When you live in New York, you see a lot of different types of people. Unfortunately, there is an overwhelming amount of cliche types; you got your neurotic joggers, 25-year-old sexist Wall Street sharks, mean store clerks, celeb wannabes. It's that last group that cracks me up the most. A lot of them manifest their need to feel famous by taking on the characteristics, if not income level or job description of, "ladies" like Paris and Lindsay. You know what I mean- the hair, the clothes, the fancy bags, the tiny dogs. It may all be a bit annoying, but being a big proponent of "don't knock it till ya try it," I walked around with a fancy bag and a tiny dog. Friend Kate was kind enough to entrust her docile Chihuahua Luca to my care for a couple of New new things, and Luca accompanied me today to brunch in SoHo, where I tried to ignore the discomfort of stepping so entirely out of myself, however fleeting the feeling may have been.