Alan Alda doesn't like Nathan Lane

Our friend Rebecca Childs is visiting us this week (yeah, friends!) so today we decided to drive out to see the Hamptons on Eastern Long island.
Now we had never been out that far and we were really excited about seeing this playground of the rich and famous. I know that its more of a summer place, but who knows. Maybe there was some December soiree at Diddys or something.
So first stop on our way there was Amityville to see the town where the Amityville horror thing supposedly went down. The address of the house is unlisted but we drove around in the area where the house would be and boy oh boy is it creepy. There is something inherently creepy about New England, which is why most horror movies are set here. This area of Long Island was founded in the 1640's so there is plenty of town for crazy shit to go down. Especially ax murders. The whole Western part of the town was underwater because of a rain storm the night before. This impeded our exploring some of the neighborhood...creepy shit.
So we got to Southampton and it wasn't what I expected. It didn't look like some swanky resort town, or even a beach community. It looked like a small New England town with a courthouse, churches, and small mom and pop shops. There were some chic boutiques and artisan cheese store where I saw with my own eyes a guy spend $500 on a small Sopresetta salami and half a wheel of artisan cheese. FUCK! But these shops were few and far between.
It suddenly struck me what this Hampton thing was all about. The hip celebs and rich fucks that live in New York travel out there to pretend they live a quiet small town life. Of course them being dumb celebs and rich fucks they bring their artisan cheeses,organic tofu, and cocaine with them. It was all kind of sad, this charade these people put on badly.
We stopped at a diner to have lunch. I was eating my gyro when I looked up and saw Alan Alda. The real Alan Alda. But he didn't look like Hawkeye Pierce or Ricky Roma. He looked like a haggard old man, too cold inside to take his jacket off. He was talking quite animatedly to the lady he was with about how "Fucking Nathan Lane" always beats him out of awards the Tony's, the golden globes. He looked upset about this, and "Fucking Nathan Lane".
it made me think, wow without his makeup and costumes he is just another insecure actor bitching about recognition in a town where they pretend to be just regular people with real problems. I know I am constantly being hampered in what I want to do by "Fucking Nathan Lane". The other day "Fucking Nathan Lane" made me late for class by pushing me down in the subway and hoping in the car ahead of me. Just yesterday "fucking nathan Lane" set a bag of dog shit on fire on my door step rang the doorbell and ran away. But don't you worry dear friends, I got his number. When "Fucking Nathan Lane" pours out his Cap'n Crunch cereal tomorrow, he is going to find that his crunch berries have been replaced by my cat Abigail's turds. then you will hear "FUCKING JACK TOMAS"! Echo through the great white way. And Alan Alda and I will laugh.