I don’t mind seeing relatives every decade or two.  What I hate is holiday “drop-ins.” I am not a “drop-in” kind of guy. I will hide behind the curtains and let you ring the friggin’ bell. I don’t care if you ran out of gas in my driveway, I’m not answering the door (and I have dogs in the backyard that won’t let you go around either). Practical advice on “drop-ins” next.

We like to take timely, relevant and helpful information and blow it all to hell. So what do you do if grammy drops by unannounced and the house is full of beer cans and smells like bongwater? Here you go: