Last night I was staying at my friend Lizzie's and she was like: Let's just go over to my parents house and I can do laundry and we can watch a movie and you can just crash on their sofa. They're out of town anyway and we can just chill in the air conditioning. Her roommate, Lizzy (I know, confusing), came with us and we ordered some food, did laundry, and watched the first Lord of the Rings movie all according to plan. Their workmate, Kim, was going to stop by as well and just say hi, and at some point Lizzy noticed some footsteps from the first floor.
Lizzie: "GEEZ! That's kind of presumptuous of her to just waltz in the house without knocking. Be right back."
-She walks up the stairs-
"Ummmm, guys, it's the cops."
"Hiiiiiiii, my name is Elizabeth Randolph... uh, my parents live here."
Police: (With guns drawn) "Do you have any form of identification."
Lizzie: "Yeeeah, um, my pictures are all on that wall over there."
Police: "And who's truck from Texas is that in the driveway."
Me: (Coming up the stairs) "That's mine, y'all." [I thought the "y'all" would give me some southern street cred]
Apparently the house sitters/neighbors noticed the "foreign" vehicle in the driveway and went to the door and heard noise from the basement and just thought that someone had broken in. When one of the officers went out to the porch to ask if they knew anyone by the name of Elizabeth Randolph they were like "oooooooooh crap!"
So basically the Lizzie's and I are going to start a crime syndicate where we break into people's homes, photoshop our faces into their family portraits, raid their movie collections, and do laundry. Pretty crafty, right?