The Andy Cohen Diaries (26 page)

I was meeting and greeting people after the show and a blond woman approached me. She was shaking. “I need to say something to you,” she said with her voice trembling. “I am a very conservative woman. Do you understand? I am
conservative
. I want you to know that you have changed the way I think about a lot of things. I need you to know that. You changed the way I think.” I gave her the biggest hug. I was so happy. She couldn't have said anything better to me.

I ate insane barbeque from Salt Lick—sausage, ribs, chicken, the whole thing.

TUESDAY, MARCH 11, 2014—AUSTIN

It was a beautiful day and I ate three tacos, a piece of pizza, and ice cream. I'm training every day (lots of “Timber”) but also taking advantage of Austin—that's my philosophy and we'll see what kind of a disaster it nets out to when I see the Ninj next week. Sonja performed a “Tex-burlesque” that was a minute and a half in rehearsal and like four minutes on live TV. It was endless and I didn't know how to stop it. I didn't want to offend her by walking in during the middle when I was the one who'd asked her to do it.

We had a wrap party in the front bar of Rain on 4th and a few hours in started to get sick of each other, so we sent Anthony and Chase back into the club to grab some cute people to liven up the joint. I spent a fair amount of time flirting with this really tall, muscular guy. I was on and off with him all night and near the end John Hill whispered in my ear, “Are you enjoying those heels?” at which point I looked down and realized this dude was wearing
sky-high heels
. Not even platform shoes, heels. He became a little less hot after that. (Just a hair.) We went to a smoky after-hours club and danced to early nineties music.

Made two matches on Tinder.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 12, 2014—AUSTIN

We had the day off. It was fantastic. The gang from
WWHL
who stayed behind went to see the Mowgli's, then had dinner at Paul Qui's restaurant, then to a party where Aloe Blacc (“Wake Me Up”) sang and I once again walked into several farts. WTF is going on with the gas at SXSW?? John Hill and I went to see Jay Z and Kanye West—it was really powerful. I only knew 35 percent of the songs but it didn't matter.

THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 2014—AUSTIN–NYC

Woke up to news that there was a bad car crash blocks from where we were last night. A drunk driver. People killed. The whole plane home I was thinking about our promoting drinking so much and I am going to start asking people to not drink and drive at the end of every episode. It's the right thing to do after getting people wasted.

Had two interesting calls in the car home from the airport. The first was a pre-interview for
Fallon
, which I'm doing tomorrow. It wasn't great. I don't feel like I have a thing to talk about and I wasn't particularly funny at all. I don't know how that is going to go my way. I'm racking my brain trying to think of funny things. I flirted with a guy in high heels? I asked Shaq his dick size? The second call was from building management—not Mr. Liebowitz—saying the apartment upstairs was on the market and they'd begun showing it. I asked the price and then I told her I wanted it. We agreed that I'd see it in a few hours, and when I hung up I realized she really didn't get that I was saying that
I want it.
I called her back and said I am buying the place and can close in thirty days and get a mortgage and all the rest. When I got home, I went upstairs to see it with her (I had to pretend I hadn't already because I'd snuck in there when I did see it). It's still a dump but I am buying the space, that's it. Absurdly, there was an item in the
Post
today saying I was looking for $12 million apartments with Fredrik. So that was possibly the worst timing ever for a stupid item to appear, on the very day I make an offer for the apartment. I was about to get my jumbo massage tonight when the phone rang and it was the broker saying they'd accepted my offer. I am so excited. And yet I still have nothing to talk about on
Fallon
tomorrow.

FRIDAY, MARCH 14, 2014—NYC–SAG HARBOR

The Shaq episode aired last night and everybody's talking about the dick question. (And by “everybody” I mean a bunch of shitty entertainment blogs.) As it turns out, I have heard from two people who claim to know that Shaq's dick actually
isn't
so big.

I got picked up at five forty-five this morning to shoot the “Summer by Bravo” spot, for which I was in a
vile
mood, obviously because of my start time. There was a time not too long ago that I could dig into my well of enthusiasm to muster up the energy for dressing as a circus barker and smiling wide in front of a green screen, but I was so tired from the week and I felt like I'd hit my breaking point. Luckily, also there were Padma, Gail, Tom, Fredrik Eklund, James Lipton, and Bevy—so it was a low-drama, mellow crowd. Fredrik referred me to his real estate lawyer, who's going to do the deal for my apartment. We shot a thing where Padma and I get our legs cut off and switched. I really don't care for the circus one bit.

Bruce came to
Fallon
with me; he wanted to be there for my first appearance on the NYC
Tonight Show
and it became something of a full-circle moment for us because Bruce more than anybody has been there for me from the very beginning of my wanting to be on air and then slowly getting on air. He (and Lynn and Liza) gave me notes on every TV interview I gave in the years leading up to
WWHL
getting picked up. His being there made it extra special and fun. The energy backstage was electric; it felt like it does backstage at
SNL—
people racing everywhere, costumes, music, crowds. Janice Huff walked by my dressing room and popped in to say hi. Hearing the Empress of NYC Weather™ tell me
personally
that it was gonna be gorgeous tomorrow but cool down Sunday and perhaps snow again Monday gave me chills (for more than one reason—this winter will not end). Questlove came in too and the three of us took pics together.

I got briefed and nonetheless turned to Bruce and said, “What the hell am I gonna talk about?” When I was finally out there, Jimmy and I just vibed off each other and vamped. He spontaneously suggested at one point that I should go on Tinder, which was hilarious given that I just did a few days ago. He kept me onstage to panel and I couldn't have been happier. His energy is infectious.

I drove out to the Hamptons feeling on top of the world: about the week in Austin, my apartment,
The Tonight Show
, and Wacha. I listened to the Grateful Dead for two hours in the car, and everything felt exactly right.

I got to the house—first time since November (the weekend I realized Wacha's hip was bad and I was fat)—and it was in great shape. Headed to Albert Bianchini's for some cocktails and when I got home watched Wacha chase his own shadow for ten minutes. He is officially dumb. How could I ever think he is smart? Literally he was chasing his shadow. It sure was cute, though.

SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 2014—SAG HARBOR

Today was a new best day ever for Wacha—he keeps topping himself. We woke up and went for a run together by the water, which was great for me because he forced me to go at a good pace and kept looking up at me smiling. Then we had an epic eight-hour hangout with Jimmy and Nancy during which Wacha and Gary Fallon ran and frolicked and then ran and frolicked some more. I ate a jumbo bag of Doritos, then Jimmy made ground beef tacos, then I ate more Doritos. And I drank several Fresquilas. We laughed and listened to music and talked and talked and talked. I wonder if I overstayed my welcome. Would they have kicked me out? It was awesome and I was asleep by eleven. Maybe it was one of my best days ever too.

SUNDAY, MARCH 16, 2014—SAG HARBOR–NYC

We had a lazy drive home from the beach. I Skyped with Mom and Dad and Mom says she shrunk another half inch. She thinks it is humiliating being this height and though she has nothing against little people she is very upset that she is becoming one. Her words.

Lady Gaga's manager came by to show me the “G.U.Y.” video and we shot my reaction to it for a YouTube video. The Housewives look great. I'm in two shots, so it doesn't seem like that big of a deal, but what do I know? I like being there for posterity.

MONDAY, MARCH 17, 2014

After the gym I hosted a panel for hundreds of NBCUniversal ad-sales people. I'd guzzled two bottles of water before going onstage, so the entire hour was a countdown to the bathroom. I thought I was going to pee in the chair. It was a nightmare. The rest of the day was mortgage contracts, the dog trainer, two shows, screening some stuff, and a couple conference calls. My office at
WWHL
is almost done.

I am bored of Tinder.

TUESDAY, MARCH 18, 2014

Today is the fifth anniversary of Tasha's death. I was going through old photos, sending them to mutual friends, looking at the blog I wrote the week she died, clips of her on YouTube, and got really down. I feel like she's missed so much and I miss her so much every day. I can't believe it's been five years. It just doesn't seem possible.

Before the show I took Wacha to Bruce's and of course his doorman gave me his blank stare. How is it that Surfin remembers
everyone
but every day for this man is like Groundhog Day?

When we got home, Wacha started getting out on the wrong floor. The man in the elevator turned to me and said, “He's dumb, but he sure is handsome.” Let it be said that
I
am the only one allowed to call my dog dumb.

Sultan's Pizza on Greenwich Avenue went out of business and I'm not crying over that one. They were mean and stupid. And Nikki—the chattiest lady on my block, who owns Tea and Sympathy and has the 411 on everything and everyone—and I were
convinced
that place was a front for something anyway.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, 2014

I had Wacha dry-cleaned while I was at the gym today and his fur is so soft and shiny. I brought him to Starbucks and the manager finally busted me for bringing the dog in. I've been waiting for someone to tell me it was illegal. I had a good run there for a couple months.

My cab driver to CAA today was Bangladeshi and Adorable, which I believe makes him Bangladorable. I tweeted as much and then wondered whether it was racist in any way. I swear sometimes I do hold my breath after I tweet, wondering, “Is this the one that will get me fired?” I am almost tempted to just tweet something horribly racist or vile or anti-Comcast, just to see how quickly I can destroy my wonderful life. Is that normal? When I was a kid I would fantasize about opening the car door when we were on the highway. I guess it's kind of similar to that. I can't be alone here.

I was pitched two shows today. One is with Mike Darnell and it's based on people telling stories about sleeping with athletes and rock stars—called
I Slept with a Celebrity
. It's an idea whose sleaziness absolutely does not preclude it from becoming a big hit. Worth pursuing if we can find a way to introduce a modicum of taste. We'll develop it together, take it out to networks, and see what happens. No harm, no foul.

I had dinner with Bruce (at Good) before the show and he came and stayed after.

Miss Piggy was on. The puppeteer's arm hurt and so there was a little drama with that, an issue I can't say I've confronted before. Made two Tinder matches with people who are very age inappropriate.

THURSDAY, MARCH 20, 2014

Today was the first day of spring and it was actually finally kind of nice. Kind of.

I met with my tax guy and was on Tinder swiping away while he talked to me about my finances. When will I stop acting like a seventeen-year-old? I am waiting.

We have a week off
WWHL
coming up and I can't decide where to go or what to do. John Mayer invited me to Montana and I also want to go to Miami, but I should also go to Sag Harbor and try to get some work done. As you get older, vacation time can be a little depressing for a single guy.

Had dinner with Bruce and Liza at Catch. Hung Huynh is the chef and brought us out a lot of extra food and I gorged on lobster mac and cheese, which is as amazing as it sounds. Liza's wedding isn't until August but it's ripe for plenty of conversation, which suits me just fine. A fan sent us a round of drinks and came over to tell us she absolutely did not want to speak to us or bother us, she just really wanted to send us a round of drinks, which was so nice. We told the waiter we were all set for drinks, but maybe he did bill our last round to the woman, who then came over and wanted a long discussion about what kind of drinks we had ordered. She kept saying, “It's no big deal, I just want to know.…” It turned into a whole drawn-out thing, which seemed contrary to her original goal.

Enrique Iglesias was on the show and I don't think he had a very good time.

FRIDAY, MARCH 21, 2014—NYC–NEW ORLEANS

Came to New Orleans at the crack of dawn for Dave Serwatka's wedding, which I wouldn't have missed for the world. After all, Dave and I have been
through it
together working at TRIO and then Bravo for years—big life stuff and late nights all over the country on the set of
Top Chef
. My room at Soniat House wasn't ready when I arrived, so I wandered around the French Quarter, where a beautiful guy with huge blue eyes, bulges everywhere, and a southern accent came up to me and asked if I was me. He told me he was a cheerleader for Kentucky and was on his way to meet his gay dads at the gym. I stopped. Wait—
what?
I had a million questions and was intrigued (gay dads?), turned on (the eyes and the body), conflicted (I should be thinking about his dads, not him), and excited (See: the eyes and the body). There was no way I was letting this kid go without a plan to have tea after his gym—I needed some answers to my questions. (I love a backstory!)