Superficial
Page 19
I got on the plane and realized I never paid the elevator operator back his ten bucks. The day flight to London is so the way to go. My driver at Heathrow recognized me from Housewives, which is wild. Stayed at the lovely Covent Garden Hotel. Met the British Actor, who actually was sweetly flirty but has a boyfriend of six years. We had a drink at the hotel. British men are so fun to flirt with. We walked to the Soho House and had a couple drinks and something to eat there. This guy is very famous over here, and so it felt like opposite day because I was the one being handed the camera to take pictures and no one knew who I was. I loved it. Then we headed to Club Room Service in Soho, where I took more pics of him and his fans, and I randomly met a Brazilian who had DMed me on Instagram a year or so ago. #BritActor said he was leaving and that we would definitely hang out when he came to America in the fall. Not sure how that will play with his boyfriend, but I felt optimistic based on our connection. I stayed and worked on the Brazilian, who seemed not so into it but then I wandered off and he found me and kissed me on his way to the coat check, very passionately and forcefully. And if I have to lip sync for my life with a kiss, I will always win, because he came back with his coat for another one, and that was all it took for him to say, “Go get your coat; I will meet you in front.”
FRIDAY, MARCH 13, 2015—LONDON
I was not so happy being woken up in an Ambien haze at nine-thirty by room service with my tea. Had a photo shoot for the British magazine Attitude that involved me in various stages of undressing from a tuxedo after a night out. They played Madonna, so I was happy. The reporter told me that Madonna had told him that she loves skiing because she puts on her helmet and is anonymous, and once she got pushed on the mountain and she couldn’t believe it because no one pushes her. On the way back to the hotel Prince Charles and Duchess Camilla drove right past us in some weird car with a police escort! It was quite exciting. Had some pasta at a café and walked around and shopped. Am so high from my flirt with the #BritActor and just being in London. (The Brazilian also put a spring in my step.) Had dinner with Tom Hollander, his new girlfriend, and Joan Collins and Percy Gibson at The Colony Grill Room. Joan held court the entire time and we talked about everything: Ava Gardner (she lost her looks), Kim Kardashian (Joan is flummoxed by her), her chicken liver (she had to send it back because it was “almost moving on the plate”), the royals (all good), Linda Evans (not winning any awards for her acting, apparently). Joan told me I aged her up by three years when I mentioned her on my show recently; Jackie called her to let her know as soon as it happened. I felt terrible, of course. Joan is about to be Dame Joan and there are parties planned. There was an exhibit of wedding dresses at the Victoria and Albert Museum and Joan said hers was in there and I said dare I ask which one. She didn’t love that comment. We explained Instagram to her. She asked how many followers I have and how many followers I have on Twitter. She wants more followers. She doesn’t have a secretary, stylist, or publicist, but she is very much in the mix. She is a treasure and I loved every second of being with her.
I went back to the hotel and was supposed to meet #BritActor but he was tired, and I was tired but very bored and went to the Shadow Lounge. Lisa Vanderpump used to own it, so I kind of thought I might get in by osmosis, but I was of course unrecognized and disregarded at the front door before I got in and fought for a drink at the bar while getting no extra kindness from bartenders and being pushed aside several times by people. I’ve wanted anonymity when going out to a gay bar for the last few years, and I finally had it. I felt like Madonna on the slopes! I enjoyed myself but admit I missed the perks. Met a guy from Jordan and I tried to explain what I do, but he just wasn’t computing “talk show host.” He said that I was lying and walked away. There was one woman who recognized me—the wig-wearing bathroom attendant. She gave me her card; she’s a singer. Talked to this little twink who looked like Harry Styles’s cousin and asked him if he knows who Joan Collins is and he didn’t, and I showed him a picture and he said “Oh, yeah, it’s the old lady from the Snickers ads.”
SATURDAY, MARCH 14, 2015—LONDON
Hickey arrived and we met Micheál Neeson for a really fun lunch at The Wolseley, which was a favorite spot of Natasha’s. Finally it was time for the real reason for coming to London: Ralph starring in George Bernard Shaw’s Man and Superman at the National. He was phenomenal; it was a performance worthy of the trip. And it was perfect for Ralph—a four-hour treatise on not getting married. Walked over the bridge in the foggy night with the London Eye and Parliament in the background for dinner at the Delaunay. The thing in London seems to be fifties/sixties-ish looking places. Got blown off by #BritActor again so we met Ralph’s castmates at The Box. An Asian lady dressed as Prince took her pants off onstage and pissed in three champagne glasses, which she and her backup singers drank from, then threw on the audience. Theater! Hickey and I walked home. We’d taken half a molly apiece at the club and didn’t think it had worked, but it turned out it did so we just wandered. It was fun.
MONDAY, MARCH 16, 2015—NYC
Back home and had lunch w/ Jodi et al. They’re having a seventy-fifth birthday party for Uncle Stanley in St. Louis the day I am flying home from Atlanta, so I think I will stop in and attend. Everybody is getting old. Did press on phone for the radio channel. The taped show was Nick Cannon and Bobby Cannavale and the energy felt off to me. The live show was Thomas Ravenel and MJ from Shahs and it was electric. He blames me for his running for office!
TUESDAY, MARCH 17, 2015
Radio Andy was announced today. Watched the intro piece for our AC2 tour and it made me really excited. It feels real, and it better because our first show is Saturday. Booked a Snapple commercial for next week. I love Snapple. Had a coffee date with a guy I met at the gym yesterday who came over with pastries and it turns out he has a husband. And I said, so WTF are you doing here anyway? With pastries, yet!
WEDNESDAY, MARCH 18, 2015
Anderson and Barkin were on the show and he and I did a bunch of work on our videos and shot stuff before the show, during which I sent Cher a pic of both of us, which she loved despite that I am using her “brother (the good Andy) to sweet talk me into doing a radio show,” which she said she is still mulling. Then she asked if she could tweet the picture and said we are as cute as puppies, with a puppy emoji of course. I felt like I had the night off because Barkin and AC are so easy; it was a laugh riot. I couldn’t hold my tongue on the after show when someone called in asking what Anderson thought of Kathy Griffin leaving Fashion Police, which has been the big story this week. He defended her but I said she is the pot calling the kettle black, that she has been body shaming for years and can’t pretend she doesn’t make fun of people. Afterwards we showed Barkin our intro piece, then we had drinks in my office and broke down the state of the world. I texted Cher back and said I wasn’t using Coops to get her to do the show and she and I went back and forth. I went to bed thinking that she would try doing a few episodes.
THURSDAY, MARCH 19, 2015
There are so many elevator guys to keep track of! During the day there’s the cute one with the nice butt who wears button-down shirts, then there is a kind of manic guy who is into pop culture and has seen me on Colbert and stuff, then the overnight guy is a heavy, mellow dude who doesn’t say much. But the overnight guy shouldn’t say much, now that I think of it. What’s to say overnight?
Cracked my iPhone on way to the gym. By the time I got home Daryn had arranged for this guy to come over and fix it for two hundred bucks.
Went to Marc and Scott’s to practice my song for SJP’s birthday. All her friends are performing the score of Annie, and I will reprise my role as Bert Healy from the Clayton High School production and sing my critically heralded version of “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile.” Even though they’re my friends, I was quite tickled being “directed” by the Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman.
Had dinner with that gay weatherman I’ve been flirting with at the gym. He is very
attractive but I’m not sure there was a connection. I will say that he loves weather! During my massage I told Adam that I’m amazing at getting massages and it must be so nice for him to massage me because I am so receptive to it. He said I am the only client he has ever had who turns a massage into a compliment for himself.
FRIDAY, MARCH 20, 2015—NYC—BOSTON
First day of spring and I woke up to a text from Cher saying that she wants stats on who wants to hear her on the radio, what they’d want her to talk about, etc. She said she wasn’t nervous, she just thought that she and radio may not be a marriage made in heaven. So we may not have a done deal after all. I said the audience is people like me and we want you to talk about whatever the hell you want.
It started snowing just in time for my train trip to Boston and I had the best ride; I watched two episodes of RHONY and got some Sirius work done. Set up a meeting with Sarah Silverman in a month; she would be great for Radio Andy. I should just blow my whole programming budget on her and call it a day. Got to the Four Seasons and it was a very VIP arrival with a bunch of gifts waiting in the room, like Jack Daniels, an AC2 pastry thing, and some animal crackers, which I ate—but quickly found out they were actually crackers for animals. There was a random envelope with pictures of an older Jewish lady with famous people like Barbara Walters that she had used as holiday cards. I used to do that! The lady from the Four Seasons who brought me to my room said maybe I should’ve used an alias, which seemed rash. Looked at two other rooms to switch to because I didn’t like that the bathroom was so far from the bed, but wound up staying. My being a difficult hotel guest seems to be becoming a theme, which is great timing given that we’re embarking on a tour. A bunch of the staff from WWHL came for the weekend and I took them to dinner at Liquid Art House, then to Club Café where I met the cutest boy—a Brazilian version of Andy Samberg, a twenty-eight-year-old PhD student at Harvard studying epidemiology. He is obviously very smart and he has only seen an occasional clip of my show online and has a peripheral knowledge of me, which is perfect. He is adorable—did I say that? He spent the night.
SATURDAY, MARCH 21, 2015—BOSTON
As we were cuddling in bed this morning I asked #BrazilianAndySamberg what type of guy he is attracted to and he said his friends have come up with a term for it: “fattractive.” “So, um, just how fat do you think I am?” I wondered as I held his smooth, taut, tight, incredibly perfect body. No, he said, he just likes a little bit extra to hold onto. Someone a little stocky. That I could handle. Liza arrived and we went to Faneuil Hall, where none of my old friends still worked! What the hell—it’s only been twenty-five years since I stopped working at that pushcart! Liza couldn’t find the peanut butter store either, so things weren’t as either of us remembered, which is probably a good thing. We took advantage of the food court and had chowdah and pizza. I almost also got a hot dog but thankfully stopped myself even though I should’ve, given my new lover’s interest in a little chub. We became obsessed with a twelve-year-old kid named Bradley Bartlett-Roche wailing on a saxophone—he also played piano—in the middle of the food court and watched him for twenty minutes. There was nothing he couldn’t do! John Hill showed up and ripped us away from the kid and we walked to Beacon Hill. I remember getting out of the T stop at Park Street on my way to work at Faneuil Hall all those years ago thinking I was in the middle of a megalopolis, in the center of the world. Now that corner looks like a tame cozy little Olde Towne corner. We walked around Beacon Hill and it’s still picturesque.
Went to sound check with Anderson and Ben and got pretty freaked out by the size of the Wang Theatre—yes, we’re at the Wang; it’s massive and beautiful. We have a road manager and badges and a promoter. We are on tour. Hilarious.
We went back to the hotel to nap but I couldn’t sleep so John Hill brought his new teacup Yorkie, Linda(!), over for me to meet her. She is so cute but her breath is massively horrible, her teeth are a little fucked up, and she is wearing a diaper because she’s bleeding a lot from her vagina. Among other things, it made me long for Wacha’s bad, but not crippling, breath. Some lady called up to the room and said, “Did you get my CARDS?!” I said what are you talking about, and then realized it was the Jewish lady who left the envelope of photos. I said yes, and she demanded that I “come to the lobby so I can get a picture with you, and bring Anderson.” I told her I was napping and we would be down in the lobby at seven-fifteen to go to the theater and she could get it then. People can be bossy! I went down to the lobby an hour later and forgot all about it until I saw Anderson with her. She’d called his room and told him to come down, that she was with me. He thought I knew her.
Got to the theater and the dressing room had Coke Zero for AC and Don Julio for me, buckets of ice, and grilled chicken. That was my rider. Anderson thinks the grilled chicken and crudités are excessive. We forgot to deal with makeup and so asked our stage manager(!) to get some. He and I were both nervous, pacing around our dressing room, and I made Anderson apply mine. It turned out it was either Kabuki makeup or they’d gotten it for AC’s albino skin because I was white. The intro video played great; the crowd was riotous. I did an unintentional Valerie Cherish move when we were introduced—I thought AC hadn’t gone out yet but he was waiting for me onstage so mine was kind of a delayed entrance, which can be considered a bid for applause. Our conversation was good and the audience was electric. The audience questions at the end were a little weird—how big is your dick (“I’m really happy with it”), will you do a shotski with me (we did), can we get selfies (not now), and lots of Housewives stuff—so we need to set ground rules next time, like no plugs or statements or pictures. We took two hundred pictures with VIPs after and I was really tired—thankfully AC was being a really gracious host to them while I kind of stood there. It was really nice being in a duo, something I’m totally unfamiliar with. He picked up the slack for me. We were both so concerned with people leaving feeling they’d gotten their money’s worth that it wound up being a good balance of codependence. We changed in the car for the party at the W, which was another exercise in codependence—all my WWHL team plus random people I’d forgotten I’d invited. And then I regretted not inviting the Wasp and Jake and Angela to the party; I’d thought I was going to have to take care of them too much. We went to gay night at House of Blues, where Anthony had hooked us up with a special area. At some point a massive amount of confetti came down from the ceiling and I thought Liza was going to lose her mind. I have never seen her happier. #BrazilianAndySamberg came and we had another really fun night. He is dreamy.
SUNDAY, MARCH 22, 2015—BOSTON—NYC
Woke up at eleven-fifteen and snuggled with #BAS again and it was so blissful, except that I had to poop terribly. I told him I had to run an envelope down to the lobby and instead went to the health club to take care of my business. We ordered great room service and I gave him the bottle of Jack the hotel had left me and the Rebel Heart CD a fan had brought, but he had nowhere to play the CD so he left it. I am so analog. Flew home to my sunny apartment, which still smells like paint. No dog. Lonely. I look at his crate and miss him. I have to work early tomorrow and am going to the Mad Men premiere, so it made more sense for him to stay in Brooklyn. Amanda and I enjoyed the first episode immensely and saw Jon Hamm (hair on fleek and I told him so), Christina Hendricks (she is strawberry blond), Elisabeth Moss (we talked about Hickey and Bravo stuff), John Slattery (showed me a pic of a passed kidney stone). At the party, Chris Noth asked me if I am straight. I said yes. Then I said that no, I am actually the gayest man in America. He said, “You’re not the gayest man in America,” and I said you’re right and I am going home to fuck Amanda tonight. Then we talked about how NYC is dead because all the great stores and restaurants are closing, a perennial topic.
MONDAY, MARCH 23, 2015
I woke up at six-thirty and finally texted Cher one last long plea for the radio show and never heard back. Shot the Snapple commercial in Brooklyn. It was me at a table in a Fre
nch restaurant and the waiter and I bond over Snapple. It’s national Puppy Day and all Wacha did was chase shadows. I looked it up and I think he needs more exercise and he has to be interrupted when chasing. I’ve been taking him to the vet just to get treats in order to desensitize him to the experience of going there. Today was the sixth time, and he was good. His tail was up and he not only took treats from the people there but he walked around the whole office. This may be working. Benjamin brought over this ventriloquist’s dummy that an artist made of me; it’s my evil Mini Me. Wacha initially thought it was a toy for him but now he is scared shitless of it. He goes in the other direction when I bring him out and flap his mouth. At the show tonight, Wacha was also not having Brandi. He just didn’t care for her and rejected her advances. Mike, the porter from my old apartment building, was in the audience with his girlfriend and it was so good to see him.
TUESDAY, MARCH 24, 2015
James Corden premiered last night—he’s got two guests out there at the same time and a bar, which he called “the only bar in late night,” and then they played a game in front of a green screen and as much as I want to get all puffed up and offended, the truth is there is no original idea anymore. We’re all just ripping each other off. Carson was original. And Letterman.
We pretaped Sunday’s show with RuPaul and Regina King and I did my first one-on-one for Radio Andy with Ru after the show. It was forty minutes of good conversation. We went right up to ten-forty, at which point I had to run in and do a live promo and go through elements for the live show, which was Kyle and Jerry O’Connell. Jerry hung out with me after the show; he’s interested in a radio show, and then I made him come with me to my new building because I knew he, who grew up two blocks away in Chelsea, would flip when I showed him the apartment. He really did flip. The night elevator guy, Victor, plays jazz on his iPod. They’re all so nice.