Peer Into My Photobucket

Perusing your Photobucket account can be an enriching experience, especially when you've owned the same account since 2001. It makes you more mindful of things like how much you've matured and how much weight you've gained since you were 19. The following are the insights purloined from my bucket:

1. Everything Happens for a Reason
In my bucket of photos is a picture of one of my exes. An accentric Israeli with a white Pomeranian named Gucci that he mouth fed (yes, as in fed Gucci out of his own mouth), the romance was probably doomed from the start. I was crushed when he went to Israel on business and found a poodle-haired relation of former Miss Israel as my replacement, and then even worse, never bothered to tell me. They married soon after in a tacky wedding complete with white doves and jewel-studded head pieces. I know this through my Facebook psychostalking. Stop judging me, his profile was public, okay? One thing I did deem worthy of saving is a picture he took with his heavily pregnant wife. They are posing together in matching outfits, Poodle-Hair giving the camera her trademark seductive head tilt with her prominant pregnant belly barely hugged in a spandex top, the Ex with a slicked back ponytail, winter scarf, cargo shorts and a hairline that was in deeper recession than last I saw. Next to them is a lion. Yeah, what the fuck? That could have been me.

2. I Looked A Whore At My Best Friend's Wedding

As maid of honor, I was a grand vision of cleavage and double-stick tape. I am the reason vanity sizing exists. I purchased a bridesmaids dress that fit everywhere but my bust as I refused to size up. The tailor's solution to the quad-ra-boob phenomenon that occurred when the dress was zipped fully was to hack off part of the back of the dress into a deep "v." The result was a dress that no longer cut into my curves but also failed to remain in place, preferring to sag several inches and leave little to the imagination. In a bid to keep things Christian, I turned to Hollywood tape. This tape does not withstand the soul train. Cheers.

3. My Forehead Hasn't Changed Since 2000

Thank you Botox.

4. I Am An Alcoholic

It would appear that my longtime companion is the classic plastic red cup, the universal symbol of cheap vodka and Ocean Spray. I like to pose holding it high, chin-level as if toasting with a crystal flute. In my early-to-mid 20s, my creed was prepartying. In retrospect, any prepartying I did usually ended my party before it even began. I can think of more than one occassion where I was denied entry into a bar due to stumbling in my stilettos or repeatedly asking the 350-pound dreadlocked bouncer whether anybody had ever told him he looks like Taye Diggs. Sitting in the gutter and dueting to "No Woman No Cry" with a homeless man and drunk dialing your parents (who don't answer) while waiting for your friends to leave the bar is no way to spend your youth.

5. I Am Easily Impressed

I met a Cal journalism student who had interviewed Jenna Bush and insisted on taking several pictures of him. One is included in this post. WTF...