Free The Andy Cohen Diaries by Andy Cohen Page B

BuzzFeed, and TMZ simply said I was “Digging for Gold!” so that’s a little more respectable. No one was mentioning how cute my new dog is, which killed me.
    I worked out with Will today. I told him he should release a CD called “Jews Working Out” that is just me sighing, groaning, and grunting, usually in response to what I have to do and not what I’m actually doing. All day everybody was tweeting me the picture of me picking my nose. People want to make damn sure I’ve seen it. I wanted to tweet, “I saw it, motherfuckers.” But I thought better of it.
    We had Amy Sedaris on tonight. She went through Lea Black’s purse. It took at least a minute but it was hilarious. Doing this show has made me think of everything in terms of how long it takes. I walk around all day hearing Deirdre’s calm voice in my ear counting down the time. I’m ordering my tea thinking “Can I get this done in:45?” Amy is so funny—the funniest person I’ve ever met. And yet all I could think about was my dog. I made the Internet the Jackhole for not noticing how cute my dog is.
    TUESDAY, OCTOBER 22, 2013
    Today was commitment D-day. I’ve been getting tweets from people saying, “What’s the deal? Post a photo of your dog!” But I realized that the minute I sent out a tweet with the picture, there was no turning back. I sat there looking at Wacha all morning, trying to decide whether to tweet his picture. I knew I wasn’t going to give him back, but this final act would make it so official . I decided I had to take the perfect picture of the dog to Instagram; in front of Bonsignour, I became the Scavullo of dog photographers, working almost an hour on the perfect picture. I got the picture and then freaked out about the tweet—no turning back, connected for life—and I waited till the end of the day. With a pit in my stomach, I did it.
    It turns out I have a very popular dog. I posted his photo on Instagram and got thirty-six thousand responses. And then it really sunk in that he had been in a kill shelter. This dog, my dog , was in line to be killed . That kills me . I love him so much already. The idea that this dog is one day going to die made me teary on the way to the gym yesterday. Now today I’m getting teary thinking of him in a kill shelter. (I also could cry thinking of him in West Virginia, but that’s me being a snob.) And I will never, ever get over how good he looks on my couch. Some celebrity dog trainer emailed Daryn wondering if “Andy wants my services?” He’s coming over for free.
    I was thinking about when am I going to get him groomed and about his new vet, dog walker, and his food and toys and the mechanics of it all, and it reaffirmed that if I had to spend one more day only thinking about nothing but myself, I would have set myself on fire. I am at the tipping point of boring myself by thinking about myself. Thank God this dog is here.
    WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 23, 2013
    I think I had a nice photo session with Wacha and five paparazzi this morning as I was waiting for Joe Mantello in front of Starbucks. They actually asked if they could take pictures with Wacha. I said, “Yes, but only nice photos, guys.” Meanwhile, I’m in glasses and my hair looks crazy, so I know how this is gonna play out. Someone on the street said his paws are really big, and that he’s gonna grow huge, and now I’m terrified. I don’t want him to grow any bigger. By the way, yesterday I get a tweet from @WachaCohen—a stranger has started tweeting as Wacha—and it said, “You forgot to leave the TV on. I wanted to watch your show.” And then this morning I got one that said, “Wake up and get in here and take me out. I have to pee,” which played into me thinking I always need to take him out and was kind of freaky. Who is tweeting as my dog and where is this person hiding?
    I was at 30 Rock all