This morning I ran across the bizarre caper story of an elderly couple fraudulently returning boxes of Jell-O to grocery stores. Apparently the Mrs. would go to the store, purchase at least 10 boxes of Jello and go home and devour the delicious contents. Then, they would put sandwich bags full of sand or salt back into the boxes and then reseal them. The husband would then return them for a full refund. They apparently hit at least 5 stores on several occasions each. To dispose of the evidence they cooked up and enjoyed all of that gelatin. Their flavors of choice: butterscotch and pistachio. GROSS.

I think the weirdest part of this story is the flavor options. That's a freaking lot of nut-flavored gelatin. This has gotten me thinking about what my perfect crime would be...This is Dwight Schrute's caper of choice:

After giving it a little bit of thought, I have figured out my perfect crime:

It involves me stealing all of the cupcakes at Sprinkles. (How is my March project of losing 5lbs going you may ask? Not so hot.) I would go into the store disguised as a famous celebrity. My top options would be Beyonce (wouldn't even need a costume) or Fergie. While all the high school girls that work there are rallying around my stardom I would perform an impromptu concert in the store so to ensure nobody in the kitchen was guarding the treats.

Then, the prince (who has been in my purse the whole time) would sneak out to the getaway car and alert manfriend (just like when Lassie barks that Timmy is in the well) that he can go in the back door and snag the cupcakes. While he is loading up the car, they're showering me in praise and even more cupcakes.

I would then go home and eat them for every meal of the day until I ran out. I may donate some to my friends or starving kids or something, but some would have to be saved for laboratory examination. I'd have my expert scientist friend (Andrea, I know you're ethical, but the deliciousness would force you to participate) study the cupcakes and devise the recipe for me to make them myself. I'd then make that recipe better (perhaps with the assistance of my pal Casey who is a real cupcake expert), open another store and make billions of dollars as a cupcake chef. I'd also have extra money for bariatric surgery and diabetes medicine.

Booyah. What's your perfect crime