An Evening Summer Hamptons Beach Walk!

Hamptons Beach

The Hamptons. As the sun sets to a perfect summer day, there is nothing better than taking a walk at the beach along the shoreline.

In truth, I believe the Hamptons beaches are truly magical. Indeed. Perhaps that is why people flock to the Hamptons like ants at a picnic. Sure! Peeps who flee the summer sweltering heat of NYC, the smell of roastin’ garbage, and boilin’ asphalt, crave the natural habitat of the hamptons.

Yes ma’m. The Hamptons are explodin’ with NYC peeps who want to be ‘one with nature’. They love to stop and smell the roses that are a bloomin’; watch the annual return of the monarch butterflies; observe the Ospreys who are nurting their babies in their nests on the dedicated nesting poles that hover above the Hamptons; or simply tend to their vegetable gardens that thrive in the naturally nutrient rich soil.

Really? Do ya think all the city peeps come for the nature? Hell No!

They come to party! But… we are talkin’ about beaches. Save city folk stories for another day!

The Evening Beach Walk

I raised my kids in the Hamptons. In the summer, we love to walk along the beach at night. When very few people are there. It is quiet. In fact, peaceful.

Celebrity Alert!

A few nights ago, after dinner, I took that beach walk with my hubby, my neighbor Linda and her dog, Bella (a 12 pound ‘Pomsky’). And yes, my dog Latte, aka ‘The Queen’, a small, white Havanese. Dogs are allowed on the beach after 5pm.

As I live and breathe, we came upon a local Celeb. You betcha baby! Of course, my hubby and Linda were totally oblivious. What NOT a surprise!

I recognize this person like ‘a mile away’ — our kids went to school together in the Hamptons. I know, totally cool! Right?

Let’s set the scene:

As we get closer, our two entourages meet. You know my non-famous nobody group. Who has she got along for the walk? OMG, like her pseudo-famous daughter and her fiancé, and their cute little dog.


If you know me, and you should by now, I swoop in for the ‘hello’!

You betcha! I stop walkin’. No, I do not jump in front of the celeb, so she stops walkin’. Don’t be silly. I am not that desperate!

I said ‘hi’. Then I say, ‘I know, you don’t remember me, but our kids went to school together’. And by the by, my older son said, “Mom, you do this every time you see her”.

But really, she never remembers me. Her response, ever so polite, is, “Oh yes! Hi!”. Wouldn’t that be nice, if it weren’t BULLSHIAT! Whatever. And by the by, her kids are great.

Anyways, I ask her how her kids are doing, blah, blah, blah, she asks about mine, blah, blah, blah, and we parted ways.

Natural Beauty

To be clear, my nobody entourage are all walkin’ in tee shirts and shorts. No make-up, hair a mess. I may even have a stain or two on my clothes from eatin’ and cookin’.

The Celeb and her daughter, however, were a totally different vision. Like OMG! They wore sun dresses, make-up, even lipstick. Picture perfect.

I shan’t identify the celeb, however, my friend Linda thought she did not look like anything in her photos or tv appearances. I actually thought she looked great. Really. And she is O-L-D. Let me clarify, she is in her 60’s, while I am clinging onto my 50’s for dear life.

She publicly professes her aging is natural, and never had cosmetic surgery. Sistah, if that be true, then I’ll have what you be drinkin’.

I have the best dermatologists on both coasts. I even have a wellness doctor who loads me up on a daily ritual of concoctions of vitamins, minerals, collagen powder, and hormones in an attempt to beat back aging.

Despite my valiant efforts, and I am younger than that sistah Celeb, she is really a hot mama. Kudos to her.

Catch Ya’ on Return Trip!

As luck would have it for me, I got to see this hot mama goddess again on the return walk home.

And this time, she stopped, asked whether my older son was home now. Why, I have no idea.

Go figure.

Can we be friends now?

To be continued…



Furious Mom!

They Always Come Back Home

Y’all may recall, a few weeks ago I wrote the article The Hamptons Empty Nesters.

My girlfriends, don’t ya know it that as soon as I dumped (oops! ‘dropped off’),the last kid at the Hampton Jitney bus stop, I partied like it was 1999! You betcha baby!

Did I hear a Pin Drop?

Our home was quiet. I heard the chorus of birds chirping the song ‘hallelujah empty house’, and the soothing sounds of the ocean waves breaking at the shore.

I achieved Nirvana.

Girlfriends, I celebrated with a Baccarat Crystal cocktail glass filled with perfectly chilled Tito’s vodka. I tossed in an olive for good measure.

Wouldn’t ya know my freedom lasted for a nano-second. I took one sip of my celebratory cocktail, and the party was over. I prophesized this would happen!!! Shiat!


As soon as son #1 arrived at his apartment, we got a phone call. There was an invasion of cockroaches.

Query: When would the apartment building ever conclude the year long construction project? Keep in mind, this is the never ending project that literally never ends. And paleeze…don’t give me that line of shiat, “Oh, so sorry, but COVID delayed the project excuse”.

I do not know what the construction workers did, but they must have awoken every roach that lived on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Really.

And then, the cock-a-roaches piled into their roach mobile and decided to take a road trip to my son’s apartment. All jokin’ aside, I am confident the entire building was invaded by roaches…


Oy vey. Really? Bug, schmug. Whateva! Don’t Come Home!

I would do anything to retain my newly minted title ‘Empty Nester’.

Gay to the Rescue

I schlepped to NYC to investigate. I entered the apartment in body armor; well, not quite. I brought boric acid, a tried and true remedy to snuff out those pesky critters.

As the big Macha, (in Yiddish that means the ‘Head Honcho’), I surveyed the situation. We be talkin’ determined cock-a-roaches. They must have been a trainin’ for this invasion. Straight outta’ a horror flick.

It was a war zone in that apartment. I found carcasses of cockroaches; it was clear they were putting up a hell of a battle but were losing the war.

I stayed for the night. I woke up early, to make the trek back to the Hamptons.

Let’s set the scene: Good news, the coast was clear! Not a roach in sight!

I hopped into the shower. Thinking the roach problem was under control, I was totally relaxed.

I go for the shampoo… and just as I picked up that bottle…the world ended. Visualize this: A sly and cunning cock-a-roach was hiding behind the shampoo, just waiting to terrorize me.

Kudos to that crafty bastard, what a great war time tactic.

It was at that moment I entered the twilight zone and had an out of body experience. That mutha fucka stared at me with those eyes. And this was not cock-a-roach, this was a water bug, which can be huge. We be talking almost 6 inches long or bigger? Could have been a foot long. But who knows, I was traumatized.

I was shrieking like a lunatic in a straight jacket who was locked away in an insane asylum.

It’s amazing I did not pull the shower door off the hinges while fleeing. I attribute my super-human core strength to Tracy Anderson.

I know what you are thinking…what happened to the bug?

You betcha baby! No match for Gay! I snuffed that bug out with the bottle of shampoo, and then ran out of the shower. Sistahs, I can assure you there was no need for the police.

My message to the all the bugs that entered the apartment: this will be your fate. And then I flushed that mutha dead roach down the toilet and gave the middle finger farewell salute.

Totally grossed out, my son and I retreated to the Hamptons.

Cockroaches and Family

You betcha… family, friends, they be just like those cockroaches.

I know. I am such a biatch! Perhaps ‘bunnies’ be a softer word? Cockroaches sounds too nasty.

You know it my fellow mamas! One person comes to the house and then they start to multiply.

Exactly. Now I have a marching band!

The Snow Hotel is Accepting No Mo’ Reservations!

My step-kids and grandkids planned to visit for a few ‘fun days in the Hamptons’, along with my sistah Lori, my 15 year-old niece, and two of her girlfriends.

What’s a mama to do? I went food shopping and cancelled all scheduled dinner reservations.

Oh yes… I also pumped up the rainbow unicorn and pink swan floats, set up the ping-pong table, badminton, fluffed up the pillows, and put the Advil on the kitchen counter.

But wait, my old mama and step-dad Bob had to visit too. Of course, they did. Do ya think my mama would miss out on the ‘fun’ we were having in the Hamptons?

Not only did she want to come for dinner, but she also wanted to sleepover and gab with the teenagers. I said, “mama, there are too many people here, so you can’t sleep over”.

My mama replied: “Gay, I am not anyone, I am yo’ mama”. I curtly replied, “Whatever biatch! You can only come for the day”. Well, with all due respect to my mama, I certainly did not call her a biatch to her face. Definitely behind her back. Just kiddin’ girlfriends.

And yes, sistah Lori thanked me that mama did not sleepover. We just would not go down that path of mama gossipin’ up a storm with the teenagers.

What About Bob?

Bob was incredulously thoughtful. He brought a ‘toy’ for the girls. So sweet. Oh yes, a jewelry design kit for girls ages 6+. Sistahs, I kid you not. He thought it was a wonderful way for the girls to play, make earrings and hair pins. Can you imagine? Sexist pig!

My Foreseeable Future

My fellow mamas… I must accept my fate. When your home is akin to a 5-star hotel, and everyone’s needs are addressed, who I be kiddin’?

In fact, when we get back to LA, we will be living with son #2 and adopted son #3. You know it honey! They gave me the line, “We will be home just for a few months.. we just be college grads lookin’ for an apartment”.

Bless yo’ heart. Mama ain’t no fool! I know, I will bring the jewelry design kit to LA so the boys can make necklaces when they are not looking for an apartment.

They will never leave…To be continued.



courtesy: Tracy Anderson

…Continued from Yesterday.

Y’all may recall yesterday’s article concluded with a cliffhanger. I was going to call my friend Tracy, AKA ‘The GODdess’, to politely beg her to find a spot for me in her class this weekend.


Of course, I scored a spot in her Saturday class! Now what do I do?

Praise the GODdess for pityin’ this poor, agin’ fool! Hallelujah sistahs! Tracy will save me from Mama Nature and Daddy Time!

That Photo!

To be clear, that is not a photo of me. That stunning photograph is of my friend, Tracy Anderson. Tracy posted this goddess-like photograph of herself on her Instagram page a few weeks ago.

What? You actually thought that is moi??? My word! Bless your heart… y’all be too kind! Come on now, I am way taller than Tracy.

But Paleeze, don’t make me laugh…because this will set off an uncontrollable chain reaction of bodily functions (I’ll pee in my pants, blah blah blah)! You know the drill sistahs. Never leave home without a Poise Pad!

The truth is, I gasped when I saw that pic.

Oy! My girlfriends… I ask y’all…how is it humanly possible for a sistah to look like that? On my best day, I never looked like that. So sad, shed a tear for Gay.

I called her, and said “Tracy, like OMG! I need this photo! I want to make it into a poster and put it on my wall”. NOT! Just kidding!

But really, like Oh my GODdess! Tracy earned that rockin’ hot mama bod. She is the real deal.

I Want A Six-Pack This Summer!

You betcha baby! Gay’s goin’ for gold this summer! I want a six-pack and a tight arse! And I don’t mean no Budweiser (which I never drank, by the by).

What? Did you just say?? Do ya think I am too old to have a hot rockin’ mama body?

How dare you biatch! Shame, shame, shame on you!

In Gay’s World, we can do ANYTHING! I think I can, I know I can!

I have a plan. Get outta my way biatches!

The Class

The chicks who fly in from Miami, LA, and NYC to attend her classes, are total devotees of her workout. They all have incredible bods. It is one thing when I body shame myself in writing. It’s another thing when I am actually in Tracy’s studio standin’ alongside the other hot mamas. And trust me, they be smokin’ hot.

Post-Pandemic Workout!

OMG! I just realized I will work out in a room full of people. To be real, I have not worked out with other people in almost two years.

Like what was I thinking? I am going to be in a studio with other hot mamas who are a huffin’ and a puffin’ and a sweatin’! Eeeeew! Eeeeck! Totally COVID gross! Oh wait! Post-COVID baby! Vaccinated People only!

I shan’t shame myself in public! I will probably be the oldest hot mama in the studio!

I simply cannot ‘show up’ unprepared and not in shape!

Believe me my sistahs when I say that it can be quite the challenge to keep up with the GODdess and her followers in an advanced class.

You betcha baby that tight arse is earned! It is not a ‘gimme’ to have a hot bod after age 30. Don’t we all know about that cruel reality that sistah!

Last but not least, what shall I wear? Word! I have to play the role of the smokin’ hot mama! Not only will have to wear color-coordinated workout clothes, but they best be tight as hell to hold in my bloated stomach! Appearance is everything baby!

Practice! Practice! Practice!

Like really? I have three days to prepare for my first live in-person class. Today was day one of Tracy’s online studio program, where I took the hardest, most challenging advanced class. Of course, I did.

What was I thinkin’ girlfriends? All I can say, is oy vey.

Word! Do I have a lot of work to do before Saturday! I will be training in my DOJO alone, where, moaning, groaning and accidental fart slippage is permissible. At my age, what can you do?

Let’s see if I will be ready for the live in-person Saturday class. I pray the other sistahs will ‘look away’!

To be continued…



Hot Mama??

Sistahs… Is that as good as it gets?

The Future Me

Honeys, is this what we all have to look forward to? Is this the end of the road for us?

Have you seen my mama lately??

Will that person in the photo be MOI sittin’ on the beach in Bridgehampton this summer? Will US Magazine sneak a photo of me dabbin’ my toe in the ocean and feature me in the “Just Like Us” section?

Will my girlfriend Kristin, who is turnin’ 50 this Friday, look like this? What about Faith, Lori, Linda, Denise, Hope, Michael, Ellen, Brenda, David, Leslie, Barry, Monique, Stephanie, Susie, Terry…?

Be scared sistahs, be very scared. If this is my fate, what in god’s name will become of y’all?

Oh… and brotha’s, we know what y’all look like after 50. Fools, stop snickerin’! Y’all not pretty at all. Nope. Nope. Nope.

What becomes of us? After the years and years of sit-ups, crunches, lunges, will we all be beaten down by the cruel duo of Mother Nature and Father Time?

They are so mean. They ruin everything. They take all the fun out of a room and add excessive old lady perfume and flatulence. Really that bad.


Screw that bullshiat my brethren. I shall stare down mother nature and father time. I shan’t be bullied! I will not cower in their shadow!

I will go to the beach this summer with my itty-bitty-titties inflated in a Victoria Secret extra-padded double-your-size push-up bikini top, reclaim my muscle tone and strut my hot mama bod!

The Plan!

I gotta’ step up my game my sistahs! I will not quietly fade away to South Florida, as my brethren before me.

I’m callin’ my friend Tracy. Yes, ‘that’ Tracy Anderson — the celebrity fitness trainer. AKA: The GODdess.

Word on the street in the Hamptons is that the GODdess has returned to her DOJO and will resume classes!

Move Over Biatches!

OMG! I need to score a coveted spot in her class!!! I am desperate!

You betcha baby! I am bitin’ the bullet! I need to step-up my game! My plan is to not only tell Mama Nature to “step back girl”, but order Daddy Time to “take your lecherous hands off me biatch”!

Tune in tomorrow to see if Tracy returned my call…



Ring of Fire

Hallelujah! I saw the eclipse! I did I did I did!!

Now I can’t see! Oy! My eyes! They be on fire!

A View From the Roof

The best view for this once of a lifetime moment would be on the roof! Where else, like duh!

Just imagine what it would be like to be so daring, so rugged, so adventurous at 5:00 o’clock in the morning in the Hamptons!

But wait? Would the weather permit a viewing of the eclipse?

The Hunky Meteorologist

Why should I look out the window when I can tune into CBS2 NY News to listen to my meteorologist GOD, Lonnie Quinn and see what he says.

Like really. Lonnie knows his stuff.

If I may, Lonnie, is a real, live, Ken Barbie Doll. The perfect blonde hair, chiseled chin, piercing blue eyes, the sculpted physique and those pecs! Need I say more? Really? A huge amen to my girlfriends out there!

Absolutely stunning. It is even fair to say he is breathtaking. I think he was an actor in a soap opera.

Lonnie never misses a weather event. And why should he? What would a weather event be without that face?

Shiat! What else is new? I am deviating from writing about the eclipse! What is amazing, is that Lonnie lives in Westport Connecticut. So close, yet so far… just yonder across the Long Island Sound. Oh my… the thought just gives me goosebumps!

Lonnie and I apparently had the same view of the eclipse. Same cloud cover, same sunrise. How romantic. Shhhh! Don’t tell anyone!

The Climb

I made the ascent to my roof. Yes, this is akin to climbing Mt. Everest. I was prepared for the climb. I was armed and dangerous with a cup of cawfee in my Duke University Parent thermal mug; I had my laptop, so I can write about the viewing in real-time; my phone to take photos; and the NY Times Crossword Puzzle to pass the time while I wait for the show.

This was such an ‘event’, that my husband also climbed up to the roof.

If you know my husband, that in and of itself, is an event. Too bad for him, he did not bring cawfee.

We were perched on the roof at 5:24 am, the exact time the eclipse was to begin. Again, if you know my husband, he (not “we”) is punctual!

My husband doubted whether we could see the eclipse; he thought the cloud cover blocked our view.

Patience….patience! If you know my husband, he is just so impatient!

Then it happened! He saw the eclipse! So exciting! If you know my husband, that was it. He came. He saw. He conquered. Fuhgeddaboudit! My husband left.

Of course, I stayed to continue to enjoy this once in a lifetime event.

Don’t Look Into The Sun!

I am such a total arsehole! Of course, I looked straight into the eclipse. Not once. Not twice. But countless times. Eclipse glasses? What you talkin’ ‘bout?

I have very fancy schmancy sunglasses: Ray-Ban, Dior, Prada… I don’t have eclipse glasses. I do not think they would suit my Hamptons and Beverly Hills fashion. Remember… appearance is everythin’ sistah!

Again, whateva! I am armed with my morning cup of cawfee! And by the by, I am on my fourth cup now!

The Most Beautiful Sunrise

Unbelievable! Amazin’! Like OMG! Breathtaking! I took a bunch of photos to memorialize the event.

Of course, my iPhone only captures blobs of sunlight. Totally did not capture the eclipse. My phone sucks.

Gay’s Ring of Fire 5:40am!

The Neighbor

By now, you know Linda, who is my neighbor. Remember? Linda has ‘Bella’ the puppy. A miniature “Pomsky” — a cross between a Pomeranian and husky. My son calls the baby a cartoon character. Too cute. Bella wants to be a big husky, but unfortunately is trapped in the body of a very small Pomeranian. Ooooh… poor Bella, she will need a therapist to help her overcome her Napoleonic Complex.

Anyway, the puppy wakes Linda up early. Too early for Linda. We are talkin’ 4:00 am sometimes. Oy vey! Good news for Linda today, the puppy slept in almost till 6:00 am.

Linda texts me at that time with the usual “hi”. I assumed, Linda, who is always in the ‘know’, was also watching the eclipse.

No. Linda did not know there was an eclipse. Bless her heart. Interesting. I suppose she does not watch Lonnie Quinn. Sad.

To be continued…



Memorial Day Weekend in the Hamptons! The official start of summer! The Sun! The Beaches! The Pool! The Barbeques! The predictable rain, wind and cold!

Mama Nature Laughed!

Mama nature snubbed all the Hamptons summer peeps! Honey, SHE rained on their parade! Mama nature laughed as she unleashed a torrential rainstorm of epic proportion. It was cold. It was ridiculously windy. And it was SOOO wet.

Fun in the sun? Ha! She proclaimed , ‘kiss my arse’!

A Total Wash-Out

The summer season in the Hamptons is from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Each day is a precious commodity. Hell, it is just so expensive to rent during the summer months in the Hamptons.

Each day lost to the rain (particularly those on the weekends) can amount to hundreds if not thousands of dollars of lost opportunity on the beach; tennis court; golf course; and canoodlin’ at someone’s ocean front home.

Correction. Better odds for canoodlin’ in inclement weather! Please, I hope I do not have to explain. Hamptons…cocktailin’…get the message?

Not Fair!

My sistahs, I feel real emotion, from the bottom of my heart, for all the ‘poor people’ who’s Memorial Day was a wash-out.

Oy. My bad. Poor people? I was referring to the people who were ‘down on their luck’ as a result of the bad weather. Oh girlfriends, these renters are totally not impoverished. Hell no! They all toot ‘round town in their Rovers, G500’s, yadayadayada. .

However, my heart sincerely breaks for the people who rented a toney Hamptons estate for upwards of $1,000,000.00 dollars for the summer and did not have their expected and well- funded, fun in the sun. You heard me right dudes, count them zeros!

Tears to all the people who rented for the summer and their first weekend literally went down the cesspool drain… NOT!

The End of the Pandemic!

Word on Main Street in the Hamptons is that COVID is over! Woo Hoo! No masks! Huggin’, kissin’, canoodlin’, cocktailin’ is all permitted for the summer!

My word! What is a girl to do??!! Take my mask off and run wild in the Hamptons!

Ah, no. I don’t think so. Been there, done that a long time ago my brethren! Need my beauty sleep these days!

Vaccinated People Only!

Pardon moi… the above identified ‘fun’ is only for vaccinated people. You betcha baby! The Hamptons crowd ain’t stupid. We all jumped the line months ago to be fully vaccinated and are ready to P-A-R-T-Y!

Oh yeah baby! Bring on the new roarin’ twenties- only show proof of vaccination pa-leeze!

Hallelujah my Sistah’s and Brotha’s

And what, Pray Tell, was the best part of my weekend? No pun intended… Did you get the hint?

OMG! I am a devotee of the show POSE! You betcha baby! With a name like ‘Gay’, how could I simply not adore that show!

As I have been told, I am Gay, not gay. Get it?


The only saving grace of the soggy weekend was the POSE wedding of Papi and Angel. Even though it is just a ‘show’, like duh, it is based on real events in NYC, which by the way, happened to real people during another epidemic called AIDS. Remember that time?

Somehow, the 1980s and 1990s feel just like ‘yesterday’ to me. I was a twenty-something back then and coincidentally, started to rent a summer share in the Hamptons.

The Hamptons was totally cool, even back then, but my 1/3 weekend share was $750 for the summer. Hey, that’s all I could afford. Which, by the by, my mommy paid for! So there!

However, hanging over all of our heads, whether gay, straight, yellow, purple, three-eyed or whatever, was AIDS. And trust me girlfriends, everyone was scared.

To all my peeps out there, whereva you may be: As we emerge from the COVID pandemic, we should be grateful for the Pfizer, Moderna, J&J vaccine. Like you even have to ask why? That vaccine gives us the ability to free ourselves from the virus that shut the entire world down.

Last time I checked, still no AIDS cure. Food for thought.

I wish everyone in the Hamptons an amazing summer, filled with an abundance of sunshine, happiness, love and appreciation towards all people!

To be continued…