So last night my husband came home drunk: A FML Story FML Filter *GROSS-OUT WARNING*: So last night my husband came home extremely drunk. →[More:]Now, my husband is a very big guy, and can drink most other men under the table on the rare occasions he drinks. Last night, he came home (via cab, no worries) and proceeded to lock the already unlocked deadbolt. This deadbolt can only be unlocked with a key (meaning it has keyholes on both sides). Of course, I am scurrying around looking for my keys while a large, loud North Carolinian in leather is wailing "DAAARLIN' it wun open!!? HALP!!" in his best Foghorn Leghorn accent (when he's sober he sounds fairly normal, but when he's drunk he actually says things like "boo howdeh!" and "hooo dowggies!"). After I managed to unlock the door and let him in, he staggered around like a Southern-Fried Frankenstein for few minutes, then flopped down on the couch and passed out. Since trying to move him was like dealing 6'2" 275lbs autistic toddler, I left him there and went to bed.

A short time later, the inevitable happened. I hear him charge into the bathroom and unleash the "colors of the wind" like a long-haired cat with hairballs. After he staggered back to the couch, my spidey sense was tingling, and I had to go make sure all was well in the bathroom.

The good news is, he made it to the toilet.

The bad news is, he neglected to lift the lid first.

The REALLY bad news is, the toilet is right next to a baseboard heater.

That man is lucky he married a woman who isn't afraid of bodily emissions and loves him enough to mop up 2 gallons of burning, half-digested pizza, rum, and coke at 3am.