by Andy Cohen
SATURDAY, MAY 16, 2015
Spent the day with Em walking all over town. There was some debate about whether Dad was going to come too but it wound up being just her, so we had good sibling fun. She is obsessed with the amount of goodies the Four Seasons left for me in my room: Swedish Fish, booze, pastries emblazoned with images of me and Anderson. AC got in this afternoon and on the way to the show I demanded we stop across the street from the Chicago Theatre to take a selfie with the marquee, which was officially the worst idea ever. People were already there for the show, and it turned into Beatlemania and then we had to be hard-asses and get back into the car and I got rightfully blamed for the fiasco. It turned out to be our best show yet, with an intensely enthusiastic sell-out crowd that included some Cubs and Dave Ansel. It felt like every story and punch line got a huge laugh, and we’re getting better at telling the ones we repeat and at finding new ones for the top of the show. Went to Sidetracks after and they’d reserved a private area for us—on some sort of stage, weirdly, so Anderson lasted about three seconds and said he was going next door to Minibar. I followed and we wound up having a blast.
SUNDAY, MAY 17, 2015—CHICAGO—NYC
Anderson said we should savor the energy of last night. He’s right. We won’t always get a response like that. Landed in NYC and met up with Mom, who is in town with her bridge club. She was never a dog person and doesn’t know how to interact with Wacha. She holds her hand up but he thinks she has a treat, and she’s trying to get him to stay down but he’s jumping on her for a treat. She asked me not to give her and Dad dirty stuff to do on WWHL and I said I couldn’t guarantee it. The Mad Men finale was perfection.
MONDAY, MAY 18, 2015
Had lunch with Mom’s bridge group at Bubby’s. I had matzo ball soup. Mom came back to my house and started to get into a groove with Wacha, rubbing his stomach. She didn’t get the Mad Men finale, that Don came up with the idea for the Coke campaign. The bridge group bartended and were hilarious. Our photographer, Chuck, brought Mom over to me for a photo during a commercial break and she said, “Are you gonna hang this in the Clubhouse WHEN I DIE?!” That kind of stopped everybody in their tracks.
TUESDAY, MAY 19, 2015
Shot the Southern Charm reunion and thoroughly enjoyed it. We had a whole group of Cardinals wives in the audience for WWHL—and after the game a bunch of the players and a coach showed up and I met the woman who retweeted that comment from Seth Maness’s account during the last post season that then became a big scandal. Sounds like the management of the team was pissed at her and her man really stood by her. I was, of course, thrilled to have been in the middle of it. Then we met the boys after their big win over the Mets at Anfora. It was like being at a character breakfast at Disneyland: They’re all giants. So it was Lackey, Maness, Wong, Jay, Big City, Siegrist, the new pitcher, Tuivailala, Grichuk, and … Wacha, who was really shy and I waited until we had a couple drinks in us to go deep about the dog and make sure he understood it was a sweet tribute and not creepy. He said he took it as such. The guy is only twenty-three. So is Grichuk, who is hot and sweet. I told him I want to set him up with a bunch of starlets. One of the guys taught me about “slump humps,” where you have sex with a heavy girl to get rid of a slump. He’s in one, he said. But he got two hits against Matt Harvey yesterday, so maybe he found a heavy girl in New York. They all wear bad jeans. I was in heaven looking around at all these tall Cardinals. They’re a lot of fun.
At around two I grabbed Wacha and said, “Wanna meet your guy?” We went outside and I gave Grichuk my phone to video the meeting. I opened the car and the dog was sleeping and I got him out. Wacha was kneeling down with a bunch of treats I’d given him and the dog was sleepily eating them out of his hands and we were kind of drunkenly loving on him. It was really adorable. We got a picture of them shaking hands. Then it was last call at Anfora and I took them all to the Cubby Hole, which was certainly titillating but didn’t really result in any lady sandwiches or anything. I left them around three; they were going on to 1 Oak, and I tried to get Wacha to say goodbye to Wacha but he barked and snarled. I yelled at him on the way home in the car. “You SNARL at your NAMESAKE?? THAT’S how you treat him?!?!” I have become my mother.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 20, 2015
Hoda called to beg me to be with her tomorrow night at the Red Nose Day event, and I told her I would do whatever she wanted but I now really regret it. I love her, but I don’t want to be on a double-decker bus all night in Times Square. Taped a show with Kellan Lutz and Vanessa Hudgens, who I kept thinking was the other one—Ashley Tisdale. Literally, she was about to walk in the Clubhouse and I turned to John Hill and said is it Ashley Tisdale or Vanessa Hudgens? I don’t know that generation so well. I am so old! Kellan Lutz is a little caveman-esque but he is very hot and gave me a hoodie from his clothing line, which is nine sizes too big but I wore it this afternoon on the terrace while talking to Hickey and pretended Kellan was my boyfriend who left his oversized hoodie when he slept over last night as a ploy to get back into my apartment. Hickey is stuck in Santa Fe again shooting season two of Manhattan and it sucks not having him here.
Went to the Riverkeeper benefit with Dave and Allie. Cheryl Hines introduced me as the host of “Watch What Happens Next”—which made me feel like crap. Speaking of shit, I came home and Wacha had pooped in the bedroom, which was a real bummer. I’m calling Brandon. The show was Vivica Fox and Fredrik—I was tired and cranky. Went straight to my office and watched Letterman’s finale alone. It was perfect, elegant; not a tear was shed. I thought of him after the show going up to his office and being alone. You always wind up alone at the end of the night, no matter how many people are cheering for you.
THURSDAY, MAY 21, 2015
Went to the Mets-Cardinals game with Jerry and Matthew and discovered the magic of Waze. Jerry should be their pitchman. We lost, but the food was spectacular! Shot the Red Nose Day live special on NBC with Hoda and we made the best of it. She always makes things better. Got a massage late and pondered the world’s problems.
FRIDAY, MAY 22, 2015—MONDAY, MAY 25, 2015—NYC—SAG HARBOR
Drove to the beach with the help of Waze, which took me over the Williamsburg Bridge and avoided a ton of traffic. I got there in two hours, in time for my annual summer kickoff lunch at the Consueloses’ consisting of lots of fried chicken and rosé. Took a lovely nap and had pizza at the counter of Sam’s alone, which was blissful. On Saturday night Calvin had a beautiful dinner for Sandy’s birthday. Had a long talk with Ingrid Sischy about doing a radio show for me, interviews with interesting people. She seemed really interested. Drove to Shelter Island for fried chicken at the Perskys’ on Sunday and heard myself on Howard Stern. The dogs were running around and Bill told me he’s feeling older and wishes he appreciated walking more when he could do it better. Big nap, Marci’s for dinner, and then Bethenny was telling me to come over because she had a house full of gay guys. I chose sleep instead. Maybe I should get out more.
Tweeted about Memorial Day, but first I tweeted something about the men in uniform and then people said what about the women, so I deleted that and redid it but the bigger problem was that I tweeted “thank you” to the troops, not “Remember the troops.” So everyone was up my ass and I had to redo the fucking Memorial Day tweet several times. Worked out at Tracy Anderson’s studio but left the class after the cardio portion. Did my rounds: lunch at Bethenny’s; Eric Stonestreet was there, and a family. The kids took the big burgers and we ate sliders and I was resentful. Then to Sandy’s, where we hung out and wrote interview questions for our talk next week, then to the Fallons’, where Gary and Wacha ran around. Jimmy and Nancy were in matching windbreakers and I took a Jacuzzi. Watched Twenty Feet from Stardom and went to bed really early.
TUESDAY, MAY 26, 2015—SAG HARBOR—NYC
I am having low-level depression about my birthday, and about the Hamptons. I feel like I did it already, like it’s a repeat of last summer. Drove back to the city in a fog of Howard Stern.
I dropped the car off and went to my construction site and there was a note from the Waspy lesbian seersucker lady on the seventeenth floor saying thanks for the “heads up” on the work on the apartment and good luck. But I didn’t give her a heads-up, and why did she put it in quotation marks? I spent a long time with Surfin and Mike debating whether she was just being passive aggressive or what. Then Carlos got there and I asked him and he couldn’t decide what it meant. I miss my old building.
Had dinner with Amanda and dared Grac to come but they’re going to see Joan Jett. I went to bed at ten-thirty but I made lists in my head about everything I’m stressed about and that kept me up: my birthday next week (I wanted to have a party on the terrace but it’s supposed to be chilly and rainy Tuesday night), the amfAR event for which my parents and Em and Rob are coming in but they have no one to introduce me and I don’t know how many seats I have and haven’t invited anybody, my radio channel (unprogrammed and launching soon), my new publicist to whom I have paid five thousand dollars and whom I called on Friday and she never called me back—oh, and the area in my groin that itches where I pulled a tick off me on Sunday, and the hair loss I saw in the rearview mirror while driving home from the beach. I could almost see through the front of my hair. Tossed and turned and made lists. This could be the moment where everything falls to shit in my life.
WEDNESDAY, MAY 27, 2015
I had so many fucking lists when I woke up there was no way I was going to fail. Started the day with a pretape with Kevin Dillon and Kevin Connolly, both of whom I liked very much. Went up to Bravo, where I TCBed it on the radio station. Working on shows from Ali Wentworth and Sandra Bernhard, but I need a lot more. Had a meeting with Henry Goldblatt, the editor in chief of EW, about my editing an issue in August; he said we have to schedule the cover shoot and I realized I’m going to be on the cover of EW. Wow. I couldn’t believe it. I told him it’s going to be their least selling issue of the year. Went to Sandra Bernhard’s dermatologist and had a Triad facial for eight hundred bucks, which he said was actually a deal. He also asked me two minutes into the appointment when I was going to send a tweet about him. Anyway, he also prescribed doxycycline for the tick and some new hair shit. Went to Danny Neeson’s graduation party at the Palm. Dermot Mulroney was on the show and his only prerequisite was that we not ask about Dylan McDermott, so I guess too many people have done “Is it Dermot Mulroney, Dylan McDermott, or Dean McDermott?” (We have played it with Dylan!)
THURSDAY, MAY 28, 2015
Slept fitfully, and Wacha left for Brooklyn first thing in the morning. I cancelled the Ninj, who sent me a teary emoji. Poor Ninj! Planned my Grateful Dead trip with John Mayer. Had a long talk with my new publicist and we figured a lot out. No resolution on my birthday party, but I started inviting people to amfAR and now I feel like if the birthday party doesn’t happen it’ll be fine because that will be enough. Creative call with Sandra Bernhard, who seems to be on the same page as I am. I’m not sure if she and I are on the same page about the facial I got from her dermatologist, though, because I can’t tell the difference one way or the other. Went to the Friends In Deed photography event and who did I run into on her way to get a charger at the Apple Store but Sandra herself, who eyeballed my face and said it was better.
I was feeling bored and SJP came over out of nowhere and ordered food, which we ate on the terrace, turning it into a magical Manhattan night—the kind where everybody is out on the street and you never want to go inside.
FRIDAY, MAY 29, 2015—NYC—SAG HARBOR
Trained with a new guy at Will’s gym, Robbie. He grunts when he boxes and that was exciting me. Drove to the beach—Waze took me through the Midtown Tunnel and on the Long Island Expressway, so that was no big diversion.
Went to Almond with Troy—my first time there in five years, and I expected it to be all old gay guys with cashmere sweaters over their shoulders but it was actually younger gay guys with cashmere sweaters over their shoulders, so that was a big change. Earlier in the night it was people my age and I was looking around thinking, “Look at all the old people,” and then I realized I was one of them. Troy and I got in a fight about the safety of Ubers; I told him he’s been working for 48 Hours Mystery for too long because he thinks everything is a setup for murder. By the way, Uber in the Hamptons is amazing. I drank and didn’t have to worry about driving.
SATURDAY, MAY 30, 2015—SAG HARBOR
Was feeling a little blue but it turned into a lovely day. Went to Marci’s, where we hung on the beach with Christina McGuinness. The dog was being very codependent. Then I dropped him off at Sandy’s and went to the gay beach with Justin and his friend Peter. All day Sandy was saying who else fun can we have at my dinner? Well, we only wound up with me, Sandy, Brian, Ingrid Sischy, and Donna Karan.
SUMMER/FALL 2015
IN WHICH I …
• CELEBRATE GAY PRIDE IN A VERY STRAIGHT WAY,
• OFFEND THE BLACK COMMUNITY,
• LAUNCH A RADIO CHANNEL,
• AND HOST NEW YEAR’S EVE ON NBC.
TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 2015—NYC
It was a fine forty-eighth birthday. Last night Solly and I rang in our birthday eve with Jeanne, Fred, and crew at Benihana. (No third-degree burns.) Met #BrazilianAndySamberg and his best pals in Brooklyn, where we watched The Bachelorette and I apparently said something his friends thought was transphobic. So we beat that to death. Then we went to a fun gay bar where everybody was really hairy. The drag queen overtook the mic, and we had to run. Had a good morning with #BAS, and I can always count on my sweet dad to be my first call of the day. Birthday texts from a few Cardinals, some Housewives, and every one-nighter I’ve ever had. Had a most awesome dinner at Indochine with OGs Jackie, Amanda, Liza, Grac, and SJP and it ended with us coming up with their Housewives taglines, which oddly is something none of us had ever thought about before.
JACKIE: I know my way around a gallery because I’m a work of art.
AMANDA: During the day the doctor is in, at night I’m accepting new patients. (Alternate:… at night the lady is out.)
LIZA: I’m a daytime gal but I come alive at night.
GRAC: I rub elbows on Park Avenue but my heart is in the Mudd Club. (Alternate:… heart is in Danceteria.)
SJP: You may think you know me but don’t get Carried away. (We forced her to add Carrie to it.)
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 3, 2015
I was so pissed at Wacha today; he was eating everything off the street. This woman saw me yelling at him and for sure thought I was abusing him. And I took him to the vet to get shit sprayed up his nose for kennel cough or something and he wasn’t having it at all, so I wound up bringing it home to do myself and I sprayed it across the terrace. I guess we’re all getting kennel cough because I ain’t trying again. After my endless prodding, the Countess recorded a new song riffing on her “Don’t be uncool” line. I told her it was a moment and she had to seize it. Fun party for Anderson’s birthday tonight. When mine is over, his begins, so I ride his wave too.
THURSDAY, JUNE 4, 2015
I woke up to the news that Diana Ross had joined Twitter and I freaked out. I kept retweeting her weird tweets and it was pandemonium in my bed. Wacha gave me side-eye while he tried to figure out why I was so hyped. Did a radio press tour with Anderson—basically a conference call where they connect us to stations across the country to promote the AC2 tour. I got yelled at by him three times for doing other things: opening presents, eating toast, clearing dishes, reading Diana tweets to him. He told me to “Sit and pay attention.” Later in the afternoon I got a text from Cher asking if I’m cheating on her with Miss Ross. (I love that she called her Miss Ross in the text.) I told her I don’t know her but am a fan and am fascinated by her inability to manage her legacy in a way similar to Cher. The Countess asked me to come hear her song in the recording studio and I loved it.
I hosted some kind of gay pride roundtable at the W Hotel and was at loggerheads with a transgender woman because I didn’t unders
tand why she wasn’t thrilled about Caitlynmania—wasn’t it ultimately a great educational opportunity for America to learn about the trans struggle? She said it was because Caitlyn is so rich, it’s only one view of the issue and not great for the entire community. I didn’t totally get it. Then #BAS explained it. He speaks “college campus” to me. I’m going through a massive homosexual crisis because they punched open the ceiling in my apartment to make room for a staircase and you can see both floors of windows when you walk into the apartment and it feels so dramatic and open that I’m wondering if I should make the family room have a double-height ceiling and dump that upstairs guest room.
Wacha pooped in the extra room. I sat on the terrace in front of the window with him bound to the cinder block, curled up like a pretzel watching what he was missing out on, which was me watching Julia Louis-Dreyfus on Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee. She hates the Housewives and I’m pretty sure that’s why she won’t do my show.
FRIDAY, JUNE 5, 2015
The Donut Pub around the corner is killing me! I lived in the close vicinity of it for twenty years, but now that #BAS is spending some time in NYC he’s really opening my eyes to donuts as a plausible late-night snack. Luckily he also likes #fattractive people. I lay in bed late last night wondering what would happen if I died in my sleep and I realized Daryn was coming here today to get some photos hung and that she would find me then. So I told her today to be glad I wasn’t dead. Went to the CAA Tony party, then met Bill at an all-black club and it was the most fun ever. I was one of five white people. The energy was electric and chilled out at the same time. Everyone is beautiful, even guys with bodies that aren’t ripped up. And everyone is nice, happy to see you, and not rushing over with a camera. Plus they all love the Atlanta Housewives. We met so many great guys. Why hasn’t it gone totally mainstream that black people are so much cooler than white people? White people are afraid of everyone realizing the truth, right?