A: Frustrating, because I can’t live out the sitcom trope of invading the life of my very successful brother / sister in some city previously foreign to me (Scottsdale? Wichita?). There are no nephews or nieces to indoctrinate with my wild, carefree ways. Don’t worry, kids, your goldfish will love this root beer I’m about to pour in his bowl.
It’s not the same when you do this kinda thing with your friends. They’re not blood, so they can just throw you out in the street when they’ve had enough of your shit. Sorry, dude, I didn’t think little Billy would be able to hear me singing selections from the DMX catalog in the shower on Christmas morning. In my defense, the walls in this place are like paper.