Really, it's not what you think.

Sometimes, there's nothing you can do, nothing you can say...in fact, it's better if you don't even try.

Every once in a while, you're flat out, red-faced, hand-in-the-cookie-jar busted.

Such was the case Monday, when television meteorologist, Brett Cummins awoke in an empty hot tub, gingerly spooning with another guy. Hey, no big deal right?

Except the guy was naked and wearing a dog collar...oh, yes, and he was dead.

Allegedly, the weatherman and soon-to-be canine man cadaver had arrived the previous evening at the home of the hot tub's owner, a third gentleman who subsequently engaged in some heavy drinking and drug snorting with the pair.

The host apparently retired to his living room couch around eleven that night, leaving the other two in the bathroom hot tub to play "get the dog collar and we'll see who the weatherman's best friend is," or something like that.

Awakened the following morning by the weather dude's loud snoring, the homeowner arose to discover the two men lying in the now empty tub, one shivering and disoriented while the other appeared quite comfortable in his cold, stiff deadness.

I'm sorry to make light of a tragic situation, but it seems that any type of spin on this situation by the TV personality would have proved impossible. What could he have possibly said to the police?

"Officer, please let me clear this up right now. We were trying to sober up, so we simply thought of the most wholesome show ever made and reenacted Lassie rescuing Timmy out of the well."

"Sir, I can explain everything. But first, have you ever visited a television studio and enjoyed a complimentary lunch, including pudding, with Little Rock's favorite meteorological celebrity?"

Most high profile figures who attempt to talk their way out of hugely embarrassing situations only subject themselves to further public ridicule. Remember veteran Republican Senator Larry Craig, who was caught soliciting sex in an airport men's room? He claimed that his hand reached into an adjacent stall to retrieve a square of toilet paper, rather than as a "game on" signal to the stall's occupant?

Okay, has anyone in the seven thousand year history of our planet, while using a public restroom, reached down to grab anything off the floor, let alone a single square of toilet paper? Even if my infant daughter had fallen from one of those lavatory changing tables, I only would have hoisted her with my elbows and subsequently scrubbed each of us raw with twelve dollar SOS pads from the airport news stand.

I'll be the first to admit that things have gone south for me on occasion. Back in high school gym class, the coach was instructing us on various agility drills. During his lecture, I grabbed a couple of tennis balls and placed them strategically in my nylon shorts to display my testicular prowess to the encouraging cackles of my cronies.

At that moment, the coach asked for the tennis balls to demonstrate a drill. I sheepishly extracted each ball slowly from my shorts and handed them to him, their green fuzziness still radiating my groin's heat.

"Real classy, Tim." He was disgusted. My friends were delighted. I was emasculated.

Other situations could have deteriorated quickly. That morning I dropped my preschooler off and she handed me her naked Barbie doll at the last minute and I tucked it into my coat pocket and forgot about it, any type of police frisking wouldn't have ended well that day.

And that's why I'm really trying to hedge my bets in the future, to avoid potential well-intended catastrophes. If that shopping list on the fridge contains only three items, and they are zucchini, "I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" and the new Shape magazine with a shirtless Ryan Reynolds on the cover...

that'll require three separate trips to Safeway.