The Andy Cohen Diaries (11 page)

Glamour
editor Cindi Leive called to see if I would marry a lesbian couple onstage at their Women of the Year Awards on Monday night. I pointed out that with Gaga and Streisand as witnesses, this will be the gayest wedding on the planet. So that's happening next week. They just have to find a couple now. (Idea first, execution later—exactly how we do it at
WWHL
!)

Lynn's in town from San Francisco and tonight I took her to see Kathy Griffin at Carnegie Hall. The people sitting next to us talked the
entire time
. At one point the guy was on his
phone
, in
Carnegie Hall
, and Lynn, my protector since our days at CBS News, would not let me say anything. She was trying to save me from making a messy public scene. It took all my strength to follow her orders but I did. After the show, Anderson hosted a little party for Kathy downstairs at Trattoria Dell'Arte. I was at the bar and this woman turns to me and said, “I thought I recognized your voice. You were sitting next to me.” It was the chatty couple!

And I said, “Were you forced to come tonight? Are you a relative of Kathy's? Do you work with her?” They said no, no, and no; and I said, “You seemed like you didn't like it, because you talked through the whole show.” She said, “
That's what we do
. We talk during movies and we talk during shows.” I said, “Oh,
that's what you do.
” And then turned away. That's what they
do
!?!?! Here's what
I do
: turn away from people who talk at Carnegie Hall.

Kathy was grateful Kathy (versus any other kind of Kathy you might come across). She was very thankful to me for all the Bravo comedy specials she's done, because now she's done more comedy specials than any other female comedian (grateful and proud Kathy). Truthfully I had little to do with it but I said, “You're welcome,” because I have
manners.
Gloria Steinem was there looking Santa Fe chic and ageless.

After the party Liza and I dropped Lynn at her hotel and meandered down Fifty-seventh Street looking at Christmas decorations. I found an incredible tree in the window of Lee's Art Shop that simulates snow falling. We need it for the Clubhouse. On the way home I sent a drunk tweet in the back of a speeding cab, referencing a parallel Dodi/Diana situation, which people were quickly and loudly offended by. Sixteen years later it's too soon, huh? I deleted it, which I never do. Deleting a tweet is an admission of guilt, but I wasn't going to endure a shitstorm of abuse for a Dodi and Diana tweet. As far as I was concerned, the biggest crime of the night was not my tweet, but that rude couple at Carnegie Hall. I got home and watched Wacha chew on a bone in my lap for forty-five minutes. By candlelight, listening to music. Very romantic.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 2013

I'm in love with my dog. We had the best nap ever today. It turns out that I have a better chance of having a long-term relationship with him than with a person, because everything I say goes. The dog trainer came. Wacha is so receptive to learning, but I had to stop myself from tuning out a few times. I'm sitting there telling myself, “This guy's here to
help me
, don't tune him out.” This tuning out of people who are trying to help me is an ongoing problem.

Went to James Wilkie Broderick's eleventh birthday party, which featured one of those ladies in a high ponytail whose job it is to hype up the kids and completely freak out the parents' friends. She was a pro. A nutbag, but a pro. SJP was too busy taking photos to notice. Any comparison that I had begun to make in the last month between having a dog and having a kid was erased after five minutes in the party. Lots of energy in every direction. There were no cabs, since it suddenly gets dark and crazy at 3 p.m., so I took a pedicab home. I negotiated him down to forty bucks from Fifty-fifth and Seventh. Even though that's an obscene amount, I felt victorious. I did tell him to stop singing at one point because it was impeding my enjoyment of the ride. I had a coffee date with this guy who I'd met on Fire Island who is alternately amazing looking and then, when he smiles, a psychopath. Probably not going anywhere.

I went with Bruce to a dinner for Giancarlo Giammetti at Sotheby's. I think he and Valentino have been honored at dinners every night for the last nine years, and I'm all for taking part. I sat next to Charlene Shorto de Ganay, who I am
obsessed
with and immediately started following on Instagram at the table—she's chic, gorgeous, sweet, and super jet set—and across from Mike Ovitz, who was on and off his phone all night. I'd eaten pot candy on the way to the dinner and it really improved the quality of the night, as it always does. I had a nice chat with Marc Jacobs about Neville. Marc said there's a private dog run somewhere in the West Village that's run by a nutbag (of course it would be run by a nutbag) and that the application process is brutal. A private dog run in my neighborhood!? I need to find out more. At one point during the meal I went to the bathroom and one of the model waiters was in there just loitering by the mirror and he told me he was “taking a break,” which I loved. So I took a break with him. We took selfies in the mirror. It was like an episode of
Vanderpump Rules
.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 2013

I took John Hill to the Knicks day game and we did the celeb thing where beforehand you go up to the owner's dining room and it's an endless buffet. John correctly compared the experience to being in Panem in
Hunger Games
. We saw the Grubmans and the Azoffs. I tried to get some good Diana Ross stories out of the Azoffs. We sat behind Nelly and Larry David, who were not together. They put me on the Jumbotron and wrote “Actor” under my name and I was welcomed with a smattering of boos. The Knicks lost.

I had dinner with Jimmy and Nancy Fallon at some Japanese place called Hane, which reminds me of the way Roseanne Roseannadanna said Jane Curtin's name when she was on “Weekend Update.” There was a lot of late-night-TV talk, which at the end of the day is my fave kinda talk.

On my show I had Porsha Stewart and Nelly. I love Nelly. I feel like Nelly could run for President. He's smiley and approachable and lovable. And he lets me wear his jewelry. I was trying to set Porsha up with him. He ended up inviting her to some party he was doing after the show. I don't know what happened there but it made me happy to think there was a possibility.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 2013

I found out Nelly has a serious girlfriend, so my match wasn't a match. Tonight was the
Glamour
Women of the Year Awards. I'd hosted last year and my parents came and loved it. So we repeated this year, which coincidentally fell on Dad's birthday. When we sat down, a debate erupted about whether our seats were crappy or not. We were in the fourth row, by the way. Then Streisand got seated across the aisle, which of course made them the best seats ever. I just wanted to watch Barbra watch the show. She looks great. And weirdly, her ass looks great. Gaga I think was dressed as “the dead.” Speaking of which, my dad was wearing a suit I bought him last year that my mom refers to as “the Box Suit” because she is assuming that it will be the suit he will be wearing in his casket, which of course is incredibly upsetting to me, but they seem to think is hilarious. Happy Birthday, Dad!

The awards were very uplifting—sometimes things like this can actually be inspiring. Melinda Gates, Malala, a teacher from Sandy Hook (incredibly upsetting), and Streisand were honored. Hillary Clinton spoke. They nixed the onstage wedding in favor of me doing a tribute to women who had been responsible for the legalization of gay marriage, and it was lovely. I talked to Seth Meyers backstage about his show and about Gaga hosting
SNL
this weekend. Katie Couric was backstage getting pictures with everybody. Oh, and the kids from PS 22 performed—the kids' choir who I mistakenly gave my real opinion of on
Morning Joe
and was subsequently lynched by the media. I feel like their goal in life is to terrorize me, and guess what? I'll say it again.
I didn't think they were great
. Sue me. Hang me.

We stopped by the party at the Oak Room and I wanted to tell Gaga that we made perfume out of her pee, and I wound up in a three-way convo with her and Malala. And watching those two try to communicate was to me funnier than anything I bet I'll see her do on
SNL
, Malala in her drag and Gaga looking like the undead. Malala asked Gaga who made her clothes and then Gaga, in her baby voice, did a ten-minute soliloquy about her little monsters and the youth, which I think was lost on both Malala and me (maybe I am too old?), and I was getting very impatient because I had a live show and
really
wanted to tell her about the pee-fume before I left. I was waiting and waiting for an opening but finally I just interrupted her and told her. Gaga loved it. And Malala
definitely
was confused. I took a quick selfie with Gaga and then ran to the show.

Brandi Glanville and Mark Consuelos were on. Brandi had her tits out, flirting with my father, in front of my mother, who kept tooting her horn from behind the bar. On the after show, Brandi said, in front of my parents and the world, that she heard that Miami Housewife Joanna Krupa's pussy smells horrible. Mark fell off his chair, my mom blew her horn, my dad was agog, and I couldn't stop laughing. My poor parents.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 2013

Wacha pooped inside. It was very traumatic. He had been sitting in front of the door, which meant he had to go. I made the executive decision to give him a bath instead of taking him out. He made the executive decision an hour later to poop on the bath mat.

Today Gaga tweeted, “So @Andy told me they made perfume out of my pee from the trash in
WWHL
dressing room (long story) U HAVE BEEN WARNED IF HE TRIES TO SPRITZ U.” And the Brandi allegation about Joanna Krupa's pussy is getting picked up everywhere. This is the world we live in and I am feeding the beast.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 2013

I woke up early. I “listened” to Wacha's cues—he sat in front of the door three times, and I took him out each time and he went each time. I need to listen to this dog!

Today the
Times
ran their piece about my deal, and I was expecting more from it. You always expect more when something is being written about you, because to you it's a big deal and you overthink what a big deal it will appear to be to others. And I've been working on it for months and months. But it's not a big deal. Maybe if you're Ryan Seacrest, the news comes out and it's a big deal. I'm not Ryan Seacrest and maybe I'm just not a big deal!

After the announcement went out I realized, “OMG, I have this company now,” so I called Daryn in and told her it was her and me against the world, and we need to get @MostTalkative and
Mosttalkative.com
. Idiot me had not even given this production company plan any detailed thought.
Mosttalkative.com
is owned by Holt, all about my book, which is fine, and then the Twitter is some girl in Palampur. So I told Daryn, you need to make a list of everything you would do if you were starting a company, OK? And I named her Chief Creative Officer. She's twenty-five years old. I know how to produce TV shows like I know how to talk, but I am backing into running this production company and learning as I go.

I hosted the Emery Awards for the Hetrick-Martin Institute at Cipriani tonight. Doing an event like that is tricky. The charity really needs someone to get up there and MC the night, but on the other hand it's a thankless job. Two thousand people talking and you have to be the guy who reads every item in the gift bag to fulfill sponsor obligations. But I saw a lot of friends and talked to even more people with bad breath. The amount of people who don't maintain their breath is staggering. It makes me think they have a belly full of raw fish and spoiled meat. I saw Chelsea Clinton, so that's two Clintons in one week. Didn't smell her breath.

I got a haircut in my dressing room before my show, and as I sat there, out of nowhere felt this huge weight had lifted because of the deal being announced. I let out a literal deep sigh of relief. My parents came to the show. They had been representing me at opening night of
Stars of David.
It's a new off-Broadway musical where each song is the story of a famous person's relationship with Judaism. I put them in matching Mazel hoodies and they did a shotski with me. I was full of gratitude for them tonight, how lucky am I to have parents who can share in this weird existence with me—not all parents are like them. After the show, Hickey, back from LA, came over and finally met Wacha and loved him. We got very drunk and watched Madonna concert videos.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 2013

Today I had lunch at Rosemary's with my parents after they met Wacha. My mom stresses people out inadvertently. And animals. She puts out a lot of energy and made my non-hyper dog a little hyper. She had him on high alert, which then had her on high alert.

Then Carole Radziwill texted me saying she would love some doggy time and she came over and got Wacha and they went to SoHo, which he needed after his visit with my mom.

Someone leaked a story to Radar Online that I was actually fired or pushed out. I'm pretty sure it was a former Househusband. Radar will print anything.

I had two-hour drinks with Bonnie Hammer at the Monkey Bar. We talked about business mainly, but then got deep about animals and love.

Terrence Howard was on my show with Nia Long. They told us not to give him any liquor. When I walked into the Clubhouse, he was drinking out of a bottle of Jameson. We had the following conversation during the break:

TERRENCE: How many dimensions are you?

ANDY: What?

T: How many dimensions are you?