Nothing with my mother's side, the jackass in the family wasn't there, and he's not bad enough to require telling off. Afterwards, we went to my father's mother's house, and one of my cousins had asked me to bring my PB so we could watch some Family Guy episodes. When we got there, first thing he does is take my PB out of my bag while I get some "Kane Special" (caramel, chocolate pudding, whipped cream. De-****ing-licious 😀) and proceed to open it and start mucking about. I walk over, and say something along the lines of "can't you wait?" and close the PB. As soon as I walk to the other end of the table, he opens it back up again. I say something similar to "what's your problem?", and he finally closes it when his father tells him to. This wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been the one to suggest staying on Rt. 138 on the way back from Lexington, MA the day before, after we played a wedding (half of which was spoken in Swahili 😉), and I missed the exit to go from 95 South, to...
95 South (don't ask, it's Massachusetts). So instead of it taking about an hour to get home, it took 2 hours. ugh. Pretty tame compared to getting bludgeoned with a pipe.