The Andy Cohen Diaries (7 page)

I got an email from the guy at
Glamour
. “We put some stuff back in; I think you'll be happy,” which intrigued me.

They put the Cardinals game on the big screen in the Clubhouse before the show. I had my hat on and had a blast watching with my crew. We won. The same four camera guys—Carlos, Rich, Mark, and Nick—have been with us for the entire run of the show, and I love them. Besides being my man behind Camera 2, Rich has worked for Rachael Ray for five years. He told us that yesterday she said, “Hey, camera guy. Get out of my way.” She is on my show Wednesday night. I'm going to try to test her, because two of my other camera operators also work for her and don't think she knows their names. I am the worst with names, so it was a rocky first year (Deirdre constantly in my ear mocking me) trying to get those guys' names right. You gotta know your crew! Ja Rule was on the show. He was singing to the audience during commercial breaks.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15, 2013

I worked out and thought I was going to puke. I felt whiskey coming out of my pores. I did a run-through at Grand Central Station for this American Made Awards thing that I somehow agreed to co-host tonight with Martha Stewart. There were people everywhere who were overly enthusiastic and seemed in various states of terror of Martha. She would say, “This teleprompter is horrible. Can you see it, Andy?” and I'd say, “If you can't read it, I can't read it!” And then she'd say, “The lighting is terrible. Is it hurting your eyes?” And I'd say, “Whatever is going on with your eyes it's doing to my eyes.” Then, “God, the audio is terrible. You should have been here last year. It was
so
bad. I was so mad, I literally think the audio guy is dead. He's dead. I think I killed him.” And she was laughing, saying, “You wouldn't believe what I did to him.” It's obviously so much more fun being on Martha's side than not. And I was the worst; I just agreed with everything because I didn't have a stake in the fight. I was the guy saying, “No, you get on the train to Dachau. I'm going to stay with Martha. I'm Christian.” Martha tried to teach me to knit backstage with these huge needles and alpaca wool and I was terrified. I felt like I was having sex and I couldn't get hard. Except that knitting is
not
like sex and even the Queen of Crafting couldn't teach me how to do it.

The awards went fine. Martha is trying to do something important, which is promote American small businesses. I ran into Bethenny and Thom Filicia. And I don't know what Christie Brinkley has done to her face, but she still looks like “Uptown Girl” from the video. Perfection. She should win some kind of crafting award for it. I saw Sean Avery there and I made a joke onstage about he and I buying two pairs of matching chaps. Martha didn't know what I was talking about.

Went right from the awards to the show and Sanjay Gupta was on. He was really nervous. His publicist said, “You can be funny with him but don't be silly. He doesn't want to play a silly game.” And we told the publicist that this is quite a silly show, so it was going to be hard to avoid that. She goes, “Just don't make him put a boa on or anything.” So we didn't make him put a boa on, which was disappointing. My director Sarah wore a Dodgers shirt, so I considered sending her directly to the
Rachael Ray
show.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 2013

More Martha today. We were on the
Today
show to promote her awards. It was unclear how I got roped into the appearance, or what exactly I was doing there, so I decided to just try to be funny. I made my erectile-dysfunction knitting joke and it landed with a thud. Matt looked at me like I was nuts. (I don't think he could figure out what I was doing with Martha either.) I said I checked the wrong box on
Match.com
and Martha and I have been dating for six weeks. That got a laugh. It's the first time I've seen the
Today
show in a long time. It was upsetting because they're clearly trying to imitate
Good Morning America
, which is so bad, but number one. The
Today
show is the
Today
show for God's sake! (And I have the right to opine since I gave seven years of my life to the number three morning show.) NBC should just be doing what they do best. Before the segment Martha said to Matt, “Oh, I like the new studio. Orange is the new black.” And he said, “I prefer black.”

I went to this “Giants of Broadcasting” luncheon honoring, among other people, Barry. At the next table were Dan Rather and Bill O'Reilly, so I went over to Dan and he was so sweet. “I'm so proud of you,” he said. Of course hearing him say that made me want to cry, and then he said, “You know, I would love to get coffee with you and just get together and talk and share ideas sometime.
No agenda
on my part.” I couldn't believe this was happening: Dan Rather wants to “share ideas” with me. And I was like, “Oh wow. OK. I think a whiskey would be even better,” and he said, “I would like that.” And I love that he said “
no agenda
.” Hamilton, Michael, Bruce, and I all showed up to see Barry and realized that it was a distinct possibility that maybe he had something more important to do. Hammy was calling his office to get intel. When he did show, his speech was great—he got up and made a joke about how all the people in the room were trying to sue him. Dick Cavett told a great Groucho Marx joke: Marx was once at a terrible dinner party and he said to the hostess, “I've had a wonderful time, but tonight wasn't it.” We kind of all snuck out after Dick Cavett, which was a good thing because I hear it went on for two more hours.

The Cardinals' march to the World Series continues and I'm being tortured by my cable box. The only channel I don't get at Bravo or at home is TBS. I have no clue why. I watched the game at Bravo on my computer, and I've been watching it on my iPad at home, where it's four minutes behind the rest of the world. I'm convinced there's a TBS conspiracy against me. The playoffs is exactly the only time I ever watch that channel.

I went from the morning with Martha to an evening with Rachael Ray, who brought panini for the entire
WWHL
staff, carried by her acolytes/slaves. (Sidenote: Why do all the empresses of cooking have acolytes/slaves around them?) She also brought me a sandwich press/griddle, which is something I didn't even realize I needed, but obviously do. She seemed pretty drunk on red wine and was a total bundle of fun (stained red-wine teeth and all—she's the
real
version of Martha, see?). During a commercial break, I tested her to see if she knew Mark and Rich's names and she did. My faith is restored. I really liked her, actually. For my Jackhole I was going to go off on the government shutdown and I specifically told the guy who bleeps our show (literally there is a guy with a button in a back room) that I would be mouthing the words “fuck” and “shit” so they didn't need to drop sound, and I mouthed the word “fuck” but I got so carried away that I said “shit” aloud. Luckily they caught it. I called Boehner and Obama “queens” and said that they just needed to go scissor it out. That was my big idea. (Maybe I
am
ready to go on Bill Maher. Lemme check w/ Mom on that.)

I have such dog fever. I keep staring at Ron Swanson's picture; I'm meeting him on Friday and can't wait! On the other hand tomorrow's
Miami Housewives
reunion is looming like a storm cloud.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 17, 2013

Adriana freaked out before the reunion taping today because she wasn't sitting next to me. She told the producers, “Just fire me now if I'm not next to Andy.” I love her. Every time I see her she brings me something from Tom Ford. Usually a tie. Today it was a Tom Ford scarf. It makes me so uncomfortable that she's spending her money on me. The women were out of control, as out of control as they could possibly be. And there was so much “evidence”—which I do typically enjoy. Marysol pulled out her computer with a video message from her father in the hospital making a testimonial proving Lea didn't send Elsa flowers. Hmmm. Not sure what that proved.

We finished early and I went to Cafe Cluny to get dinner but walked up to find a crowd in front and lights and a waiter coming out with a plate of food. They were filming
Annie
the movie, and I thought the waiter was feeding Sandy (because now I have dog fever), but it was “Annie” herself the waiter was feeding, that little girl who was nominated for an Oscar. I'm all for boosting Quvenzhané Wallis's career, but does the world need a reboot of
Annie
?

Lisa Marie Presley and CeeLo were on the show, and Lisa Marie Presley was adamant that I not ask about Michael Jackson. I knew it at the time she was booked but I kept thinking, “I'll figure out a way to do it,” and before the show she apparently said to the booker herself,
no
Michael Jackson questions, but somehow the message that she had personally reiterated that didn't get to me. The celebrity doesn't usually say something's off-limits themselves, usually they leave that to a handler. And so the whole show I was ramping up to say something innocuous like “I know that you've talked about the deep stuff with Oprah. I just want to know, do you have a happy memory about Michael Jackson?” But she had this look on her face that was so vulnerable and nervous and she kind of broke my heart, she was hard and soft all at once. She told me right before we went on that mine was the only show she was doing. As the interview went on I started to feel like I couldn't do it, I couldn't ask the question. I was so glad my better self thwarted the heartless shit stirrer because I only found out later that she had specifically said not to. It is eerie looking at her. She is Elvis with a long wig. She is also very Priscilla. I mean, they're her parents. It's not headline news.

I got a two-hour massage after the show, listening to the noise in my apartment and wondering how a dog would feel about it. He's from West Virginia and I'm pretty sure it's not noisy there.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 2013

This morning Fredrik Eklund took me to see models of the new apartments in the building where St. Vincent's Hospital was. I consider myself pretty rich and I can't afford these places. They are four thousand dollars a square foot. Ridiculous. And they're erecting this building on the spot where thousands of people died of AIDS. Perhaps this is a bad idea all around. I felt rage towards the sales rep blithering about how fast everything was selling. They are characterless, I should add, and won't be available till 2016, when the guy said everything will be five thousand a square foot. I told him I wanted to go home to my already nice apartment and open the window and jump out. In a nutshell, this is why New York City is going down the drain. In the meantime I have heard not one word about my neighbor upstairs, which is certainly good news for him. I do not want this man to pass away. I want to make that clear. I would like to duplex my apartment but a
man's life
is not worth it.

I went to Jersey City with John Hill, who has been the driving force behind me opening my heart up to an animal (and given our past, it's ironic), and spent two hours with Ron Swanson, who apparently has been going by the name “Norman Reedus” in his foster home. This is very confusing because Reedus is an actor on
The Walking Dead
, which I also do not watch. (Given how much TV I
do
watch, how is it possible that he was named after characters in two shows I don't?)

The experience was out of body for me—it was too deep almost from the minute I met him. I felt like I was going to poop my pants. Being with Norman/Ron brought up every commitment issue I ever had and I was glad I had my asthma inhaler because I was huffing and puffing on it. I was looking at the animal thinking I was going to spend the
rest of my life
with it. My first reaction was that it was
too much dog
, so much bigger than I thought it was going to be, and it was licking my face like crazy (which I didn't like) and shedding all over (which I definitely didn't like or expect). The dog has a penis that gets hard and pink randomly (like my own, I guess?) and that was very jarring. After ninety minutes in this room just staring at the dog, my face flushed with emotion, John suggested we take him out for a walk around the neighborhood. I should mention that the dog is crate trained, didn't bark once, and was designated “the perfect dog” by John and Zarena, who runs See Spot Rescued.

I told John on the walk that there was no way I could take the dog home. He was just too big and
too much
, basically. John told me we were not leaving New Jersey without the dog. He said he knew
exactly
what I was doing (running away from commitment), and that he was forcing me to take it. As my intended played with other dogs (quite well and cutely) at the dog run, it gave me this
look
that made me feel a little pang of something, I don't know what. So I took him. I'm fostering him, that's the deal I made with Zarena. For two weeks. We will see.

He jumped in my car, went in the backseat, and fell right to sleep. A good sign, I thought. But I also couldn't get over that I had an actual living, breathing
dog
in my new car. I got him home and followed him around my apartment for an hour. I picked up his shit on the sidewalk. I did it all. This was a really big day for me. I've never picked up dog shit. Speaking of which, I DM'd with some Cardinals about today's game and I feel like Miranda waiting for a text message from a guy she saw at the gym, waiting for these guys, and I said to Joe Kelly Jr., “You're killing it.” Because I do think that's what bros say to each other. (See: Seacrest.)

By the end of the night, I decided that this dog without a name is the smartest dog in the world. He's going to make this easy for me. We were sitting down to watch the Cardinals game with the Irish chef and the dog brought me his leash, to tell me he had to pee, and I took him out and he did. It was incredible. I sat there watching packed Busch Stadium cheering for the pitcher Michael Wacha—“WACHA! WACHA! WACHA!” my hometown cheered, and trending on Twitter was “Wacha”—and I realized that my dog had just been named for me by the city of St. Louis. So that's that. He is Wacha. And it kinda sounds like a dog's name, although I can imagine a future explaining that he's not named after Waka Flocka Flame. I can't imagine not keeping him. (Unclear what will happen with the Irish chef.) Did I mention the pooch looks
great
on my couch?