by Andy Cohen
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 26, 2014
Surfin’s off on Fridays, so Big Mike is on the door today and he’s just about the biggest Yankees fan there is; all day it’s been a flurry of Jeter talk in the lobby. Everybody’s walking around with an extra bounce in their step. I saw Gone Girl with John Hill at the opening of the New York Film Festival and forgot I would be photographed. I looked unshaven and bloated and butterscotch teethed. We loved the movie. Afterwards we ate outside at Café Fiorello on Broadway. You could feel dust particles in the air. Or maybe I was a little high. I won’t rant about how depressing the Upper West Side has become, because it’s just a boring topic, but it’s all chain stores. And the West Village is all for rent. What’s the end game here? I got home and John and I read the Times review of the movie and realized Manohla Dargis was right about it being too tilted toward Affleck’s character’s POV. In the book you didn’t find out she was a psycho until halfway through or more.
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 27, 2014
Gorgeous day. Indian summer. Howard Stern is doing a tribute to Eric the Actor all weekend—they’re playing every call he ever made to the show. I listened to about four hours, then I got a headache. After a hard workout with the Ninj, I met Ralph Fiennes for coffee and we sat outside and analyzed people on the street. I couldn’t fathom how he could possibly be attracted to this tits-y, whore-y girl who walked by, then a tits-y, whore-y guy walked by and I understood. Then I went, date-less, to John Shea’s wedding. It was the first non–TV wedding I officiated, and I didn’t even think in advance of the possibility of bringing someone. Walking in alone felt really funny, kind of Miranda-like, for the first ninety minutes, until I married them. How amazing to officiate the wedding of a friend that I’ve known for twenty-five years! The ceremony was lovely and emo—the guests thought they were just going to a party for the wedding but were surprised with an actual wedding. I met John in LA at the pool at Sofitel in the early nineties, both of us there on business. He gave me tickets to the MTV Movie Awards that night and I brought Nancy Burns. We became friends, and one summer he had a share in the Sag Harbor house (those were the days, sharing my little house with others) and he and I were going to bed in those little nun’s beds downstairs, and after the lights were out it sounded like he was wheezing a little. I said, “Wanna hit of my asthma inhaler?” and he made me repeat the question a couple of times. He thought I was saying, “Wanna eat my ass, maybe later?” We died.
After the wedding I met John Mayer at the Carlyle where he was with BJ Novak, who informed me he’s doing my show on Wednesday, and I felt dumb not knowing. John played me two super emo, super good demos from his new album. At around one-thirty I stumbled out of the Carlyle elevator right into Rita Wilson. I hitched a ride with her and then her driver took me the rest of the way home. We talked Housewives and how much jail time Teresa and Joe will get. I am supposed to interview them next Friday, the day after their sentencing; I’m trying to think of the tone for that one.
SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 28, 2014
Wacha seems depressed. He was no fun on two visits to the dog park today. I asked Ryan at WWHL to describe his personality, and he said “aloof.” Indeed, a week after I got him Liza said he was like Hugh Grant. The Cardinals clinched the National League Central Division so they’re play-off bound again. Bruce was at George Clooney’s wedding yesterday and took his shirt off—it’s his thing at weddings—and TMZ called him the drunk guy without a shirt. It was Jeter’s last game ever today, at Fenway. The sold-out crowd of Yankees haters all gave him a 112-second ovation. I cried again. The live show was Jacqueline and Rita Wilson. (We made a barter deal that she could come on if she gave me the ride. I am completely kidding; she had already been booked, we love her.) I told Jacq that I don’t hate her. She said another Housewife told her I did. I told her to just base it on how I’ve treated her but then I realized I let her go last season, so why wouldn’t she think that? I don’t, though! I love everybody! Okay, I don’t love everybody, but I don’t hate Jacqueline.
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2014
In the hot haze of August I agreed to do two panels this week and the first one was this morning, something Lincoln Center put on for Advertising Week. I was interviewed by a New York Times reporter about … what? Branding, I guess. Marketing. The Future. It was sparsely attended, so I felt like a loser up there, and even more like a loser for saying yes in the first place, but I was home by eleven. Oh, we were waiting to go on and Daryn (I enjoy making my assistant join me at dubious events) told me she’s been dating a girl named Evan. So it’s two girls with boys’ names—Daryn and Evan—dating each other. I had nothing to do until my show, other than figure out a way to avoid doing cardio at the gym. I wandered around the neighborhood for an hour with Wacha, who went into almost every store. He was in a better mood, and no wonder: he got treats at Gant, Marc Jacobs, and Steve Madden, then slept on my foot for an hour while I dealt with the Bethenny story, which is gonna break in Us Weekly on Wednesday. Carole texted and LuAnn wants to talk to me before the show tonight. The natives are getting restless. I was walking by Nourish on Greenwich Avenue and a tall ginger on a bench winked at me. We got to chatting as Wacha pissed on the flowerpot next to him. I asked him what he does for a living and we decided to play twenty questions about his profession. After twenty-five questions I was still circling around it—turns out he’s a piano teacher and opera singer. He said his name was Tim but I thought he said Kim, and he said his mom used to date a guy named Kim but he wound up being gay. Which is now the second story of the day about girls’ and boys’ names predefining them as homosexuals! Got home and hung with Surfin and Big Mike in front of the building and talked about Jeter’s last game. The window people had a little transistor and were speaking Spanish outside the window when I got upstairs at sunset. I felt like I was in West Side Story. Wacha felt like he was in The Amityville Horror. Got a text from Cher whilst rehearsing and just knowing she thought of me put a smile on my face. She’s scared about Ebola.
Jeff Garlin and the Countess were on the show, an odd combo that worked. She wants to talk about her future on the show but we were both preoccupied, so that call is coming tomorrow. Wacha almost ate the squeaky part out of his toy and choked and died on the after show. I realized on the massage table that I am officially lonely and have felt this way since John Shea’s wedding. It’s only when the noise stops that I even pause to think about it. Maybe that’s why I keep it so noisy.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 1, 2014
The Bethenny news was everywhere when I woke up and I had texts from Housewives wanting to know what was up. Rosie O’Donnell was supposed to be on the live show with Melissa Etheridge but had to cancel, which is bad enough but made worse by the fact that CBS Sunday Morning is coming to shoot me tonight for the segment that will air when my book comes out. Erin Moriarty is doing the piece and Jay Kernis is producing, which is crazy full circle considering I was their intern twenty-five years ago at CBS. Erin is bartending, so I don’t want someone shitty with Melissa. I lost another pound with the Ninj today. Cristiano Ronaldo’s body double was at the gym and he is a beauty. I stared at his ass while doing plank leg raises and it was the best diversion ever. Ninj says I need a diversion; he likes when I have to take a business call but keep working out. We booked Gretchen Mol. Did my main interview with Erin for Sunday Morning at Morandi, and I think I was producing the piece in the back of my mind the whole time and thinking we didn’t have enough stuff, that I wasn’t being smart and funny or whatever. Erin thinks it’s groundbreaking that I talk about being gay so much in the book, but maybe that’s because she knew me when I was “straight”? We were supposed to tape Caroline Manzo today for Sunday’s show but realized Teresa’s sentencing is tomorrow and it would be weird for it to air on Sunday without Caroline’s reaction to it, so we postponed that until tomorrow afternoon. Get this: Page Six ran a piece headlined “Andy Cohen Throws ‘Housewives’-Sized Hissy Fit,” saying that the “flamboyant” host—which means “
queen”—showed up ninety minutes late (what?) to the Advertising Week panel on Monday and stormed out after a question about Aviva Drescher. Then TMZ texted me (does TMZ just have everybody’s number?) asking for a comment. I didn’t respond.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 2, 2014
Holy shit—Teresa’s going to jail. We should’ve had a crew as I sat with her sworn enemies, the Manzos, waiting for the verdict before taping WWHL. We expected Joe to get time, and he got three and a half years, but Teresa getting fifteen months, and being sentenced first, was a surprise and seemingly due to omissions in the paperwork. We were all stunned and sad for her.
I brought Dr. Kyle from the Hamptons to see Rita Wilson at the Café Carlyle. Ran into Brian Williams with Allison and Ricky, and the anchor started giving me shit about my “creation,” Teresa, and I said I feel clean, but she is a representative of your home state, New Jersey. I told him he should be jealous because I was doing a hard-hitting interview with her tomorrow. Kyle was a few drinks in when he arrived to our date. I realized that he was nervous—maybe because we were being joined by Mark and Kelly? It doesn’t cross my mind that someone would ever be nervous to be out with me, but could I be misjudging the situation? Rita was great—her voice is lovely, very southern Cali. She had a thing upstairs after—Christine Baranski and Jann Wenner were there. Then we went to Kelly’s for her birthday. Anderson and Ben came. Anderson told us he doesn’t think Ebola will make it to the United States, but he thinks there will start to be ISIS-copycatting beheadings here. So that’s a mixed bag of news. Naomi Campbell left a message after midnight. What’s that about?
FRIDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2014
Tonight is Kol Nidre, the night of atonement, and I spent the day trying to get some out of Teresa and Joe. I spoke to Dina, who was in a state of shock about the sentencing. She can’t believe Teresa is doing this interview or that we’re still doing the reunion Sunday. I called Naomi back. She had a message for me to give to Lisa Vanderpump and also told me to please tell Teresa she was praying for her.
The interview was very somber. Teresa seemed numb. Joe has zero remorse: He doesn’t think he did anything wrong, he just thinks he got caught. They told Gia but not the other kids, even though the other kids are in school. Teresa’s crisis manager was running in and out telling Joe to shut up and listen to the questions and not offer anything more. The crisis manager has also worked with Lindsay Lohan, Jill Zarin, and The Situation—all of whom still seem to be in varying levels of crisis, so … I was asking Teresa how she’s going to feel in an orange jumpsuit because she likes the finer things. She said, “I don’t even know if it will be orange,” and I asked, “Well, how do you look in orange?”—the whole thing came off really mean, like I was kicking her when she’s down. Teresa and I have a long history of joking with each other, but I actually felt bad. We won’t use it. Went straight to dinner with Amanda and I gorged, knowing we had to fast tomorrow, then headed to temple. No cute guys at the gay temple this year, and that’s okay because I was so preoccupied and still in shock from the sentencing and the interview. I’ve never known anyone who went to jail. I couldn’t help wondering if this was the last time I would see her in the Clubhouse.
It was the Cardinals’ first play-off game against the Dodgers, and I might’ve been a little preoccupied with that too. We won. I went home and watched The Grand Budapest Hotel—I loved it. Ralph was perfect.
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2014
Fasting. Richard Johnston wrote a bitchy item saying I was cheering so much for Rita Wilson I should’ve just been up her ass. So I guess he has it in for me because that’s what you call an opinion piece from someone who has a bad one. I forgot to tell Teresa that Naomi is praying for her. I wonder if I will remember tomorrow. Broke fast at the Levys’ again; ate a tremendous amount but took it slow and steady.
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2014
Draining day at that RHONJ reunion, which we shot at some random place in the West Forties, for reasons unknown. When I saw Teresa, she said this would be her last reunion so she was going out with a bang, and she pointed to her shiny gold dress. I loved that she was in full Jersey drag. With her sentencing hanging in the air, it was a low-key reunion for sure. SJP came at a boring time and sat in the truck for about forty-five minutes. At the end of the day I turned to Teresa on camera and said remind me of what you said to me backstage about your dress. “That I didn’t like my hair up so I put it down?” No. “That I was wearing gold?” No. Finally she said that it would be her last reunion. I wanted to hear her say it, I admit it, and we got choked up walking her through her years on the show. We had a weepy goodbye hug right after the show and she left.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2014
After weeks of avoiding walking under the ladder that’s perched over the sidewalk on Hudson between Perry and Eleventh, I did it today. Kolten Wong hit a big home run tonight. The Teresa interview aired in prime time, but I was at the Friends In Deed event. Hickey was being honored, and the two of us gathered two tables but then he couldn’t come because he’s shooting in Australia. So I felt responsible for the two tables of people I’d gathered and was codependent the whole time. Mike Nichols spoke, which was amazing. In the midst of it all, my Joe and Teresa interview was airing. I built a barricade of napkins around my iPhone and was scrolling through Twitter, which John Hill correctly said was the rudest thing ever given that it was my event. I was trending on Twitter, though! Should there be some kind of etiquette loophole that if you’re trending, you can look even if it’s your charity event? In retrospect, absolutely not. Ron and Iva Rifkin, Matthew, Victor Garber and Rainer, Kevin Kline and Phoebe, Ralph, John Slattery and Talia Balsam, Scotty Wittman, Jeff, Mark Consuelos and Albert Bianchini, Marc Shaiman and Lou were all there. After, we all went to Anfora and then with Bryan and Matthew to watch the Cardinals at Corner Bistro. The burgers were magnificent and the Cardinals won.
TUESDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2014
Interesting to see what gets under your skin and what doesn’t. Today the Daily News had an item on the gossip page saying I was partying at Atlas Social Club on Yom Kippur, which is a total lie based on a Facebook “friend” who I’ve never actually met tagging me as being there. I never care enough about this stuff to have Bravo PR call and complain, but I was so pissed because that is the holiest night of the year on the Jewish calendar and the single solitary only night of the year that I stay home after temple. Bravo let them know I went home to watch the end of the Cardinals game and then watched The Grand Budapest Hotel, and told them to call Benjamin to ask him if I was at the club. They said sorry, their sources have me there and that Ben is my friend and would cover for me. They doubled down, told Jen at Bravo that either she was lying to them or I was lying to her. I was going out of my mind about it all day. I had a fitting at Gucci, and maybe my mood is the reason I picked out a made-to-measure puke-greenish poo-colored suit. Went to Gordon’s and looked at bathroom fixtures for the new apartment, which I have no set plan to begin work on but apparently need bathroom fixtures for. I think I have opinions about everything but bathroom fixtures.
I did a Q and A at the Jewish Community Center on the Upper West Side with a rabbi, and I guess they don’t read the Daily News because no one brought up my alleged sin. The show was Below Deck people. Wacha shit inside, so maybe he is depressed again? After the show I had a Tinder date for which I had low expectations but that turned out to be nice. A Sicilian from Long Island. Big nose. His dad is a French lit professor. He loves The Comeback, which of course tells me everything I need to know about him. He wants to make me pasta. I felt very Moonstruck. The Cardinals beat the Dodgers and are moving on to the next round.
WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2014
Wacha jumped up during the Tarzan yell with Carol Burnett. Hilarious. Totally spontaneous, and best of all, Carol was laughing from her gut and couldn’t stop after. She was still giggling at the step and repeat. She was holding her chin after she did it, so I wondered if he nipped her, but she wasn’t bleeding.
Can you imagine? We played a game of All My Children trivia and Susan Lucci surprised her as the MC. Also hilarious.
MediaPost ran an article saying my Teresa interview was as good as any network news division could do. It made me think we should be in the business of scandal interviews, air them in prime time—the one-on-one is a great extension of what we’re already doing. Then again, what’s MediaPost? I never heard of it before today. Went to the Top Five (new Chris Rock movie) screening with Jackie. It bugged me for the first half, then I kind of got it and enjoyed it. Larry David was sitting in front of us. Some rapper was next to me and had no idea who I was but wanted my card. I said I didn’t have one, which is the truth. Wacha shit inside again. Does he not like it when I leave him in the apartment—is he telling me he wants to be in the crate? If he does it again tomorrow I will leave him in the crate. The Italian dude is cooking me pasta next Friday night.
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2014
It’s decided—Wacha wants to be in the crate. He shit in the apartment again. Ran into Sean Avery on my way home from the gym sitting outside eating the most overbuttered pancakes and bacon—I don’t know how he has the body he has eating like that. Then he said he’d just worked out for two hours. So that answers that. He was riding me like a horse about my workout outfit: blue sweat shorts, Cardinals sweat shirt, blue socks. He said I should be in all black Nike. John Hill and I went to Matthew’s opening of It’s Only a Play, which was really funny. Stockard Channing was unbelievable. That face! There were a few seventy-five-year-old/twenty-two-year-old duos who I couldn’t stop staring at for the entire production. The arrangement begs so many questions (is it financial or a daddy complex, is the biggest one), which John and I discussed endlessly. We also were starstruck by Angela Lansbury—seeing Jessica Fletcher in the theater district is like seeing a mirage. We were turned away at Bar Centrale after—pretty sure that lady who runs it don’t like me one bit—so we went to Joe Allen for dinner; we both had eggs and salmon.