The First time I saw her, she was looking up at me from a magazine I shoplifted from a Philadelphia convenience store. I studied the image with a thrilling frisson of recognition--oversized rubbery features, lipsticked gash, halo of fried Barbie-doll hair, wrinkled thrift-store dress, and bisexual loser boyfriend proudly worn as an accessory. You might think that I looked like Courtney back then, but as far as I was concerned, Courtney Love looked like me.

It's hard to remember, but she and that scrawny guy with the Manic Panic'ed purple hair and the pimples were pioneers, the first brave members of my rotten, stinking subculture to wade into the mainstream, and I'd be damned if I was going to be left behind. I figured that if a pudgy, abrasive, whip-smart, and weird-looking ex-stripper like Courtney could shove her way into the spotlight, there had to be room for one more. My ineffectual ex-boyfriend and I tore off for Seattle with "Smells Like Teen Spirit" howling from the speakers.

Whatever vagaries of fame and fortune I imagined imminent, becoming a Courtney Love impersonator was definitely not on my wish list. But just like my doppelg...nger, I was ravenous for attention, and my uncanny resemblance to the Northwest's most terrifyingly unpredictable diva did not go unnoticed. John Keister (the closest thing this town had to a "television personality" since J. P. Patches pulled the plug) witnessed my shameless Courtney-esque shtick and with one mighty sweep of his powerful arm, plucked me from obscurity. I played Courtney--or slight variations on Courtney--in a handful of forgettable sketches for a lousy pocketful of change on the now defunct Almost Live! I was going to be a star! Then, somehow the dream just up and died. Kurt blew his brains out, Moe's turned into a disco, Courtney turned her back on all the ugly chicks, and I took a temp job as an administrative assistant. As far as I'm concerned, Courtney Love and the Courtney Love in me died a long time ago, and frankly, neither of us deserves your tears. We were both insufferable bitches.

Tamara Paris' favorite Courtney moment is seeing Ms. Love "in her kinder-whore homeless lunatic drag at a Sonic Youth show, where she dumped the contents of her purse on the ground looking for a lighter while Kurt cringed inside that silly, sad hunting hat."