sweater? i don't even know her!

So I spent the weekend in the Hamptons at my friend Dan's grandmother's house. Enjoyable time had by all, or so I thought. Yesterday, some redikalus biznass goes down via cellaphone. Dan called me to ask me if I had stolen his grandmother's boyfriend's blue cardigan sweater. Not an unreasonable question, I thought, so I explained that I wish I had stolen it, and that if I had, I would wear it every day. Unfortunately, that did little to explain the sweater's disappearance, or quell Dan's grandmother's unbriddled rage caused by her suspicion that her grandson's friends are free-loading (true), old man sweater stealing (untrue), jerks (true). Dan said that the only thing he could think of was that maybe one of us took it while we drunk and played old man dress-up while frolicking about the yard. That sounds like my kind of party, but sadly, such a scene has only taken place in my wildest hopes and dreams.
dope-ass representaysh of my dreams. don't show this to dan.