The Andy Cohen Diaries (13 page)

I told her I saw a picture of her kissing a guy in her new video and she said she thought he was gay, and I said, “Throw your scraps to Daddy,” which didn't get the reaction I was hoping for. Then I said, “Or just send me some background dancers.” It was all very stilted. They brought me in to “connect” with her but how do you do that when there are twenty people around? She seemed shy and somewhere else, which made me a little sad about the whole situation. And then they said Britney was going to get touched up. I walked out and was in the hall and they kept trying to introduce me to Will.i.am, like three times, and he wanted nothing to do with me. I thought, “Oh my God. What have I said about Will.i.am or the Black Eyed Peas on my show or in life that has made this guy hate me?”

Finally we did the Q and A and that was even more awkward. She's simple and shy, and doesn't give you much, and what she does give is pretty short answers. I would ask a couple questions and then we'd sit and listen to a song in front of an audience that was standing there watching us listen. I became obsessed with the dynamic between Brit and one of her handlers, an older woman who has welded herself to Brit's hip, whispering in her ear at every opportunity. While the songs were playing she would come up to the stage and whisper something “important” to her. I think she's there to help but it's clear to my novice eyes that she is doing the opposite. I started thinking that maybe Brit wouldn't be so good on
WWHL
. You really have to be sharp and on top of your game. After schlepping to LA for eighteen hours, I came to that conclusion.

I took a picture with Britney and I felt almost ashamed. Then I had dinner with Hickey and Jeffrey and Brad Goreski and Gary at Madeo. Mood improved.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 2013—LOS ANGELES–NYC

Halfway through the morning ride to LAX it became clear to me that my driver was high on crystal meth. Literally. When we got to the airport he goes, “Are you sure you don't want to come party with me?” He wasn't talking about a cocktail. He's a good driver and I've had him before, but he was definitely high. I didn't tattle on him. He needs the job to support his meth habit!

On the plane it dawned on me that I had sent a bunch of nasty tweets about the Black Eyed Peas during the Super Bowl halftime show a couple years ago, but Will.i.am would never have seen that. Then I remembered that when Eve was on my show once, she said she heard that Britney didn't record the tracks on “Scream and Shout.” Maybe he was pissed at that? Maybe he just thinks I'm a loser. Maybe he thinks nothing about me! We are all just stuck with our head up our own ass, that's the net net here.

I read on the plane that Patti Smith has a song on the
Hunger Games
soundtrack, so now I know why she was at the movie. And I saw a picture of myself in front of Bergdorf's with that plum Loro Piana scarf. I look like I am mid–gender transition. Not my best look.

When I got home Wacha burrowed his face in my legs. I think he's really scared that I'm gonna leave him. And maybe he's wondering if this is a part-time love affair or what. If I could tell him anything (that he would understand), it would be that he is not going anywhere and neither am I. He is home.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 2013—NYC–SAG HARBOR

I took Wacha to Ava's birthday party and I might've enjoyed the pottery party as much as my goddaughter. I made Wacha a dog bowl with his name on it, then we drove out to the Hamptons for his first trip and what was essentially a tour of the East End's best houses. We spent the afternoon at Marci Klein's and he had a good explore on the beach. After lounging at my house, we went to Albert Bianchini's and Mark and Kelly compared him favorably to Albert's codependent dog, Rufus, which made me a proud daddy.

At the end of the day, I noticed that something was wrong with the way he was standing up. He seemed to be in pain.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 2013—SAG HARBOR–NYC

Today Wacha visited Sandy Gallin's and the Seinfelds'. I kept looking at him, saying, “You stepped in shit. You were in a kill shelter in West Virginia and now you're at Jerry Seinfeld's in the Hamptons.”

Sandy told me that I'm fat and that I need to lose weight because I'm on TV, and he's right. And as much as I've been thinking it myself, hearing it from a friend who managed talent for as long as he did really hit home. He was being a friend and he should know. So I decided then and there, amid a sea of white furniture and dark wood floors, that I'm going to be sober for the month of January and I'm going to lose ten pounds. Besides discussing my emerging obesity, we all noticed that Wacha was having major trouble getting up and even walking. He was really tentative—this after playing in the yard with a bunch of other dogs. It was freaking me out.

On the drive back to the city, I took Wacha to the animal hospital in Riverhead. The vet says he thinks his hip is sprained. He popped a boner. Wacha, not the vet.

I got a message from Teresa saying congrats on my new deal. She said she wanted to wait until it was final to call me. I mean, did she know that I've been working on this deal for nine months? Was she aware? Then she said, “I think we should partner together. I'm going to make you millions. I'm going to make you richer than Ryan Seacrest.” Intriguing!

I went to Bruce's and watched the AMAs, and once again his doorman acted like he'd never seen me before. I have been going over there for years and it's always like the first time with this doorman. This guy could not pick me out of a lineup.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 2013

I took Wacha to the vet, who said “Oh my
God!
” when she saw the X-ray. Apparently his hips are fucked up, I mean really fucked up. He's gonna have to get surgery, she says. I have to take him to the animal hospital uptown. I feel so bad for the little guy. Surgery??

Ricky Van Veen and Allison Williams came over and we ordered in and basically had a four-way with my poor handi-capable dog.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 26–SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 2013—NYC–ST. LOUIS

My annual Thanksgiving pilgrimage to St. Louis. At the airport my Dopp kit was inspected by the TSA agent but she failed to clock the big fat joint I'd mistakenly left in there that was staring her in the face. And I saw the winner of
Battle of the Network Reality Stars
going through security but I can't remember his name. Maybe Joe Schmo? I wonder what was in
his
Dopp kit.

I'm shooting something on
Sesame Street
right after Thanksgiving, and when I got to my parents' I had a call with the wardrobe guy about how not to get lost shooting w/ Elmo and the Muppets. (Don't wear red seems to be the answer.) He was taking me through potential colors on the phone and my mom was in the background screaming, “YELLOW!!!” Wear YELLOW!” After a few minutes the guy said, “Do you want to wear yellow but don't want to mention it for some reason?” I told him my mom was being nosy.

All weekend, all over St. Louis, I saw lesbians. You cannot throw a can of Budweiser without hitting a lesbian and they all drive Subaru Outbacks. Besides seeing lesbians, I didn't do a hell of a lot. I basically ate like a champ and wandered aimlessly around town. Every time I brought up going to the Galleria, Em told me it was going to be a
zoo
and to avoid it at
all costs
. Well, I went twice and it was fine. She likes hype. I got my rings cleaned, which tells you how busy I am here. I ate some Provel cheese on a pizza. Oh my God, that stuff is so good. Actually it's disgusting and so am I.

I went to a benefit called “Guns and Hoses” for families of fallen cops and firefighters during which cops and firefighters box each other. I went with Kari and met Jim Edmonds there, and they set us up ringside. It's a huge event—thousands of people at the place where the St. Louis Blues play. I was looking through the program of cops and firefighters like it was a husband catalog. I was literally circling my picks, waiting for my fights. The announcer brought me into the ring to introduce me in front of those thousands of people and said, “Actually, we could really use you to kill some time between fights,” and just handed me a microphone. WTF. So I just wished everyone Happy Hanukkah, which I thought was hilarious, but may have been lost on the crowd. I took pictures with a lot of (lesbian) cops and firefighters but unfortunately didn't meet my match. Afterwards we went to Jim Edmonds's new bar. It was full of fuzz and firefighters—lots of beards—but none on my team. I've always loved going out the night before Thanksgiving.

I spent all Thanksgiving morning watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade while my dad hammered me with questions about specifics of the parade, such as “How much does it cost to put on this parade, Andy? How many people are there?” “HE DOESN'T KNOW THE STATS, LOU!” Mom chimed in. She had other things on her mind, primarily to RAGE at the mustaches and beards that Al and Matt were sporting for Movember. My dad loooves Savannah but any attempt to talk about her was interrupted with “Well, she's NOT HAPPY sitting next to that HAIR!”

I sent a tweet—“@Andy: This Thanksgiving I am grateful that
Spider-Man the Musical
is finally closing!” And that upset tweeps because it means a lot of people are losing their jobs. Calm down, people. Jesus, you can't say one word about anything these days without offending someone. (And that show was the worst!) I wanted to tweet more but no one has a sense of humor anymore and half of what I'd say was slamming the parade and the promotion and I don't want to get fired from NBCUniversal. We also watched the dog show for the first time ever. I miss Wacha. When have I ever watched a dog show?

Em invited her neighbors to our family Thanksgiving and everyone was on their best behavior. We all realized we should always invite strangers. Nobody chewed each other's face off.

I ate so much starch and fatty foods all weekend and have now reaffirmed my vow to go alcohol-free in January. I even texted Will and told him, which makes me accountable.

Now I can spend all of December eating and drinking!

 

WINTER

IN WHICH …

•
I BOMB ON
LETTERMAN
,

•
CAVORT IN BRAZIL,

•
TRY TO NOT DRINK AND TO NOT BE FAT,

•
OFFEND BARBARA WALTERS ON LIVE TV,

•
AND SHOOT A LADY GAGA VIDEO.

 

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2013—ST. LOUIS–NYC

The whole time I was away I was thinking about how much I missed Wacha and I couldn't wait to be reunited with him. But after all the buildup, it was a quietly emo reunion. We had a long, dramatic hug but it wasn't a jumping and freaking-out moment. Then later on I let him lick my face for what felt like half an hour. I took him out and he did something to piss me off and we had a fight. So that was a lot to come home to.

Liza Instagrammed a picture from that Madonna exhibit downtown, and now I'm hoping she didn't buy Bruce and me that book of photos from the show for Christmas. It's Madonna in the early eighties. I have one here for Bruce and one for Grac. I have a feeling we're all going to be giving it to each other.

Cynthia Bailey and Sandra Bernhard were on tonight. Sandra caught me in a big yawn during the show. Is it normal for a talk-show host to yawn during his own show? My suit was too tight and it constricted my breathing. I am fatter than ever! One month more of drinking.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2013

Everything and nothing is going on today: Wacha's hips are hurting him, I almost puked at the gym, and Mama Joyce has been trending on Twitter for eighteen hours.

I was emailing with Sandra Bernhard, encouraging her to reach out to David Letterman because she seems to be banned from his show again and so I told her to just email him or send him a note and say you miss him. So we'll see how that works out. I want to see them together again, as a fan.

Took a cab to the Upper East Side to have Hanukkah with Grac and her kids. It was a half hour each way in the cab and fifty dollars when it was all said and done. So that's insane and maybe de Blasio is right. Who the hell can afford this mess? Grac got me the Madonna book(!) and purple toilet paper. I never considered purple toilet paper a contender for a gift, but now that I have it, I'm wondering why we're not all giving
that
to each other.

Lisa Whelchel and Kim Richards were on the show. All day on Twitter people were saying that Lisa hates gay people and is very Christian, so I decided to in turn be Christian and forgive her with open, celebratory arms. She looks great. Blair!

There was a drunk woman at the show who kept screaming at me, “Don't you remember me?” And somehow she got past “security” (our PA Mike) and was getting her picture taken with me after the show. (I take pictures every night with folks who buy tickets in charity auctions. So far we've raised over $700,000!) She rather belligerently asked why I didn't remember her from the
Sex and the City
movie premiere (I looked it up, that happened in
2008
), when apparently she had told me that if I ever do a
Housewives of Greenwich, CT
she should be in it, so I said, “Oh
yes
!!!
I totally
remember you.” That shut her up for a half second. Then she reappeared because she didn't like her picture (it's the nutbags who always demand a retake) and I said—I thought under my breath—“Oh, the drunk lady wants another picture.” She slurred, “I'm not
that
drunk,” and I'm like, “OK.”

The poll question was: Who's the top dog in Beverly Hills? And both Giggy and Rumpy Pumpy lost because Kim was there and campaigning for Kingsley, so I will be hearing from Lisa. (If Wacha lost such a contest I would never leave my apartment.) And in the meantime Patti Stanger is on Wednesday with Robin Quivers and Patti is saying that she
has
to sit next to me. (There are exactly five Bravo stars who have a thing about sitting next to me.) We told her no because Robin has never been on and we usually like someone with a very strong personality in the far seat so they don't get lost. I'm sure we haven't heard the end of this.