We drove out to East Hampton today to see Ina Garten.
Bitch was nowhere to be found. She probably heard I was going to be in-town. Frankly, I'm so in love with her, yet so jealous of her that I actually want to dry hump her and ask her to leave Jeffrey, marry me and run away to Paris together. If only I wasn't so fucking jealous of her. I am jealous of her house in the Hamptons, and her television show, and the Barefoot Contessa and all of her millions and millions and millions and millions of dollars and junk & stuff.
The only person I love more, is Barbra Streisand. She won't even return my calls, So rude. And you know they both adore gay men. What am I? Chopped liver?
Ina's home and garden is so stunning that it actually makes me want to gag. Oh sure, she can enjoy her fame & fortune and walks out to her garden to pick peonies and fresh lavender for her morning croissants out there on the beach with the Speilbergs, the Goldbergs and Martha Stewart & all them snots. *Actually I am madly in love with, and jealous of all of them.
We had a nice lunch in Bridge Hampton, calamari friti with a lemon buerre blanc sauce, caesar salad & split an open faced steak sandwich. Looked around a bit and then drove to East Hampton. What a nightmare of a drive out to E.H.
When people say they're going to take a drive out to the Hamptons, they actually mean they're going to take a drive out and out and out and out and out and then a few more miles out and out and then maybe if they're lucky after they've sat in traffic for six hours, and gone another 20 miles, they actually get to: East Hampton. If they're lucky. I imagine you can't even get there in July or August. Over-rated anyway.
So, we looked around a bit, sniffed a bit, Eh. Not what I expected. We did meet Ina Garten's flower guy: Michael. He was arranging flowers in his store. Poor guy, poses for photos and nobody buys from him. I think I know where he gets his snotty attitude from. People must be forever recognizing him, and must make stupid comments... or worse, ask him about Ina because really? Who gives a shit about him? Nobody.
His store is actually in Bridge Hampton, and honestly? Nothing special all though there were some stunning flowers and he was making a gorgeous bouquet. Probabaly for Ina.
Ina, Ina, Ina!
You can imagine people must go in there to see him, all the time, and then walk out after gushing over Ina and not spending a dime in his store. He was nice enough to let me take a photo of him, promised not to shoot below the neck... although I think I got his belly in the shot. I'll post it tomorrow. I know you're all dying to see, right?
He had some gorgeous allium giganteum in the window. I took a few photos. His lover works in the store with him. They've been together for 31 years so I was able to throw it in his face that Tony and I have been together 32. Ha, ha.
On the way out the door, Tony called back to him over his shoulder, "Tell Ina we said hi".
We actually are rather un-impressed with East Hampton. It looks like Rodeo Drive meets the corn fields of Nebraska. Okay, winery winery winery, blah blah blah, fields and vineyards and no water to look at. It's like driving out to Cape Cod. You never actually get to see the water because they put the road right in the midde of it all and the actual scenery driving all that long way out to the Cape is nothing but trees, so that by the time you actually get to Cape Cod after driving eighty or one hundred miles, you're so bored you couldn't give a shit about: Cape Cod.
Cape Cod is a dumpy town, anyway. Crappy stores. A real yawner.
When it comes to The Hamptons, we had small & quaint in mind, and it certainly is not that. It's too overwhelming. The homes where the rich live? Oh my god. Ostentacious doesn't even begin to describe. We're out of here on Sunday... hated it.
Okay, I'm so pissed I could spit nails. If you happen see Ina, please tell her I am madly in love with her. Or, just tell her how much I hate her.