by Andy Cohen
SATURDAY, APRIL 11, 2015
Bruce says that if you take your iPhone to the Apple Store after a random Asian dude on Fourteenth Street has fixed it, they know it’s been touched and won’t go near it themselves. So I feel like my phone has a disease or something. Boxed seven rounds with the Ninj today, and I never work out on a Saturday. Brandon the hot trainer came back and we worked on “heel” and “stay.” The truth is that as hot as Brandon is, he only talks about dogs—which is all I want to talk to him about but I do also maybe want to flirt or find out who he is fucking. Took an Uber to Bar Italia on the Upper East Side to meet Mark and Kelly and it took fifty minutes—crazy traffic, and I was a backseat driver the whole way. At least I had my vape. I got out of his car and the guy behind us was honking like nuts because we stopped and I started yelling at the guy but he rolled down his window and then threatened me and he looked like he could beat the crap out of me so I backed down and stormed into the restaurant, where they claimed not to know anything about a Consuelos party and I realized I was in the wrong place. Dinner, when I finally located it, was a lot of laughs; Rachael Harris joined too, and then I split to meet Billy Eichner at ASC, and then we went to Industry. Gay, gay, gay, gay.
SUNDAY, APRIL 12, 2015
I guess the guy who wanted to make me pasta all those months ago was at ASC and was texting me late last night after I’d passed out. He has been trying to cook me a pasta dinner for months and I have been blowing him off, so this morning he took matters into his own hands and sent me a pic of him in his underwear—and then, when I took the bait, a pic of his ass, then a pic of his dick. I felt kind of bad for him for objectifying himself when he is a nice, quality person but this is the time we live in. It made me a little sad. But it did make me want to finally see him, so I think he did the right thing. Maybe not with pasta, though. Met John Hill at Bubby’s and talked ideas for his radio show. Took him to see the construction on my dream apartment, then went home and ordered outdoor furniture for my other dream apartment. Brandon came over and realized that Wacha had been severely beaten with a rope or leash in his past life. He recoils dramatically if you hold the leash up a certain way.
The show was on early and it was Porsha and Phaedra, who decided her business was personal and was reading all the callers to filth. The control room was abuzz because Deirdre adopted Linda, John Hill’s teacup Yorkie with horrible teeth and breath issues who was in a diaper menstruating when I met her last month. Thankfully, Deirdre got her teeth fixed (pulled, I think) and Linda’s not bleeding from the vagina anymore, so it’s a real Hope Over Heartbreak story. We should consider pitching it to Lifetime. Mad Men was slow and kinda boring. But also good. Doesn’t that describe every episode?
MONDAY, APRIL 13, 2015
I downloaded the ethnically diverse emojis today. And my phone is completely freaked out. It is diseased. It’s doing crazy things. Not because of the ethnically diverse emojis, but because I had it fixed by the Asian on Fourteenth Street, as Bruce predicted. Went to Padma’s Blossom Ball and talked with Gail Simmons, met a cute doctor, and sat between Padma and Norman Reedus. Told Norman that Wacha’s original name was Norman Reedus, and Norman wants me to change it back. Went to WWHL, which was the Botched guys, who refused to really weigh in on any celebrity plastic surgery so that was kinda boring. Heather said Vicki is “done” if this cancer thing turns out to be not true. Came home and watched SJP saying goodbye on Letterman. She was perfect and it is amazing to see how unsentimental he is.
TUESDAY, APRIL 14, 2015
Haven’t had a drink in a few days and woke up feeling even worse than if I had. Hmmm. My delivery guys charged me seven hundred dollars to transport the couch that Mark and Kelly lent me for the terrace, and maybe that’s the cost of a new couch. Worked out. Weighed myself for the first time since last October—170.8. The Ninj and I were excited. Went up to Ralph Lauren for a fitting for the Met Ball and Travis had picked out a Purple Label midnight-blue tuxedo, so that was easy. SJP is getting a red corsage of some kind made to complement her dress. The theme is Asian something—Chinese Whispers? She is wearing a huge headdress.
Came home and interviewed Sean Avery and Hilary Rhoda for Hamptons magazine by phone. Sean was twelve minutes late and I yelled at him. I was bitchy as fuck! Brandon came over and we worked on a complicated “stay”—throwing food all around Wacha and getting him to stay there and not go for it. He was decent at it. Showered and went to a night of parties—first stop was Hunter Hill’s BlackBook party, where I saw Veronica Webb for the first time in years. She was telling me Grac’s ACL surgery must’ve gone great because she didn’t hear otherwise, and I got territorial. Then to the Vanity Fair Tribeca Film Festival party on the terrace of the courthouse downtown, which was lit up beautifully. Talked to John McEnroe (again wearing Björn Borg undies), Caryn Zucker, Gayle King (about RHOA), and Julie Chen, who gave me some unprintable gossip. Then to the show, which was Bethenny and Isaac Mizrahi. She did an off-the-cuff reverse one-on-one with me about the Housewives after the show that was supposed to be for the web but I think we can air it. Got home and immediately took Wacha out around the block and met a big fat cop from the Chelsea precinct coming out of—wait for it—the Donut Pub! His wife loves me and I said to come to the show and he will definitely get laid that night. I get guys laid, I told him. Then I walked away thinking, “Who the fuck do I think I am?” Wacha wouldn’t poop on the walk and I got home and found out why—he’d gone in three spots on the rug in my room, so I did what Brandon said and tied his leash to a piece of stone I took from the construction site and made him sit next to the poo for half an hour. He did not like it one bit. Brandon said to keep doing that every time he shits in the house and he will stop. They don’t like to be near the poo. Who does?
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 15, 2015
This was a nutty day. Walked Wacha for an hour, stopped by the apartment construction, went to the bank, hit the Apple Store and got a brand-new iPhone because the other one has a life of its own and it’s typing gibberish. Worked out with the Ninja. Came home and Wacha had pooped again in the bedroom! Same spot! I was so pissed and he seemed really ashamed, looking at me with his big eyes. He knew I was mad at him, but I didn’t get crazy and he sat tethered by it. We got to WWHL for the taping with Suzanne Somers and Reba McEntire, who I interviewed for Radio Andy and asked how crazy the Judds are (she paused and said they are “colorful” and then “very smart”—which means “nuts” to me), whether she thinks Carl Dean exists (she said it’s been a big topic of discussion over the years in Nashville) and about the plane crash that killed her road manager and eight band members (“Dolly was the first one on the phone, offering me her band”). I love country kinship!
Joe Giudice came in for a meeting with his lawyer. He tells me Teresa’s prison is barely a prison and it’s no big deal. He and the lawyer showed me a pic of Teresa and the family taken in the jail by Us Weekly where Teresa’s hair is straightened and she looks exactly like a Housewife; they ran one with curly hair in the magazine because she looks more like a prisoner. He has an idea for a beverage channel and I don’t know what to do with that. Went home and watched cuts of RHONY and RHOA on the terrace while drinking tea. It was so lovely. FaceTimed with #BrazilianAndySamberg, who is really easy to talk to. Walked the dog and saw a gorgeous male model who was sitting in Starbucks—we locked eyes and he came out to tell me he was going to be on my show that night, shirtless, for our game. He is a beauty, tall and blond and fresh off the boat—his second day in NYC. I started giving him advice about New York, realized he hadn’t asked, and walked away. Dinner with John Mayer at Nobu. We very spontaneously decided to take his EarthRoamer from LA to Santa Rosa for the Dead shows at the end of June—how fun will that be? By the time I got to the show I felt like I’d lived three lives in one day. I picked a Jackhole that made fun of how slow the subways are after a guy was found dead on the subway and I said the L train made him twenty minutes late for heaven. Deirdre, John Jude, and Melissa
all hated the joke but I thought it was funny and told it anyway. No one laughed. Actually, a few people groaned and gasped.
THURSDAY, APRIL 16, 2015—NYC—MIAMI
Woke up and had tea on the terrace. Feeling grateful for my blessed life, my health, New York City, the dog, my terrace, getting to travel on someone else’s dime, and a great room in Miami waiting for me two days in advance of my show with Anderson. I do not want for anything. Watched two cuts of RHONY on the plane while the flight attendant said we were having “light to dangerous turbulence” and not to go into the aisles because we would get hurt. Got to Miami and had a half hour by the pool before I did two local news interviews promoting our appearance (we still have some tickets to sell), then back to the pool for twenty minutes in the sun and then up to get a massage. The massage therapist was stuck in traffic and almost an hour late, which was a first for me. You don’t think about the massage therapist getting to the massage; they’re just there. It was great until the very end, when he had me open my eyes so he could give me a high five. On the table. It was really weird. Oh, I spoke to Jake in Boston today. He and Angela are actually going to be in New York City Sunday night and coming to WWHL. I started to wonder all over again if I was going to lose my virginity.
SATURDAY, APRIL 18, 2015—MIAMI
Anderson arrived and I told him to meet me at the pool, which he eyeballed for ten seconds and decided he hated, which wasn’t a surprise. We had lunch on the porch and by the time I got back to the pool—Anderson went to nap, natch—it was an endless parade of people who are coming to the show tonight sending me rosé after rosé. I didn’t drink any, of course. I don’t drink. I realized in the bathroom that my body is looking good again, and that’s a good thing because I got papp’d out on the beach. I felt okay about it but then this woman ran up to me like a lunatic and hurled herself at me, saying, “Who are you?” Eventually I pushed her away and said, “No one.” I realized twenty minutes later by the pool that now there are pictures of me pushing a girl on the beach.
Went to the Jackie Gleason Theater with Anderson for a sound check and they couldn’t wait to show us Gleason’s dressing room, which didn’t seem like much of anything beyond a leather couch warehouse. Some people came backstage before the show—Cousin Dave and his friends and the nice guy from Phish, who brought me a joint from Vermont and was surprised when I said I would fly back with it. They’re not looking for pot, I said. Anderson and I did a shot before the show as we waited, bored, in that leather showroom. He’s not a drinker so I considered it something of a victory. The show was great, much tighter than in Boston. Our chemistry was really good and the audience seemed into it—except for the two Waspy ladies sitting directly in front of us, who did not crack a smile. I keep meaning to ask Anderson if he noticed them. There were many, many toupées at the meet and greet—bad ones, which sounds redundant—and very interesting, eclectic fashion. Went to House, which was really fun—a big, brand-new, highly air-conditioned club. I kept bringing different boys up to the VIP area and Anderson and company were rejecting them, saying my taste was really warped.
MONDAY, APRIL 20, 2015—NYC
I’m still a virgin. Jake and Angela were at the show last night and we all hung out and had many drinks together, but I think we talked about it too much. The magic was gone somehow. Rainy day and not much happened. The table for the terrace arrived from Crate and Barrel at 8:00 a.m., then I went back to bed until 10:45 and lay around. Recounted the tale of last night with Jake and Angela to Kelly, who is fascinated by my thrupple. I emailed Anderson to see if he’d seen the Waspy ladies in front of us. He said he too saw no one else in the audience but the Waspy ladies. So we were both doing the show for two people who weren’t enjoying it much. Mike Robley, the saintly production assistant on WWHL, got me a better cinder block to tether Wacha to in case of an indoor poop. It’s his twenty-third birthday and he said he felt old.
TUESDAY, APRIL 21, 2015
Sluggish workout at the gym. On the way home I ran into one of my camera men on Fifteenth Street and I said WTF are you doing on this shady block; you must be going to have an affair. He said he actually was indeed on his way to see a lady friend. We laughed and went our separate ways. He texted me later in disbelief about my ESP. I said there’s no reason for anyone to be on that block who isn’t up to no good. Went out again to a Holt meeting, where they want me to do a YA book about coming out. My concern is that I already told the story in Most Talkative and also that I will put stuff in there that my family won’t want to read. Came home and Wacha had pooped on the rug in the bedroom so I tied him to the cinder block as instructed for a half hour. He seemed humbled for sure. He was crying in the room. He never cries. I hope it works.
Mo’Nique was on the show and for some reason the staff was terrified of her. I went into her dressing room to butter her up but she was already so touched we had Mo’Nique cupcakes in her room (we give our guests personalized cupcakes and they flip over them). I told her we have been giving our guests cupcakes with her face on them for many years and we were so excited to finally give them to her. She looked at me in utter disbelief before I broke the news that I was kidding. She said I am so shady, but she knows I am a twelve-year-old boy inside. So at least she understands me.
WEDNESDAY, APRIL 22, 2015
I am in a complete pickle with Tori Spelling. Twice on the show I’ve made fun of her burning herself on a hibachi at Benihana. It seemed so stupid—and funny. The first time was blatant—I said they added chicken cacciaTORI to their menu—but she apparently also caught my second reference and was pissed and sent me an email. To be honest, I started reading the email, saw I was in big trouble with her, and barely read it all the way through because I hate being in trouble and wanted to get out of it in the time it would’ve taken me to finish the email. The gist of the email was that she always liked me but that her heart sank when she saw me say, “… drink until you fall into the hibachi grill at Benihana. I haven’t stopped laughing about that.” She said she was in the burn unit of the hospital for two weeks and had to have two major surgeries, and the burn on her right arm was down to her bone and on and on and on about the surgeries and the pain. I flashed back to her Ebola scare the week her series premiered a few months ago and wondered where on the scale of reality this information fell, but I felt horrible for hurting her feelings. Like I said, I barely read the e-mail, though I thought she’d said that among her calamities, she hadn’t been able to eat since this happened. I sent back an email profusely apologizing, referencing a pic she posted on her Instagram the day of the burn, saying besides the burn it looks like you had a great day and that her husband had commented somewhere that the burn was small so we assumed it wasn’t serious and if I thought it was I wouldn’t have joked about it. I ended by saying, “EAT SOMETHING!” But I guess that was exactly the wrong thing to say because I immediately got a horrified email back asking what I meant by that, and why I was insulting her weight, and that she used to love me and I should find out the details before making jokes and that she will never be able to use her arm again. I looked at the original email and there was no mention of eating. Whoops. So not only did I skinny-shame her out of nowhere, she will never be able to use her arm again and it was time for some serious backtracking. I said that I had totally misread her email and I wouldn’t have joked about it if I thought it was serious. She said “OK.” I have a bad feeling about this. And I feel terrible that I was making fun of her and she will never be able to use her arm again.
I took a nap at the end of the day and woke up at 8:00 p.m. to a text that Hayden Panettiere is puking and cancelled being on the show. I texted Jerry O’Connell, who came through in a big way—with Lori Loughlin—and it was a great one. We reenacted Full House and I played Michelle and the team thought I thought she was mentally challenged. Amy Sedaris came and hung out after and I might’ve convinced her to do a six-week trial run on the radio. We did my first Periscope together.
FRIDAY, APRIL 24,
2015
I am starting to learn the elevator guys’ names—the cute daytime one is David. The night guy is either Victor or Vincent, and one of them has a son also named either Victor or Vincent. I don’t know. Got an email from Ashley Olsen saying my Michelle was perfect. Went to Brooklyn and hung with John Hill. #BrazilianAndySamberg is in town and came over with friends. Went to Eastern Bloc and met Anderson and Ben. Darren, the DJ, asked for a request and I said, Diana Ross? And he said, “Oh, these kids won’t know what to do with that.” So he said he would play more Madonna for me. And #BrazilianAndySamberg made fun of me for tying my jacket around my waist; I guess that’s an old-folk thing to do. Got home and Wacha had pooped on the carpet so he was tied to the cinder block while we ate. We went to the Donut Pub on Fourteenth Street, which was divine!
SATURDAY, APRIL 25, 2015
SJP says that donut place is a national treasure and should be on the register of historic places. How have I lived so close to it for so long and never even noticed it? Went out with #BAS and again had a blast with him although I was feeling sick when we were almost home, so I sent him back to the donut shop and nearly puked on the street but got stopped to take selfies twice just as I was about to get sick. I can only imagine what those pictures look like. And Wacha wouldn’t shit on his last walk with me so I came home to his poop inside. I tethered him to the cinder block for a half hour. Is it safe to say this is not working?