(No, this entry is not about that kind of flow. Eew.) 

If you saw The Real World last night, you know from flow. David, who is a total idiot, is supposed to answer some questions for the intro to their lame cable access show. Instead, he puts on his tank top, pulls out his keyboard, and does a bad rip off of "Luck Be A Lady" in scat style, which a constipated look on his face to convey exactly how cool he thinks he is.  The lyrics are, "I know the way you've treated other thugs before me, please be my baby tonight, doo dooh daah, a ha chaaaaaa..."

It was just as bizarre and stupid as it sounds, and it was also fucking hilarious. Matt might not think so, though, because I kept him up half the night singing it. I couldn't stop. I kept biting my covers, but before I knew it, I was singing again. "Please be my baby tonight, oh scooby dooh, a-haaaaaa". I was cracking myself up. Poor Matt just wanted to sleep. 

And what this has to do with "flow" is that David claimed he was in fact answering the questions (which included "What is your favorite book?" and "Who is your idol?") with his bad rap video and scat song. Those of us who understand "his flow" are his intended audience, and if you don't get "the flow" then you won't get it. 

I think I get the flow. I think he was trying to say his idols are Angelyne and Hulk Hogan.

I haven't been sleeping well lately, at all. I've been thinking of calling my doctor to see if he can prescribe me something, because the anxiety is keeping me awake. I just can't shut my brain off, and I have had to resort to extreme measures to fall asleep. Last night was particularly bad. After I finally let Matt go to sleep (he resorted to begging) I hopped out of bed another few times to read, then to check the Real World message boards, and then to write the first chapter of a novel that popped into my head.

I've never had a real urge to write a novel before, but I think it would be nice to actually complete one. Even if it sucks.  I just have to keep reminding myself it's supposed to suck, because I've re-written the first chapter three times now. No wonder I can't finish a novel. Maybe it would be help if I had a (crappy) story outline, or if I wrote the (horrible) novel in condensed form first, or something. 

Matt and I went to my parents' house last night to visit the fam, and my grandmother, who has been moved there.  The whole premise of the visit obviously sucked hardcore, but I didn't have a bad time. I spent some time talking politics with my father (He hates Dubya and Dick Chaney, too. And to think, he voted for Reagan and loved Dan Quayle! I've taught him well.) and joking around with Abby. 

I also convinced my mother to take a two hour nap, which was badly needed.  The nurse left at 10 p.m., and mom was on her own in caring for Grandma for the next eight hours.  She hadn't gotten much sleep, so I urged her to take a nap. I don't know what my father is thinking by not taking care of her. He's not being very supportive at all. He has let Mom and Abby (mostly Mom, of course) serve him as always, and has yet to stop whining when he doesn't get enough attention.

After I got home, I got a phone call from Abby, who was cracking up. Apparently, she and Ash caught my parents in the bathroom with the lights out. 

"I think your mom was giving your dad head," Ash said loudly.

"God!" I replied. "Does Mom have to do everything!?" 

I have to say, I am really impressed with Ash. She's been so supportive of Abby and our entire family, I can't tell you. She has stayed with my sister for the past week, and done wonders for keeping her spirits up. She gave my mother a Virgin Mary medallion that she had been wearing. And she even argued with the ambulance driver for half an hour yesterday, insisting that my mother be allowed to ride along with Grandma. 

Ash has been totally invested in our family, and I'm really beginning to see why Abby loves her. Unfortunately, it will all go to shit if she loses her sobriety. But I'm heartened by the fact that Abby was on vacation for three weeks, and Ash remained sober the entire time. 

I got my author copies of the spring issue of Paris/Atlantic in the mail today. The good news is, it is a beautiful magazine, 300 pages or so, and very impressive. The even better news is that my poem appears first. I consider that something of an honor! 

The bad news is, there are two typos in my poem. 

Considering that it is a high quality, respected international publication, that's rather disappointing. I don't know what, if anything, I should do about this.

We haven't seen Tyler in a couple of weeks. Literally, he left town on the 10th and we haven't seen him since then. I heard from Danielle that he is in Massachusetts, because a friend of his was in a bad car accident. Apparently he had an incorrect phone number for us, which is why he never got in touch. He never even moved most of his belongings into the apartment before he left... they were all in a U-Haul out front. And Danielle said that Tyler didn't move his stuff into the apartment because we "didn't make room" for him.

It's all a bunch of bullshit. We didn't clear the room out completely, but we made enough room for his stuff. He claimed he was going to put some of his stuff in storage, so I just wondered (idly) what he was waiting for. He was waiting for us, I guess, but how should I know? Tyler never communicated anything to us, and when we talked about it, it seemed like he understood he could move his stuff upstairs at any point, we would do our best to accommodate any of his space needs, and he could then return the U-Haul it was all stored in. Now he's been gone for two weeks, and his U-Haul has been towed. 

I told Danielle he needs to talk to us one way or another. I don't really want to deal with it, though, and I think Matt should be the one to deal with it. Tyler is going to be his roommate, and I have enough to worry about. On the other hand, it's my stuff. On the third hand, I can't move my stuff into Matt's room because there's no room for me. 

I realize now that all three of us need to be involved. It could be resolved in an afternoon, and everything could be moved, if Tyler would just stand in one spot for 10 minutes and talk to us until we understand his flow. Hey, if he really wants to get his message across, he could put it in the form of a scat song, so we'd be sure to understand! 

Scoot and scoot and skoo doo....

Personally, I think everyone was expecting them to take the loophole and go for the small smooch. However, Max surprised us all by taking the initiative and slipping Bruce some tongue. The kiss went on a good five seconds. Oh. My. God. It was totally sexy.