My cat bit me yesterday and when I asked her why, she smirked, actually curling her lip and spit out the answer. "Because I still can," she said.

It's pretty hard to argue with her logic. Not wanting to get into a debate, I nonetheless remembered that there was a time when she could climb trees, but now she can't. Receiving that news bulletin would likely ensure nothing more than a snarl, a sarcastic remark or more evidence of the tools she still has available to make my life miserable.

In my case, I use my bank account. It's amazing how pliable and malleable people become when I snap open the alligator-look-alike cover and glare with renewed interest in getting my needs fulfilled.

Yes, there was a time when I didn't need to resort to the tricks. Even a pout worked and a smile could launch a war, but the days of fame and glory have long passed me by. I'm paying for my existence and some small measure of deceit. I'm still wise enough to understand I'm not fooling anyone, but I am just delusional enough to believe my own lies.

Let me introduce myself. My name is Katherine Jacobs and before you completely bore me by asking me whether I'm THAT Katherine, let me reassure you, Katherine Jacobs doesn't actually exist, except perhaps in the memory of the idiot who bedded me and promised me I'd be a star.

But, that was such a long time ago. It hardly seems relevant, does it? If I really wanted to award birthing rights to THAT Katherine, I might have to introduce you to the plastic surgeon or my publicist--worthy parents-- more than capable of creating fiction from a pound of clay.

I'm not the least bit impressive anymore, am I? Would you like to know who I really am, who I once claimed to be? Probably not, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

You might find this hard to believe, but damn few of the plastic idols you see displayed on movie marquees are actually real people. We started out as living, breathing freaks of nature, but by the time everybody moulded, sculpted and took a shot at messing with our limited intellect, there wasn't very much left of the original manuscript. And absolutely no one, expected me to think for myself.

They scattered too, you know, the minute the silicone began to leak, I couldn't even taste their dust. Sure, I've seen their new, improved version and it's almost funny seeing them make the same mistake--over and over again.

The truth is, there never was and will never be A Katherine Jacobs, but if you were me, and had to spend every waking moment of your life with her, trust me, there's not enough money in any bank to pay the price.

But, yes, I'm THAT Katherine Jacobs.