On a recent evening, I thumbed through Food Court Druids, Cherohonkees and Other Creatures Unique to the Republic by Robert Lanham, the author of the Hipster Handbook. I tossed the book on the night stand thinking Robert has too much time on his hands and switched off the light. I didn't give the book another thought. Or, so I thought. Until, I was sitting in a conference room zoning out during a presentation and found myself snarkily commenting to my inner be-otch, "she's a TOTAL cherohonkee." Gasp. Then I quickly identified the Happy Monday, was cornered by a Sigmund Fruit and admired some Asiatrash. Under the chihuamos heading I learned my dogs are "exceptionally gay." That'll be news to Quentin. Speaking of that four legged bastard, he's really done it now. In hot pursuit of a bag of wasabi peas, he chewed through the zipper of my Viv Pickle purse. I'm at a total loss. I'm still toting the poor mauled thing around. It's gaping wide open, little zipper parts hanging off. I wonder if they can fix it I bring it into the store. Of course, if I go in there, I'll feel compelled to design another bag. The day I put together this one, Scarlett Johansson was in the store. She had hers shipped to an address in LA. I got there too late to see what hers looked like. Have you ever had one of those, "Oh, God. I'm getting old moments?" I had two today. The first is the realization I truly need eight hours of sleep to feel good. Despite my protests that I only really NEED five or six...tops. The second moment hit me when I found myself snacking standing up in the kitchen, reading this week's issue of New York by the range hood light, chomping on reduced fat potato chips and fat free sour cream dip. Someone smother me with a pillow now, please. Next stop kidney stones and crows feet. On the 1 and 2: Badly Drawn Boy....parties invited to for Halloween: 2....desire for full fat potato chips: high.... movie I'm dying to see: Tarnation