and get a mortgage and all the rest. When I got home, I went upstairs to see it with her (I had to pretend I hadn’t already because I’d snuck in there when I did see it). It’s still a dump but I am buying the space, that’s it. Absurdly, there was an item in the Post today saying I was looking for $12 million apartments with Fredrik. So that was possibly the worst timing ever for a stupid item to appear, on the very day I make an offer for the apartment. I was about to get my jumbo massage tonight when the phone rang and it was the broker saying they’d accepted my offer. I am so excited. And yet I still have nothing to talk about on Fallon tomorrow.
FRIDAY, MARCH 14, 2014—NYC–SAG HARBOR
The Shaq episode aired last night and everybody’s talking about the dick question. (And by “everybody” I mean a bunch of shitty entertainment blogs.) As it turns out, I have heard from two people who claim to know that Shaq’s dick actually isn’t so big.