The Andy Cohen Diaries

by Andy Cohen

I got picked up at five forty-five this morning to shoot the “Summer by Bravo” spot, for which I was in a vile mood, obviously because of my start time. There was a time not too long ago that I could dig into my well of enthusiasm to muster up the energy for dressing as a circus barker and smiling wide in front of a green screen, but I was so tired from the week and I felt like I’d hit my breaking point. Luckily, also there were Padma, Gail, Tom, Fredrik Eklund, James Lipton, and Bevy—so it was a low-drama, mellow crowd. Fredrik referred me to his real estate lawyer, who’s going to do the deal for my apartment. We shot a thing where Padma and I get our legs cut off and switched. I really don’t care for the circus one bit.

  Bruce came to Fallon with me; he wanted to be there for my first appearance on the NYC Tonight Show and it became something of a full-circle moment for us because Bruce more than anybody has been there for me from the very beginning of my wanting to be on air and then slowly getting on air. He (and Lynn and Liza) gave me notes on every TV interview I gave in the years leading up to WWHL getting picked up. His being there made it extra special and fun. The energy backstage was electric; it felt like it does backstage at SNL—people racing everywhere, costumes, music, crowds. Janice Huff walked by my dressing room and popped in to say hi. Hearing the Empress of NYC Weather™ tell me personally that it was gonna be gorgeous tomorrow but cool down Sunday and perhaps snow again Monday gave me chills (for more than one reason—this winter will not end). Questlove came in too and the three of us took pics together.

  I got briefed and nonetheless turned to Bruce and said, “What the hell am I gonna talk about?” When I was finally out there, Jimmy and I just vibed off each other and vamped. He spontaneously suggested at one point that I should go on Tinder, which was hilarious given that I just did a few days ago. He kept me onstage to panel and I couldn’t have been happier. His energy is infectious.

  I drove out to the Hamptons feeling on top of the world: about the week in Austin, my apartment, The Tonight Show, and Wacha. I listened to the Grateful Dead for two hours in the car, and everything felt exactly right.

  I got to the house—first time since November (the weekend I realized Wacha’s hip was bad and I was fat)—and it was in great shape. Headed to Albert Bianchini’s for some cocktails and when I got home watched Wacha chase his own shadow for ten minutes. He is officially dumb. How could I ever think he is smart? Literally he was chasing his shadow. It sure was cute, though.

  SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 2014—SAG HARBOR

  Today was a new best day ever for Wacha—he keeps topping himself. We woke up and went for a run together by the water, which was great for me because he forced me to go at a good pace and kept looking up at me smiling. Then we had an epic eight-hour hangout with Jimmy and Nancy during which Wacha and Gary Fallon ran and frolicked and then ran and frolicked some more. I ate a jumbo bag of Doritos, then Jimmy made ground beef tacos, then I ate more Doritos. And I drank several Fresquilas. We laughed and listened to music and talked and talked and talked. I wonder if I overstayed my welcome. Would they have kicked me out? It was awesome and I was asleep by eleven. Maybe it was one of my best days ever too.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 16, 2014—SAG HARBOR–NYC

  We had a lazy drive home from the beach. I Skyped with Mom and Dad and Mom says she shrunk another half inch. She thinks it is humiliating being this height and though she has nothing against little people she is very upset that she is becoming one. Her words.

  Lady Gaga’s manager came by to show me the “G.U.Y.” video and we shot my reaction to it for a YouTube video. The Housewives look great. I’m in two shots, so it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, but what do I know? I like being there for posterity.

  MONDAY, MARCH 17, 2014

  After the gym I hosted a panel for hundreds of NBCUniversal ad-sales people. I’d guzzled two bottles of water before going onstage, so the entire hour was a countdown to the bathroom. I thought I was going to pee in the chair. It was a nightmare. The rest of the day was mortgage contracts, the dog trainer, two shows, screening some stuff, and a couple conference calls. My office at WWHL is almost done.

  I am bored of Tinder.

  TUESDAY, MARCH 18, 2014

  Today is the fifth anniversary of Tasha’s death. I was going through old photos, sending them to mutual friends, looking at the blog I wrote the week she died, clips of her on YouTube, and got really down. I feel like she’s missed so much and I miss her so much every day. I can’t believe it’s been five years. It just doesn’t seem possible.

  Before the show I took Wacha to Bruce’s and of course his doorman gave me his blank stare. How is it that Surfin remembers everyone but every day for this man is like Groundhog Day?

  When we got home, Wacha started getting out on the wrong floor. The man in the elevator turned to me and said, “He’s dumb, but he sure is handsome.” Let it be said that I am the only one allowed to call my dog dumb.

  Sultan’s Pizza on Greenwich Avenue went out of business and I’m not crying over that one. They were mean and stupid. And Nikki—the chattiest lady on my block, who owns Tea and Sympathy and has the 411 on everything and everyone—and I were convinced that place was a front for something anyway.

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, 2014

  I had Wacha dry-cleaned while I was at the gym today and his fur is so soft and shiny. I brought him to Starbucks and the manager finally busted me for bringing the dog in. I’ve been waiting for someone to tell me it was illegal. I had a good run there for a couple months.

  My cab driver to CAA today was Bangladeshi and Adorable, which I believe makes him Bangladorable. I tweeted as much and then wondered whether it was racist in any way. I swear sometimes I do hold my breath after I tweet, wondering, “Is this the one that will get me fired?” I am almost tempted to just tweet something horribly racist or vile or anti-Comcast, just to see how quickly I can destroy my wonderful life. Is that normal? When I was a kid I would fantasize about opening the car door when we were on the highway. I guess it’s kind of similar to that. I can’t be alone here.

  I was pitched two shows today. One is with Mike Darnell and it’s based on people telling stories about sleeping with athletes and rock stars—called I Slept with a Celebrity. It’s an idea whose sleaziness absolutely does not preclude it from becoming a big hit. Worth pursuing if we can find a way to introduce a modicum of taste. We’ll develop it together, take it out to networks, and see what happens. No harm, no foul.

  I had dinner with Bruce (at Good) before the show and he came and stayed after.

  Miss Piggy was on. The puppeteer’s arm hurt and so there was a little drama with that, an issue I can’t say I’ve confronted before. Made two Tinder matches with people who are very age inappropriate.

  THURSDAY, MARCH 20, 2014

  Today was the first day of spring and it was actually finally kind of nice. Kind of.

  I met with my tax guy and was on Tinder swiping away while he talked to me about my finances. When will I stop acting like a seventeen-year-old? I am waiting.

  We have a week off WWHL coming up and I can’t decide where to go or what to do. John Mayer invited me to Montana and I also want to go to Miami, but I should also go to Sag Harbor and try to get some work done. As you get older, vacation time can be a little depressing for a single guy.

  Had dinner with Bruce and Liza at Catch. Hung Huynh is the chef and brought us out a lot of extra food and I gorged on lobster mac and cheese, which is as amazing as it sounds. Liza’s wedding isn’t until August but it’s ripe for plenty of conversation, which suits me just fine. A fan sent us a round of drinks and came over to tell us she absolutely did not want to speak to us or bother us, she just really wanted to send us a round of drinks, which was so nice. We told the waiter we were all set for drinks, but maybe he did bill our last round to the woman, who then came over and wanted a long discussion about what kind of drinks we had ordered. She kept saying, “It’s no big deal, I just want to know.…” It turned into a whole drawn-out thing, which seemed c
ontrary to her original goal.

  Enrique Iglesias was on the show and I don’t think he had a very good time.

  FRIDAY, MARCH 21, 2014—NYC–NEW ORLEANS

  Came to New Orleans at the crack of dawn for Dave Serwatka’s wedding, which I wouldn’t have missed for the world. After all, Dave and I have been through it together working at TRIO and then Bravo for years—big life stuff and late nights all over the country on the set of Top Chef. My room at Soniat House wasn’t ready when I arrived, so I wandered around the French Quarter, where a beautiful guy with huge blue eyes, bulges everywhere, and a southern accent came up to me and asked if I was me. He told me he was a cheerleader for Kentucky and was on his way to meet his gay dads at the gym. I stopped. Wait—what? I had a million questions and was intrigued (gay dads?), turned on (the eyes and the body), conflicted (I should be thinking about his dads, not him), and excited (See: the eyes and the body). There was no way I was letting this kid go without a plan to have tea after his gym—I needed some answers to my questions. (I love a backstory!)

  I went back to the hotel to press my cream suit, which Bryan advised I could wear to the wedding because it’s officially spring. (I am a season jumper and have worn white tuxedoes at the wrong time of year several times, including Oscar night a couple years ago, when Valentino told me I looked “very Côte d’Azur” and Graydon Carter said he confused me with a waiter. Oh, the shaaaaade, hunty.)

  Suit pressed, I met the kid for tea. He answered all my questions—we talked about cheering and his ex-boyfriend and his dad coming out and the dad’s boyfriend. And we took selfies. And what I really wanted to be doing, while legal, would certainly be frowned upon by his dads that are my age. And I had to get dressed for the wedding.

  The wedding was packed with people I love from TRIO and Bravo—from Magical Elves Dan and Jane to LZ and my beloved old assistant Thierry, who now lives in Australia. It was in a beautiful old church across from Soniat House and when it was over a band led us dancing around the block and right into a perfect reception, which was more like a choose-your-own-adventure party. There were two bands and a DJ, food by John Besh, a photobooth with props, a hashtag for Instagramming pictures (it’s #loridavelove—look it up!), and lots of booze. A guest insisted on going through every person with the last name Cohen that she knows in New York City to see if I knew them or am related and would not hear my plea that there are too many Cohens for this exercise to be worthwhile. Sometimes people hear what they want to hear. Around 10 p.m. someone slipped me half an Adderall and the night was perfect. Love, love, love.

  SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 2014—NEW ORLEANS–NYC

  I decided to go to Montana next weekend, then Miami. I think it’ll be a fun adventure.

  Landed back in NYC to a gorgeous day. I can feel spring. I took Wacha on a massive shopping trek around the West Village. Every store in the neighborhood has dog treats and I was trying to get him to show off by having him lie down for a treat and he failed every time. Had a great wander around Three Lives Bookstore on Tenth Street and couldn’t help but wonder how long until it gets driven out by a greedy landlord. The state of this city is really depressing. Fantastic independent neighborhood staples are closing one after the other. Do we need another Duane Reade??? Can the human beings of Manhattan suddenly not maintain their life systems without a freaking drugstore and ATM on their block?

  Dinner celebrating Aries birthdays of SJP, Amy Sedaris, and Bruce at Betony on Fifty-seventh Street—we were trying to get out of our box, so we went to Midtown. I was playing with my rings and lost one and it became a huge scene with flashlights involved. SJP, bless her, was determined to find it. At the last minute she found it under her scarf on her jacket. Weird. And phew.

  The Lady Gaga video for “G.U.Y.” was posted tonight and I got a flood of tweets from her Little Monsters. We posted our response video tonight too. Who knows.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 23, 2014

  Wacha and I had a rough day. He was nipping at me in bed last night, so I put him in his crate and this morning he was driving me completely nuts, barking at nothing, hyper, the whole nine yards. I actually think the dog trainer is making him crazy. My bed is like a dog-toy showroom. Oh, and he won’t shit. Meanwhile it is a tundra again outside and I’m really dizzy. Feeling defeated by it all.

  Also I had orientation in the private dog run Marc Jacobs had told me about last fall. There are many rules and I feel like one wrong move by me or the WachStar will get us kicked out. It was a little terrifying. And windy.

  Bruce had a birthday thing at Atlas Social Club (wanna see gay boys lose their shit? Bring DVF to a gay bar) and then dinner at Añejo. I was showing Anderson, Hamilton, and Michael how Tinder works and Barry took my phone and started swiping “yes” to a bunch of “nos”—one of whom looks like Diana Ross but is a man (which given my love for Ms. Ross you might consider a positive for me, but is in fact not)—which then matched me with them. I felt like I was watching a runaway train. He freaking owns Tinder, so he knew exactly what he was doing. Lovely! I guess I can block them. I might add that everyone else thought it was hilarious. I had to leave early to go to the show.

  The Gaga video got me a lot of respect from the kids at WWHL. They think it is a super-big deal. So now I know for sure.

  MONDAY, MARCH 24, 2014

  Of course I woke up to a Tinder message from Male Diana Ross. Thank you, Barry Diller. I don’t want to block the guy and offend him but I also don’t want to engage. So I decided just to leave it hanging. Meanwhile someone I had been talking to blocked me, so who the hell do I think I am?

  The day was cold and I’m still in a foul mood. I wasn’t the only one. Walking Wacha this morning, I turned the corner from Horatio onto Greenwich and an old lady looked me up and down and snarled, “Oh, give me a break.” She just kept going. I didn’t want to let her off the hook, though. I yelled at her as she crossed the street, “Give you a break about what? What’s your problem?” She never looked back.

  Sean was eliminated from DWTS. They kept Billy Dee Williams, who can barely walk, and got rid of him. I’m outraged! I want to start tweeting people to boycott the show, but NeNe is on it, so I won’t.

  I had two pitch meetings about new shows, during which Brandi called to ask if I would come buy a pie from her for a Celebrity Apprentice challenge. Thankfully, she and Kenya are on the same team. Otherwise I would’ve had to go to two different pie stores.

  The show was Uma and Dominic Monaghan; Gaga called in and explained her video eloquently: “In the story, where I am beginning as the Phoenix, rising from the ashes, I go to the Hearst Castle in order to be brought back to life. As the people from the planet Venus dunk me into the Neptune pool, I am snapped back into reality by reality television. We wanted you to play Zeus or God in the sky because I feel as though reality TV and reality media really runs our lives. It’s really an image of how I think pop culture is today.” Smart …

  After all the Zeus talk and my posting a throwback paparazzi pic of Uma and me on the beach in St. Tropez, I got a text from Mom saying, “Reunion was really good. They r giving it to Lisa! Ur show was good. Like Uma. Gaga good. Aftershow short. Lay off urself for a while. Getting too self-centered:). Love mom.”

  I spent most of the two hours of my post-show massage pondering how a talk-show host can not become a totally self-obsessed monster, and whether I had gone to the dark side already. People, fans of the show, keep sending in paintings of me and I asked Deirdre to put them up in the control room because I didn’t know what to do with them myself. Suddenly I wondered if that was megalomaniacal of me. Is everyone laughing behind my back? While I in the meantime am a tornado of self-promotion, Instagramming endlessly, blathering on Twitter, windbagging on television, and publishing a diary(!) about essentially nothing. Is it too late for me? Can I go bartend on an island and find myself, or am I past the point of no return? The massage was not relaxing.

  TUESDAY, MARCH 25, 2014

  Wacha took three shits on his mor
ning walk. Consecutively. I marveled.

  After the gym I ran over to Union Square in my sweats to support Kenya and Brandi at the Celebrity Apprentice challenge. I didn’t give any thought to the number of cameras and press that would be there, so showing up in gym clothes might have been dumb. (Or maybe, just maybe, I was keeping it real because I am not a monster.) Leeza Gibbons gave me a pie. Vivica A. Fox rang me up. Apparently Kate Gosselin was there but I didn’t recognize her, I guess, which is a good thing because I have talked a lot of shit on Twitter about what an awful person she is. Also I made a mean joke on camera about Brandi not being able to add and I feel bad.

  The dog trainer came and told me Wacha is mouthy and easily aroused. I wanted to say, “Stop talking about me and tell me about my dog!” (I’m here all week, folks.…)

  We taped a show with the Long Island Medium and she did a spontaneous reading on Marc, our Deadhead cameraman, that blew his and everyone’s minds. I asked for a few minutes with her afterwards to see if Natasha would come through; she didn’t, so it was a lot of fishing.

  Bethenny and Ramona were on and Ramona texted me earlier in the day to confirm that I would not be asking about her divorce from Mario. I confirmed with her that I would be asking about her divorce from Mario. So we went back and forth on that a few times. And on the show of course I asked. The bartender was a zookeeper from San Diego. There was something hot about him.

  I ate the Celebrity Apprentice chicken pie when I got home at one. It was gross.

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26, 2014—NYC–ATLANTA

  Big article in the Times today about how all the bookstores in NYC are basically closed because of rents. So I was right to be worried the other day. Theresa Caputo’s manager called Deirdre and said she feels terrible that she didn’t give me a good reading and wants to do it over, a polite offer that I refused. Tash was either going to come through or not. Flew to Atlanta and went straight to a production meeting for the reunion tomorrow. There was last-minute drama involving whether Mama Joyce would come, but she’s in and all else seems fine. (Which of course means we should be very worried.) Had dinner at Optimist with Lindsay Denman, who I see once a year when I come to Atlanta for a reunion, and forced him to take me to Swinging Richards, which is an amazing all-dude strip joint. Why is there no Swinging Richards in New York City? No bookstores and no strip joints, but plenty of Chipotles and Bank of Americas. It’s not the city I moved to twenty-four years ago.