My neighbor across the street has this plant growing up around his mailbox that I think it is gorgeous. It has deep purple blossoms with yellow centers and I'm not ashamed to say that I covet it like it's my neighbor's ass.
It's called a clematis, but I cannot ever remember the name of it and I always just use the first closest word I come to in the long term memory alphabetized file cabinet in my brain, and that is chlamydia (which, coincidentally, is also kind of purple).
Four years ago, I bought one for my mailbox. We planted it, nursed it, watered it and hoped that it would grow up as beautiful as his.
Four years later, this is his chlamydia:

This is mine:

I suppose, metaphorically speaking, I'm the one who's better off... but I still want his bush. (un-metaphorically speaking, that is.)
It's called a clematis, but I cannot ever remember the name of it and I always just use the first closest word I come to in the long term memory alphabetized file cabinet in my brain, and that is chlamydia (which, coincidentally, is also kind of purple).
Four years ago, I bought one for my mailbox. We planted it, nursed it, watered it and hoped that it would grow up as beautiful as his.
Four years later, this is his chlamydia:
This is mine:
I suppose, metaphorically speaking, I'm the one who's better off... but I still want his bush. (un-metaphorically speaking, that is.)
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