Ouch...

Okay, so I'm a nimrod.

Late last night I'm doing laundry and packing up for my upcoming Texas trip, and suddenly I need to run to the bathroom.

Now, this isn't one of those "Hmm, I should probably go to the bathroom soon..." kind of things. No way.

This is a "Holy shit, my bladder is about to rip out of my side, slap me in the face, and then piss by itself!" kind of thing.

So I dash off to the can -- and being a married man who likes to sleep in his own bed as opposed to the sofa, I have been trained to sit down on the throne when I take a leak.

To my dismay, the towel rack got in the way of my forehead as I bent over while dropping my drawers. I hit it so hard, things went a little fuzzy. I am now sporting a lovely half-inch gash on the right hand side of my forehead, and a big goose egg making sure it's prominent for everyone to clearly see and inquire about...repeatedly.

Q: "So what happened to your head?"

A: "Fuck off..."

The worst part of it is that I needed to ice my head. I'd filled up a baggie with ice, and then wrapped the bag in some of the laundry I was folding at the time. It just so happened that when I bumped my noggin, I was folding my underwear.

Okay, and while I'm icing my head, I need to finish the laundry so...being the MacGuyver genius I am, I use a second pair of underoos to wrap the first pair (still holding the ice) around my head. To hold it in place, of course.

It was right about then that my father in law woke up and walked in the room. As if the 3:00 AM image of pair of tightie-whities (mostly white) wrapped around the head of the guy who nails his daughter on a regular basis wasn't enough...I had to be watching HBO's Standup with Eddie Izzard, a ridiculously funny transvestite hosting his own 2 hour special where he is of course...in drag.

Thank God, I wasn't washing my wife's panties or I would have been shot.