The Andy Cohen Diaries (5 page)

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 3, 2013

I woke up to a bunch of tweets saying
Good Morning America
is ripping off your Panda Cam gag. So that put me in a foul mood, although I don't know if we were the first anyway. It does seem like someone at
GMA
is watching our show, because I get tweets all the time from people saying they're ripping off our bits. It's one thing for my show to be as stupid as it is, but that show (produced by ABC News) has turned into a dumber version of
Entertainment Tonight
. And people love it, so the joke is on America. Ha!

Zarena, the lady from See Spot Rescued, came by and interviewed me and did an “apartment inspection.” Oh, and did I mention she needs
three
references? Halfway through I thought maybe she misinterpreted me and thought I was adopting a
kid
, but no, it's all about a dog. We talked a lot about dog psychology, where to put his crate, and on and on. And I have to feed it. Oh Lord. I hope he likes takeout. But I decided that I am just meeting him, I don't have to walk out with him. I made that very clear to her, too.

In the cab to work, we were stuck on the left side of Sixth Avenue and the traffic seemed to be moving well in the right two lanes, which was making me crazy. I couldn't contain myself. I finally said to the guy, “Can you get in the right lane?” And he started going off on how
broken
America is and
nothing
could fix it, and then he wouldn't get in the right lane. I was sitting there wondering if somehow in his mind the right wing, or the right side of the government, was screwing things up, which he was correlating to changing into the right lane. Whatever the reason was, he would not change lanes. I was beside myself. When we pulled up to 30 Rock, I said, “Not for nothing, America may be broken but I do think we would've gotten here faster in the right lane.”

I had a frustrating conference call with our
WWHL
bookers today. There is a mind-numbing pecking order among talk shows, meaning that each has a rule about which others they will and will not “follow.” You can't book a guest on us, for example, before that person goes on
Letterman
.
Letterman
won't allow it. But shows that used to be fine following us will no longer, and are making publicists cancel appearances on us in order to preserve bookings on bigger shows. And these bookers are trashing us. On the one hand they are saying we're an inconsequential little show, and on the other they're upset about us going first. It's ultimately a symptom of the show doing well, but booking is a maddening process.

Tonight I had dinner with Bruce and Bryan and little Ava. Bruce said the lady from the rescue place was intensely thorough on his reference interview. I wanna make my goddaughter my dog's godmother—does that work? Ava seems into it. Then we went to that FroYo place where you weigh your yogurt. I don't usually go to FroYo but I might need to start: FroYo is fun! Plus it was a celebration, because with Bryan's (and CAA's) help, my deal closed today, so after almost two years of running development at Bravo and simultaneously hosting
WWHL
five nights a week, and nine months of negotiation, this is finally happening. It's a new deal for my show with a two-year pickup, and also I'm starting a production company with a first-look deal with Bravo/NBCUniversal. Plus I'm staying as an EP of all the
Housewives
and continuing to host specials on Bravo. In three months, I'll no longer be an executive at Bravo. Now watch me become the low-rent, Jewish, now-fat-and-old, almost-past-his-prime, with-a-more-nasty-personality version of Ryan Seacrest.

Maybe out of frustration or anxiety, I keep going to YouTube and binge-watching Britney Spears videos. Tonight I ate maybe two pounds of candy in bed and watched pieces of the “Femme Fatal” tour. It's an eighty-something-minute study on how to create the illusion that Brit is dancing. It's so funny. They are all dancing
around
her, and she's someplace else. She walks like a hologram. I just want Britney to be Britney. Our idea of Britney. But the truth is, I think Britney has left the building. After watching all of her videos, I can tell you she doesn't dance. She just walks, flips her hair, cracks a whip. It's crazy. I ate so much candy. It's like I'm trying to bulk up.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 2013

I FaceTimed with Anderson today—his first FaceTime ever. He was in a chatty mood, which doesn't always happen, and we had a good, gossipy session. I wish it could have been televised. He and I broke it down, then reverted to a common refrain, how bored we both are. Both of us lead pretty exciting lives, but on any given day you'll find one of us texting the other that we are bored out of our minds. I still have that childhood affliction characterized by walking into the kitchen when my mom was cooking dinner and telling her, “I'm
bored.
” I guess it happens to the best of us. Maybe that's why we do the jobs we do. I watched the afternoon Cardinals game with Matthew Broderick at the bar at Riviera on Seventh Avenue. We won. I have playoff fever. That's a good place to watch a game.

I buried the headline. The big news is I killed a bug tonight. The booze helped give me strength. I started the night at Kelly's birthday at Indochine. After dinner we went to Club 8 and the ten of us were the only ones there. It ended up filling up and we danced. We stumbled toward home and into that new Sultan's Pizza joint around the corner from me at two in the morning. Bruce was giving advice to the owner about how to run a restaurant. Everything he told him was right, too. They are doing everything wrong at this place—the lighting is bad, the prices are too cheap (a buck per slice), and they have a bad attitude. Oh, and the pizza isn't so great unless you're drunk or desperate. This joint is not going to make it, mark my words. That guy should've listened to the King of the Palm Restaurant, but he didn't know whom he was talking to.

Back to the bug. In the haze of the night, I discovered a beetle was on my soap tray. It wasn't lion sized, but still. So I got the Raid, tiptoed into the bathroom, aimed my shaking but incredibly masculine and brave hands at the bear cub, and sprayed and killed it. I threw the soap out and the bug is still under my sink, dead. There is no way in hell I'm picking it up. I'm gonna leave it till Wednesday, when my housekeeper comes. I'm not alone on an island with the bug thing, right?

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 5, 2013

I didn't leave my house all day. I did absolutely nothing until I went out to see
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
at the New York Film Festival with Bruce, Bryan, and John Hill; I went with the movie and thoroughly enjoyed it. I talked to Kristen Wiig a little bit at the after party. It was one of those times when I love someone so much and am such a fan that I am too nervous to think of anything to say. My personality erases itself. Richard LaGravenese, the great screenwriter, came over to me, said he loves my show, and was very nice, but we got interrupted. Ten minutes later I turned to him and asked where he lives and he said Tribeca and I said, “Oh, that's where my studio is,” and he replied, “What's your studio for? What do you do?” And I tell him, “My show,” and I realized I wasn't speaking to LaGravanese anymore. I'd resumed the conversation with a stranger who had the same kind of glasses. The same guy came up to me fifteen minutes later and says, “I am so embarrassed. I know who you are.” And I go, “Well, I am embarrassed. I don't know who you are and I thought I was talking to someone else.” So we were even. We split the Hudson and went to Atlas, where some guy came up to me and said, “I'm not coming up to you because of
who
you are, I'm coming up to you because of
what
you are, which is sexy.” That's a pretty good line but that was as far as that went.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 6, 2013

The dog Ron Swanson has some kind of ringworm, so I didn't get to meet him this weekend. Gross. He'll be here in a week or two. I keep walking around my house wondering what it will be like to have a little doggy following me around. Will he follow me around? What is a dog going to do in this apartment to occupy his time all day anyway? I saw Kathy and Rich Wakile tonight at the show and Rich kept making jokes about me throwing them away in the trash, because Kathy isn't going to be a “full” Housewife this season. I explained to Kathy that I couldn't put her in the show open because it would cause big problems with other Housewives. Everybody wants to be in the show open.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2013

Apropos of last night, today I had a long phone conversation with Countess LuAnn, who had hoped to be in the opening titles on
RHONY.
In fairness to her she is an original Housewife, but she is a “recurring” character this season. I had to tell her that although she's all over the show, she doesn't have her own storyline. She's not a happy Countess. So that was a fun conversation to have. Not. (Yes, I am now quoting
Truth or Dare–
era Madonna.) The upside of all this is that it's the Countess's best season. Meanwhile Carole Radziwill sent a long list of intro lines for herself that all break the fourth wall, like “Last year I was the fan favorite; I can't wait to see how you fuck me over this year.” Or, “I used to think this show was fiction.…” But you can't say “this show” in the intro.

I had dinner at Grac's with Neal and both of her kids. I haven't seen her in forever and I was so happy to be able to hang with Marley and Sam, which is like being in the middle of a fun tornado. (A fun-nado? Could that become a thing?) After twenty-five years, Grac and I have the ability to click into a groove for whatever time we are together and just reconnect, fast. Neal says dinner at their place is like being inside a popcorn maker. They're crazy-hilarious. Marley can play guitar. I can't play anything.

The Cardinals game was amazing, of course. With their backs against the wall they rallied. Winning the World Series this season is their destiny.

Another two-hour massage after the show. Total luxury. Again I lay there wondering what the fuck that dog is going to do while I get a massage. Sleep? Watch? Bark?

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 8, 2013

Before the show I had dinner with Amanda at Waverly. Seeing her was just what I needed, a quick therapy session. The guy sitting at the table next to us was a total douchebag, an older guy with a ponytail and young girls kind of giggling at his awful stories. He was disgusting. Carter Oosterhouse was there. He's so handsome, he looks just like Superman. We told each other that the other was “killing it” like three times, which I think is what you're supposed to say to straight famous people. (Seacrest says that every time I see him.) There's a waiter there who's really hot who's straight and married but he flirts with every gay guy and makes them think they have a chance with him, but since I found out that I'm not the only one he flirts with I decided I'm done. I mean, I've been through such a roller coaster in my mind with this guy, so now I ignore him. But tonight he ignored
me
! I got furious.
I
would rather be doing the ignoring.

Connie Britton is everything you want her to be. Perfect. She was on the show with Zach Quinto. And I got to act out a scene from
Friday Night Lights
with her, which was
amazing
. I actually think I was pretty good as Coach Eric Taylor. I committed. She seemed impressed. Elisabeth Moss came with her and walked onto the show to give the gifts. She was our Vanna White. She is so sweet. And a Bravo fanatic. Zach wanted to go out, so we all went to Industry after. I had way too many Maker's-and-gingers. On my way (stumbling?) out, some guy came up to me and wanted to give me his number but I was only half committed to taking it, so I flippantly said, “Just tell it to me and I'll remember it.” And he goes, “Are you sure you'll remember?” And I promised, “Yes. I'm
really
good at that. I will
totally
remember.” And now all I can remember is it was a 914 number. So that narrows it down.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 2013

Will is so sick of me looking at my hair while he tries to train me. Liza and I have this thing where we feel like our hair always looks extra great on airplanes (because the air is so dry)—and now the same phenomenon keeps happening to me when I go to the gym. I keep looking at myself in the mirror and I can't get over it, and I'm upset that I have to destroy the hair in the shower when I get home. Sometimes I think Will's going to hit me.

Went to JFK to get my Global Entry. The “security interview” was all of about two minutes and began with the most pressing threat to our nation's safety: “Tell me about Teresa.” That's a broad question. I told him I love her. The TSA guy told me what he felt I needed to know about
Jersey Housewives
and now I can go in the fast lane at security and customs worldwide. Unless this guy starts hating Teresa—then I bet he could go into my account and fuck with it.

All day I was a kid before Christmas waiting for the playoff game to start, and of course I had a shoot before the show with the woman whose wedding I'm going to officiate tomorrow on
Watch What Happens Live
and it was me driving her around in this Fiat she will win as part of the wedding contest. It was two hours in a car with this girl I never met, with cars in front of me and beside me shooting us driving through the city, all while I'm losing my mind about not being able to see the game. She's an aesthetician in Atlantic City and a huge Bravo fan. She kept asking, of all my
WWHL
guests, whom I hated. That's all she cared about. I felt like nothing I was saying could satisfy her. I would say a name and she would say, “But who else do you hate?” And I was like, “Well, can I tell you who I like? Does it have to be all about who I hate?” People want to hear the nasty stuff; that includes me, so I don't know why I'm even surprised. But I don't actually
hate
too many people, which seemed to disappoint her. I said Jillian Michaels because she yelled at my staff, but the bride doesn't watch
Biggest Loser
, so she didn't really care about her. Then I said maybe Scott Baio, but he was before her time. I asked her, “Don't you want to know anything about the Housewives? You love Bravo!” I just couldn't impress her with any of my stories. This girl is supposed to be the biggest Bravo fan ever! People kept waving at us, because they put lights in the car so we were very noticeable. She thought everyone was waving at her because they know she's getting married on the show. My brow was furrowed. Her fiancé is very sweet. I made him say his vows to me, and they were very flowery, and he was saying he will try not to cry, and I was like, “No. Try
to
cry.” The whole time I was driving and simultaneously trying to check my Twitter for the game score, so hopefully you won't see that danger on TV.