Andy Cohen, Bravo network's executive blogging yenta, packed more starfuckery action into a single Emmy weekend than most of his peers manage in an entire awards season. Bucking the conventional wisdom that a couple can't bestow upon itself an annoying, hybrid nickname, "Brandy" (Andy + goyische manlover Bruce) dressed up to the nines in spiffy tuxedos and patent leather Gucci flip-flops, then shuffled from ceremony to soirees, later using a handy trail of dropped names and air kisses to find their way back. Some highlights:
Brandy drove aimlessly from there and wound up crashing the home of a sitcom superstar, demanded that he provide us with swimtrunks and beers, and instigated a full-on pool party [...]
On our way out [of the NBC's Emmy Nominees party at Spago], we ran smack into Nina Garcia and there were kisses flying everywhere. [...]
At the Entertainment Weekly party...we noticed that Lindsay Lohan was huddled next to us with a pal...I didn't see no blowcaine. [...]
I met another Andy Cohen. This one is a movie producer. There's also an Andy Cohen who is an agent at ICM and another who is a mustachioed spiritual advisor. It's always fun and weird to meet another Andy Cohen. We are both at war and at peace.
The next night's Emmys speak for themselves...I was transfixed by Jeremy Piven's hair system (pulleys n' plugs?), Nina was agape and agog at the ascot.
We're not entirely sure what Cohen is referring to by "pulleys n' plugs"—we pictured a Rube Goldberg-esque contraption that culminates in a four-slice toaster causing a watering can full or Rogaine to tip over and replenish Jeremy Piven's scalp—but we find ourselves nevertheless transfixed by Andy's all-access anecdotes. We can only hope Brandy managed to avoid the blowcaine, and instead wound down from a successful Emmy weekend with some nice potijuana and the hotel spacuzzi.