Often authors come into my work, valiantly offering to sign copies of books we have in stock (usually their own). Andy Cohen came in recently in a similar fit of philanthropy. I had seen his guest appearance on Colbert Report days earlier when Sarah and I attended the filming and made some small talk with him about it. After he left, I blurted some vague, offhand comment to a coworker about how I’d like to take Andy Cohen to Bonesville.
Him: He’s a flaming homosexual.
Me: Why are you crushing my dreams?
Him: I’m sorry. I’m just pretending that I’m my mother and you’re me.
The rest of that day was whatever.
