The Andy Cohen Diaries (51 page)

I came home to a message from Nancy and Jimmy to meet them at the American Hotel for some end-of-summer caviar. You don't have to ask me twice. Many toasts to the end of the beach season, and we moved on to Sen and some sake. Rashida Jones joined in progress. We all walked to BuddhaBerry, the FroYo craze of the summer of 2014, where they had locked the doors a couple minutes before and the Nordic lady in charge would make no exceptions. We felt defeated—
how can we end the summer without FroYo?!?
As we stood dwelling in our misfortune, a Real Housewife of I don't know where (hell?) approached. She was tall, mid-fifties, fake blonde and fake boobs in a black tank top that said “Never Never Never”—we told her it was closed and she got into a long thing with Jimmy, who is the mayor of everywhere and has the unique ability to talk to anybody anywhere about anything without hitting a wall. (I do not have this gift.) She left and we stayed hanging out like teenagers with nowhere to go, pondering the “Never Never Never” shirt.
What did that mean?
I will never
sleep with you
? I will never
marry you
? (We think she would've gone all the way.…) Twenty minutes later the “Never Never Never” lady returned with a big bag of FroYo (from the inferior place down the street) in her bountiful bosom! We were thrilled—what a gift! It hit the spot, and we stayed laughing and loitering on the empty street for about an hour. Came home and watched old Dick Cavett interviews on YouTube while Wacha endlessly licked my face. Back to the city—and real life—tomorrow.

Dad and I at the US Open—nice photobomb, Martha!

Jim Edmonds, Tony LaRussa, and me at the playoffs—I'm wearing Tony's rings

Nobody seems to want this huge poster of SJP and me!

Ryan, our renaissance PA, with the Pee-fume

My huge office at Bravo, RIP

World Series with my folks

John Hill, Bruce, and me at the
Walter Mitty
premiere

Unclear how I got roped into posing with these birds with Martha at the Today
show

My first Instagram of Wacha

Blurry selfie with Gaga—as the undead—at the Glamour awards

John Hill and Wacha the day we met him—so licky!