Let's just say that you don't want it back

Yes, honey, I know where your shirt is. Remember last weekend, when your mom disappeared for a few days, only to show up passed out in the hallway on Monday morning? No, LAST weekend. Well, I was under this delusion that if I dressed like my teenaged daughter I might get some more action at the clubs me and the rest of the Sex and the City Fan Club hang out at, so I "borrowed" that green shirt. I just did manage to strip it off and toss it in my hamper before passing out, which is why when you found me, I was pretty much naked, as usual.

Don't look at me like that. I brought you into this world, after all- me and that guy I laughingly call "your father"- the one who pays the mortgage on the palace you live in when the child support payments come in on time. And don't think for one damn minute that bastard isn't swiping your brother's clothes from time to time when HE goes out on the prowl. What's that? You're sorry you asked? Me too.

And no, you don't want to know where that stain came from.