My Dream Man: Andy Cohen
Dreams really do come true. For some, it may be winning the Superbowl, the World Series, finding the cure for cancer, getting to the Oval Office, into Harvard, or making it in Hollywood. For me, a simple “Real Housewife” from Scarsdale, NY, it was finally meeting, one, Andy Cohen.
Let me be more specific. Meeting him would have sufficed. Getting serenaded by the Andy Cohen, well, that just took my dream to a whole new euphoric level. You think I’m kidding? I’m so not.
That’s right folks. The man, the myth, the face of Bravo TV, the host of Watch What Happens Live, and the one who put The Real Housewives franchise on the pop-culture map, serenaded me. Now, do you see why I’ve been walking around on a proverbial cloud 9 for the past week?!
My girl, Viv, actually planted the seed. “You know Shar…I can’t think of anything more perfect than you meeting Andy Cohen and going to WWHL.”
“Me too.” I was now determined to make this dream a reality. So, I went to the only other person I knew who loved Andy just as much, and who was equally tenacious, my partner-in-crime, Kris.
I asked her if she could “help a sister out,” and that’s all it took. She did not stop until our date was confirmed, and our tickets were e-mailed. Of course, I told her that just trying was gift enough, but who are we kidding…I wanted to go to WWHL bad. Really bad. Like, I will “cut-a-bitch” for those tickets bad. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but you get my point.
I was in heaven.
So, on Wednesday, September 12, 2012, Kris and I hit Sushi Seki for dinner, and then the Bravo Clubhouse for some Andy Cohen action. This was all Kris’s 40th Birthday Gift to me. Next year, I’m going to tell her my Birthday dream is to have dinner with Chris Evans (you know, my leading actor choice for Fifty). If she can make that happen, I’ll walk on hot coals singing “Oh Canada” while wearing a Bugs Bunny Costume and blowing bubbles. Just the first thing that popped into my head.
Anyway. This was my Sex in the City night. We tried to work in a “guest appearance” at the Nanette Lepore Fashion Show After Party at The Mondrian, but we were too nervous about being late for Andy, so we skipped it. Decisions, decisions, decisions. Really, what’s a girl to do?
I’m not going to bore you with all the details leading up to the main event, so I’ll just say this; the sushi was great, the cab-ride downtown was painful, we were an hour early to the show, so we hit a charming little neighborhood restaurant called Georgionne where I had the smallest $4.00 Diet Coke imaginable, and by the time we made it back to Bravo my feet were killing me (f’ing YSL heels, but I do love them).
Upon our return, the doorman, Michael, told me I should hang with him becuase Leonardo DiCaprio stops in all the time. I gasped. I don’t know why, I think he’s a great actor, but it’s not like I find him to-die-for gorgeous…I’m really just a celebrity whore. Kris rolled her eyes.
While tapping her fingers on Michael’s desk, Kris asked “So, can we go up now?”
“Yes, you’re good.”
Let the games begin!
We’re about to get onto the elevator. Andy awaits!
We went up in the elevator with a rather large, or dare I say, portly, gentleman, and his very pretty wife. He mentioned that he was doing a “bit” on the show. I told him it was my 40th and he should give me a “shout-out.” He laughed. I took that as a polite “no.”
Our guy, Anthony, who gave us the tickets, greeted us right when we walked in to the lobby. He was tending bar. Kris and I gave him big smooches. The whole pre-show atmosphere is geared to get you loose, happy and excited. They want a lively studio audience for Andy and his celebrity guests. I was ready to get loose.
Kris and I did not love the pink fuzzy drink, which was not pink champagne. Sort of tasted like bad Manischewitz.
We happily listened to N’Sync, took our drinks and waited to go inside. Well, I happily listened, Kris would have rather been watching the show from the comfort of her bed.
It was boy-band night. Kevin Jonas and Lance Bass were Andy’s guests, and you know what? I didn’t care. I love a good boy-band.
However, this was Kris’s nightmare in 3D. Me drinking, humming along to “Bye Bye Bye” while awaiting an evening of boy-band nostalgia. I so owed her. Big. Although, I do have to admit that I secretly love to torture her like this. It’s just too funny to see the pained faces she makes.
“Everybody in the club getting tipsy….”
It was getting close to show-time. Kevin and Lance had already waltzed through the “bar” area once, which caused some minor hysteria. I was getting impatient.
And, then, it was time. We made the long walk through the Bravo TV offices. I had to photograph our trek. I was documenting the evening, after-all. Unfortunately, this momentary lapse in my artistic judgement put us last in line, which, in turn, resulted in us receiving the worst seats in the house. Kris was not happy. Not. Happy.
“You just had to stop and take those pictures,” Kris spat out.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself,” I sheepishly apologized.
“Well, now look at where we’re sitting.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Not that bad. Not. That. Bad. We’re sitting ramrod straight up against the wall in the very back of the room on narrow stools.”
“Well, at least we have seats. And, look…we’re slightly elevated so we’ll be able to look over everyone.”
“This better be a good show,” Kris warned.
“Come on. Let’s just enjoy. We’re together. And, we’re about to see Andy up close and personal.” I knew my excitement would sway her from “the dark side.”
A studio shot from our seats.
And, then it happened. Andy Cohen entered the studio. The Bravo Clubhouse where WWHL is broadcast from, is a very very small studio. There are only about 25 people in the audience. So, it is an intimate setting. Before the show begins, Andy chats his “peeps” up and get’s the party started. When there was a slight lull in the fevered air, and I caught Andy’s eye, I loudly stated, “Andy, it’s my 40th.”
“It’s your 40th? Really?” Andy asked me directly.
“Yep.” That’s all I could come up with at that moment.
Then, Andy broke out into spontaneous song. He started singing along to Carly Ray Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” with his arms extended wide, pointing to me, and changing the lyrics to accommodate a personal Birthday message to me. I was in heaven and smiling so wide I thought my face was going to break.
And, G-d damn-it! I didn’t get any of it on tape. I was too flummoxed. It didn’t help when Kris said, “Did you record that?”
“No, it happened too fast.” But, before I could let the melancholy settle, Kevin Jonas and Lance Bass entered the room.
I did get a side shot of Andy sitting during a commercial break.
Ooooh! And, I got a back shot.
The show started. It was amazing. The largish gentleman, who was in the elevator with us, was the bartender for the night. He was “Merv the Perv” the long-lost Jonas Brother. Oh, how I was jealous. Not, because he was the long-lost Jonas Brother, but because he had the coveted bartender position for the show.
It was truly a jam-packed half-hour show and a great after-show. Kevin and Lance were fan-freaking-tastic. Andy is incredible. He is truly a talent. I’d like to move-in to the Bravo Clubhouse.
At one point, I was so ecstatic, I leaned over to Kris and said, “This is AWESOME.”
She leaned over to me, put her hand on my arm, and in a conspiratorial voice said, “I’m so happy you’re happy, but I’m in HELL right now.”
We had a moment of silence and then I burst out into hysterics.
Once the show was over, I asked Kevin and Lance if I could take a picture with them, since it was my 40th and everything. (I’m totally getting mileage out of this Birthday.) They were both so nice and amazing, and said “Of course” right away. In fact, they made Kris take 2 pics just to ensure I got my shot. Here’s what I got:
That’s Me with Lance Bass. Yay.
Even though my man Andy escaped me, I was okay with it. We had our moment. I mean he sang to me for crying-out-loud. I’m still smiling a week later. And, I swear, if I were a gay Jewish man, I’d be Andy Cohen. No. That’s not right. If I were a gay Jewish man I would MARRY Andy Cohen. Now, that’s right.
But, since I’m only a nice, and sometimes naughty, Jewish girl from Scarsdale, I’ll settle on being his long lost sister. I really do believe he’s my “brotha-from-anotha-motha.” I don’t know if I’m penning that correctly, but whatever. He’s my Boo, and I love him. Never dare to dream my friends, never dare to dream.
What’s your Birthday Dream?