Superficial

by Andy Cohen

  FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 20, 2015—LOS ANGELES

  It seems like I got the apartment! BuzzFeed did a list of “Hugh Grant’s Ten Crankiest Moments from WWHL,” which he forwarded to me, and I said fuck BuzzFeed, but the list was in fact pretty funny. Beverly Hills reunion day today. There was a lot of buzz leading up about Kim’s state of mind, but she seemed great. I assured Brandi I would be fair to her. Later I thought she was going to walk off when I compared her slap to a dog biting Lisa by mistake. (She told me to “fuck off.”) Kim and Kyle got very ugly, and that was a sad way to end the day.

  I went straight from the reunion to the CAA party at Kevin Huvane’s, where I then downloaded to Lisa Kudrow and Michael Patrick King about the theater I’d just witnessed. Anna Kendrick told me the backstory of her time on Lip Sync Battle. Gwen Stefani was a bombshell. JLo was in a high ponytail and really flawless. I came face to face with Naomi Campbell for the first time since I pissed her off and she went in right away: “I’m so mad at you! You blew me off so bad!” I said wait wait wait, and we worked it out. It wasn’t the reaming out I was kind of hoping for. Saw Aaron Rodgers who is big and kinda flirty in a straight way; Queen Latifah wanted me to say hi to Anderson, whom she loves. Chelsea Handler was on brand, falling-down drunk, and when I say that I mean she fell down into James Corden and me talking. Corden is a WWHL fan and really sweet, with big blue eyes. After a fun, glittery night, I was content knowing that I am leaving Sunday. Two nights of high-profile parties is enough for me. (Said me, never.)

  SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 21, 2015—LOS ANGELES

  Moved over to Casa Bruce/Bryan, where I devoured Doritos and perused the guest list for dinner as workmen scrambled to fix the house. We went to the Diller picnic and it was Joan Collins, Shirley MacLaine, Steve Martin, and Berry Gordy plus every studio head and power player. Had an interesting talk with Les Moonves about Brian Williams and late night and news in general. Gayle and I chatted about movies and Bruce said, “Oh, yeah, last year Andy was speculating about whether Oprah was in a bad mood at this lunch,” and I quickly said, “No, Bruce, that is not what we were talking about.” Then she walked away and I yelled at him.

  Took a two-hour nap, then watched some Lego Movie with Ava and got a massage from Nate, by which time the dinner started. Had a long visit with Nanci Ryder, who has ALS and can’t speak. She was writing everything down on a card. Her mind is still there. She told me you find out who your real friends are and you can eliminate others from your life, that she’s been watching a lot of news. She is inspiring. I thought she wanted me to get her ice for her coconut water but what she really wanted was some vodka, which we laughed about. Anna Wintour said the new Vogue offices downtown have a lot of space but there’s not a lot in the neighborhood. And you’re always looking down on the memorial. When she left, Nanci wrote down that she was terrified of AW. Amy Pascal was there and I said, “You got fucked,” and she said thanks but then I wondered if I said the wrong thing. The Obamas of LA were there and all over each other. Gwyneth Paltrow was really nice and for the first time I realized how beautiful she is. I don’t think she had any makeup on. Broke down the Housewives with Ryan Murphy, who is worried about NeNe’s role on the show. Ethan Hawke told great stories. Jason and Lauren picked out jewelry for the Oscars from Billie’s stash. Meryl and Don were there and also Robert Downey Jr., who is much more handsome in person.

  SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 22, 2015—LOS ANGELES—NYC

  Car picked me up at seven-fifteen and Bruce and Ava were already up watching CBS Sunday Morning and snuggling. Felt like I made the right move leaving even though I was sad to miss Jason and Ethan’s party. And Guy’s. Saw Bill Hader in the lounge and we gossiped about SNL 40. He said when you have been to SNL parties for so many years, you come to the point of “Oh, yeah, there’s Prince performing” and kind of blow it off. I get it. Jeff Probst was on my flight. He said he emailed Gary when I was on Stern, wondering if I was kind of ruining myself by naming all those names in my book and telling stories and I tried to explain the line between selling out and not. Spent the rest of the flight paranoid. Landed in NYC and watched the Oscars at Jimmy and Nancy’s—it was just the three of us—and there was a weird moment with Terrence Howard that somehow made us laugh so hard that I fell on the floor in hysterics. Literally.

  MONDAY, FEBRUARY 23, 2015

  Was walking out to go to the bank and saw the cutest dog coming into the building—we locked eyes and I realized it was mine! I was happy, until I had to go get certified checks in the tundra, sign the lease (the landlord prefers blue pens; people are weird), go to Grac’s quickly, buy a suit at Ralph Lauren, and come home and totally freak out about moving in a week. The Wasp texted and said, “I know it wasn’t a huge connection but I would like to hang out again” and I said I would too and that if I had it to do over again I would’ve had him stay at a hotel, which of course came out sounding horribly wrong over text. Why text this kind of conversation? Early show, then watched Downton, which was finally great.

  TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 2015

  Packing and purging. Purging and packing. Throwing out posters, old beauty products, unused spices. Had lunch with Sandra Bernhard to try to get her to do a radio show for my channel and came home to find a signed Sandra Bernhard poster as well as Wigstock posters, an Ab Fab poster, a Tom Hanks–signed poster from Philadelphia—what the fuck do I do with this stuff? Keep it.

  We had a live keg party to celebrate Dakota Fanning’s twenty-first birthday party on the show. Rinna’s publicist kept emailing saying not to put her in the “second chair” and we said we have to because we don’t know what Dakota’s personality is going to be and she’s young. After the show I did a keg stand and was horrible at it and got beer all over my tie.

  FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 27, 2015

  More packing. I went to the new apartment and love it. It’s like a tree house in the sky. I measured all over and realized I can fit almost every scrap of furniture I have right now. Dinner with Jackie at the Polo Bar. Ate like a pig, but no corned beef sandwich. Came home and Wacha was initially skittish about getting out of his crate, so I left him alone. Then he came out but was going back to it, which I didn’t realize, so I clicked his leash on to take him out and he freaked out and turned into a wild beast. While I tried to get the leash off he bit me on the arm, hard. I don’t know what’s happening to this dog or how to fix it; it’s like he’s changing personalities.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 1, 2015

  Snowing. Packing.

  Show was Kenya and the Fashion Queens. Came home and spent my last night in this version of my apartment with Wacha, watching the two-hour Downton Abbey finale, which was warm and wonderful. I was feeling really melancholy with the dog, snuggling and trying to desperately get him to emote, talk, feel me, feel the situation, and understand that our lives are changing together. He is a dog, though. I accept his limitations.

  MONDAY, MARCH 2, 2015

  Woke up early. Sherman came and I showed him my bite. He was shocked. It is pretty bad now that I look at it. Even though I paid Brownstone Brothers top dollar to not only pack my shit but also unpack it to the point that not a box is left in my new apartment when they leave, moving is still stressful and exhausting. Neicy came and helped me unpack. I don’t like the bathrooms, and I haven’t felt that unsettledness of being in a new building in eleven years, so the feeling took me by surprise. I was very focused on getting everything done and fixing what wasn’t right. Maybe that means I’m just old. The twenty-four-hour elevator operators add a whole layer of uncomfortable conversation the minute you walk out your door. One good thing is being directly across from an Associated supermarket, where I went around seven to get supplies. Bought a lot of pre-prepared food—Hickey says it’s crap, but he’s a food snob and I ain’t picky—while Delilah blared on the speakers. Delilah either makes me cozy or intensely sad, and tonight it was the latter. That feeling hung with me after I’d gotten home and nuked my premade dinner for one (chicken kebab, mushroom quinoa, and ro
asted mushrooms—yes, I doubled up on mushrooms, but it was dinner for one so I wasn’t answering to anyone) and sat in my little eat-in kitchen in the one chair I’d brought, looking out the window at New York City from a new vantage point (directly at that lit tower in Madison Square Park) feeling alone and sad. No stereo yet, no Wi-Fi, no TV, just me and double mushrooms. The dog wasn’t even here; I’d left him in Brooklyn because I didn’t think I’d be moved in. I felt the opposite of how I thought I’d feel tonight. Isn’t that what winds up happening in life? How am I ever going to remember all the elevator guys’ names?

  GG and Reza from Shahs of Sunset were on and they were lit up, willing to do or say anything no matter how filthy or ugly. When reality stars get to the point when they feel like they have to keep upping the game no matter how ugly they become, it’s upsetting. Lisa Vanderpump surprised them, and I think Reza was pissed that the spotlight was being taken off him. Lisa had just spoken about Ebola at the UN and, I mean, I can see her speaking about rosé or dogs at the UN, but now that I think about it the Ebola connection seems a little loose! Good for her, though. I came home and suddenly it was fun being in the new apartment alone. I wasn’t depressed.

  TUESDAY, MARCH 3, 2015

  Hickey came by and helped me decide where to put my art, after which the guys came to hang stuff, Time Warner came to install cable and internet and phone, and then JP came to look at my computers, the stereo people installed speakers, and the shade folks put in blackout curtains. I am all set up. And exhausted.

  We taped Kelly Clarkson, who is really nice, open, funny, boozy, and game. We acted out a scene from From Justin to Kelly. Came home to the apartment and am now completely in love. Kelly warned me that if you move to a temporary apartment with outdoor space you run the risk of not wanting to go back to your other apartment, and she’s right. I spent all this time putting my eggs into the basket of combining the two apartments and now I might be in the apartment I was meant to be in. What to do?

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 4, 2015

  Big snow. The dog went out on that Margot-Kidder-from-Superman terrace and that was his exercise, running around in the fresh untouched snow. He peed and pooed on the snow too. This dog loves pooing on snow. I picked up the poo and snow and put it in the toilet. Could life get better and more convenient?

  Shania Twain and Penn Badgley were on the pretape and Shania looked like she had walked right out of 1997—the hair was huge and curly and had to be highly flammable, whatever it was made of. She is perfectly nice but there is something very off about her, like she’s suffered a huge trauma. Or she’s Canadian. Well, actually both apply, so now I’ve figured it out.

  Came home and my phone and internet went out, so I fought with the cable company, who said it was actually Apple’s problem because of my fucking AirPort tower and Apple said I was out of warranty on the tower but that I could pay a one-time fee of twenty-nine dollars and they would help me. I told the lady that I was going to take the opportunity right then to say fuck you to Apple and hung up, at which point I realized that I was indeed the one who was fucked. You can’t beat the system.

  The live show was Anne Heche and Tim Daly. I’d not been looking forward to this one and didn’t enjoy it one bit, but the control room really loved how nutty Anne Heche was. Trying to get her to talk about her alter ego, Celestia, I brought up her sexual abuse, which made for an awkward transition to “Game time!” but I somehow managed. Ryan kept telling me that this Real Housewife of Melbourne was coming to the show and wanted to meet me. I met her before the show and she was a 2007 version of a Real Housewife: satin dress, bad hair, heavily scented. She asked if I was staring at her boobs and I said no. I wanted to say, “I’ve seen huge Housewives tits and these aren’t even in the ballpark,” but I was worried she might’ve taken that as a suggestion to get a tit job. She kept telling me how tired all the other Housewives were and that Beverly Hills needed her to join the cast and how could she make it happen. I told her it actually was not going to happen. On the other hand, she claims to be a psychic and said that my right knee was giving me problems, and she was exactly right about that! After the show I got more from her and wanted to run away. It was our “Friday” and so we stayed at work, drinking, and I asked my team what my downfall will be. A dick pic? Something racist? They’re gonna think about it. They seemed a little freaked by the conversation—I guess because if I fall, so do they?

  FRIDAY, MARCH 6, 2015

  Met with the architect and told him he might need to see Fifteenth Street because that could be our next project. If it weren’t a rental building, I would buy it. Had my first design meeting with Eric Hughes to pick out fabrics. Got overwhelmed. Pitched a show to Bravo called Andy’s Yearbook on which I look back at a year in pop culture and see how it’s affected what’s happening today, like a smart I Love the ’80s. I couldn’t tell if they liked it.

  Signed my Sirius deal. Now I need to find someone to run the channel—that hit me like a ton of bricks. And we have to program the channel twelve hours a day. Oy. Article on HuffPo that says I said Seacrest had Brian Dunkleman killed. Will that be my downfall? Nah. Photo shoot for Bravo Upfront. They had me dance a little and jump and stuff. I felt my knee and it reminded me that that woman was right. First little party at my new place—John Hill, Hickey, Amanda and Jim, Jeanne, Liza, Bill and Chris, Bryan. We rang the bell.

  SUNDAY, MARCH 8, 2015

  Spent all day in the tree house. Michael Rourke came by and talked ideas for my radio channel. I am getting pumped for London next week. The night I get in, I have plans for drinks with the British actor I met on Instagram Direct. He has made it very clear to me that he has to be up early and can’t stay out late, which translates to me as he is not into me and wants me to know that. He is so sexy. Ugh.

  It was Jon Stewart’s Night of Too Many Stars autism benefit and I worked the phone banks before the show, seated next to Susan Sarandon. I showed her my pot vape, which she said was “brilliant.” White Castle was the sponsor and I kept asking the stage manager for a burger and Sarandon said she knows what’s in them because of her time filming White Palace but then they brought them over an hour later and she had one. Cecily Strong said she watches everything on Bravo, as do the Broad City girls. Martin Short and I talked to Paul Shaffer about the end of Letterman in a couple months. Sounds to me like Dave thinks he made the wrong decision to leave.

  MONDAY, MARCH 9, 2015

  I was all prepared for three days of jury duty—I had a backpack full of stuff to occupy me and Wacha was home, expecting Daryn to come walk him in four hours. I was committed! I walked in and was flagged down by a wonderful female cop who asked me if I wanted her to get me out of the whole thing. Yes! I told her that last time I got out but then didn’t get a time-served letter and was back in the pool a year later. So I was free by nine-twenty and felt like Tim Robbins at the end of The Shawshank Redemption! Met Hickey at Bonsignour and sat outside in the balmy, sunny, 45-degree morning, and then we went and got Wacha and took him for a walk. These elevator operators in my building do everything—bring you mail and packages, bring people up—they have really great attitudes. I forget all their names.

  Wondering if my channel should be called Andy Radio or Radio Andy—Kelly, Lauren, and Bryan all like Radio Andy.

  TUESDAY, MARCH 10, 2015

  Now that I don’t have jury duty I was able to go to the gym, where I discovered Cristiano Ronaldo is circling: Not only is his body double (which I still don’t get) working out there, so is his Russian model ex-girlfriend. He has to be next. Lunch with the Consueloses at Morandi. Did Bethenny one-on-one, which was good except there are a ton of crazy legal issues associated with talking about her marriage. Rebel Heart came out and I texted Madonna that it was amazing and I was working on Liz to get her on my show. She said, “Ha! Thanks,” so that’s a kind of a “no.” Later in the day, after I’d listened to it five more times (and legitimately started to think it amazing), I texted her that there was no doubt that J
esus liked her pussy best, to which she replied, “hahahhahhaha.”

  My cable is fucked up once again. John Hill said the Jesus pussy line is like a parody of Madonna trying to be shocking. He may be right. Like what’s the one thing she hasn’t said, oh, that Jesus likes her pussy best. Liz Hurley and Tony Danza were on the show and it was surprisingly good. The bartender was a model dressed as a British guard—he was flirting like crazy during the show and I told him to stay for our staff cocktail party after. He turned out to be a complete drip, and straight, but the kind of straight guy who makes gay guys think we have a chance. Ain’t nobody got time for that!! Anthony came in at the precise moment I turned on the fake Brit, fake gay, fake model, and told him his car was waiting to take him home. Cheerio!

  WEDNESDAY, MARCH 11, 2015

  It was 60 degrees, plus Madonna was on Howard today at one, so it was like a holiday all day. I worked out and then stayed home to listen to the show, which was both satisfying and not enough for me. I want this interview so bad and I can feel it slipping away. I realized today that she is saying “Yeezus,” not “Jesus,” in that song. So my text made me look dumb. Yeezus loves my pussy best. Aha. Borrowed ten bucks from the daytime elevator operator (who wears a nice white button-down every day) for the laundry-card machine. I still don’t know his name. SJ and James Wilkie came over and she flipped for the apartment and outdoor space. We took a zillion pics outside and went to 5 Napkin Burger on Fourteenth Street even though James implored me to understand that the one on Bleecker and Seventh Avenue is way better. He was emphatic about that. Played phone tag with Jake, who I invited to Anderson’s and my opening night in Boston next week. Eli came over and we discussed the radio channel, my romance with Jake and Angela, and the bottom falling out of the TV business. Packed for London trip and went to bed.

  THURSDAY, MARCH 12, 2015—NYC—LONDON