Emotional Rescue

Traveling FoolI have just returned to Prague after a month holiday at my parents’ house in Langhorne, Pa. As after any extended hometown and family visit, there are a lot of emotions swimming around my head. Here they are. As you read, please keep in mind that I am jet lagged, and this particular strain of jet lag has been fortified with the free pouring policy of the service staff of Lufthansa Flight 403.


When I visit, my generous and wonderful parents spoil me as though I’ve been locked in a Nepalese POW camp for three years. I am greeted with dinner at our favorite Italian restaurant and the month of indulgence continues from there. Aside from the diners, restaurants, and family parties (not for me, but I reap the gastronomical benefits) my mom cooks my favorite meals.

There are unforgettable evenings with family and friends. Hanging in a beach bar with my sisters and getting hammered on Jägermeister. There’s watching baseball with my dad, doing puzzles and watching Harry Potter with my brother, and visiting old haunts and stomping grounds with old high school and college friends.

It was a perfect month. And getting on that airplane was very difficult. But I’m also…


OK, here’s the thing. You – yes, you – and I both know that there is a fine line between quality time spent with your family and going to jail for murdering five people with a baking dish. One month trod that line quite well, and by the time I left I found myself reacting to my parents at times the way I did when I was 12. Saying things like, “Why on Earth do you think that’s a reasonable thing to ask me at 6 a.m.?” and “Holy fucking monkey turds, this conversation is driving me out of my mind. I’m going to the bar!”

The departure time was right; I needed to go. Besides which, I needed to get back to my life. My job, my own house, and, yes, even my crazy cat, The B Monster.

Is Eye Rolling an Emotion…?

I don’t watch a lot of television in the Czech Republic, and so I had forgotten about how shitty television is in general. Let me qualify this statement by saying that I think the cable channels are, and have been for while, putting out some phenomenal TV (Breaking Bad, The Wire, etc.) But most network television in the U.S. can be summed up in three categories

Alternative Cops

Real Housewives

Competitive Chefs

To be fair, not all of the shows that fall into these categories are bad. Well, except for those featuring housewives; they all suck. Like suck suck. Like SUCK SUCK SUCK. But there is a good cop show here and there and some of the chef shows are damned addictive. But evening programming is absolutely jam-packed with shows in these three categories. Doesn’t anyone have another original idea?

There is only the inevitable mixing of these three categories to create the world’s most perfect demographic. Sort of like when someone figured out how to get Daphne from Scooby Doo and Princess Leia into porno.


I had to leave the B Monster with a friend. My friend has a cat and a (quasi) live-in boyfriend, they told me not to worry, The B Monster would be fine and taken care of.

The boyfriend was gone after the first week. Their cat joined him a week later. My friend’s furniture has been scratched, the plants have been eaten (and then vomited onto her rugs), and my friend has suffered several wounds. The B Monster has left a trail of blood and disaster.

I have raised the Genghis Khan of the feline world.


Prague. 6:31 a.m.

I am sitting here, eating a turkey sandwich smeared in some pink condiment I found at the store that ‘looked interesting’. I am drinking black coffee, and fishing out an orange chip thing on occasion. I’ll leave it to you to ascertain what level of grumpy I have achieved being hungover, jet lagged, and only capable of seeing out of one eye.

Epiphany: Jet lag doesn’t throw off your internal clock, it makes you pregnant.

  1. #1 by Tiffany N. York on August 30, 2013 - 6:40 am

    I am so with you on the reverting back to a child thing when around parents. I do that around my mother. I love her to death, but she can push my buttons like no other–she’s always right, so I can never argue a point, and she treats me like a preadolescent. Drives me nuts. Going to visit is great. In small doses. But eventually, home beckons.

    The only channel that comes in clearly for me is NBC, and I must admit Master Chef has sucked me in. The pressure, the stress, the competition–my blood pressure rises whenever I watch it. Last night I cried along with the girl who thought she was going to be eliminated. Ugh, how pathetic is that?!

    We’re not even going to discuss the cat issue. You know it’s said that pets reflect their owners, right? Hmmm…

    • #2 by Damien Galeone on August 30, 2013 - 1:46 pm

      The B Monster is a total jerk, I know that. And the Diva is flirting with and picking up all the younger dogs in the trailer park? I know there will be hell to pay for that one, but at the moment I just have to say:


  2. #3 by Tiffany N. York on August 30, 2013 - 4:57 pm

    Sadly, she’s a total bitch and barks at anyone who comes near her. Men specifically, she growls at–interpret that as you will.

  3. #4 by Andy on August 30, 2013 - 7:56 pm

    God bless Lufthansa. They keep their flying-metal-death-tubes well-lubricated. *insert infantile joke* *follow up infantile joke about inserting* (Good grief, I’m 33 going on 11.)

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