5 Plants My Wife Bought and the Names I have Given Them
Hey, are you in quarantine? Staying in unless totally necessary? Are…are you surrounded by house plants that seem to multiply every time you turn your back?
I’m living in a scene pulled right out of the jungle book. My wife has transformed our home into a resplendent rainforest and I wake every day fully expecting to have to fight my way past packs of majestic predators to get to my coffee maker.
Today I’ve made a decision. Rather than live in fear of the encroaching wild, I will cast myself as botanist, biologist and the living room’s bravest explorer as I set out to name the potted intruders stealing all of my precious CO2.
This adorable little guy isn’t getting half of the sun he deserves. He’s been quietly tucked into a corner, still working diligently to turn CO2 into oxygen, but widely ignored by the other prettier and less disheveled plants. I’m no plant age determiner guy, but my guess would be that Fernie Blanders has been working hard to ensure enough sun for all of the plants on the window sill for longer than any of the others. Keep at it, Fernie. I believe in you.
You didn’t think they would all be plays on household names, did you? Nope. Some of them are just regular names. At least one is just a regular name, but fancier.
Fancy Dennis sits on my wife’s desk where she works from home as I corral our beautiful, destructive children. He serves to remind her of the more delicate things in life now that we’ve replaced all of our nice furniture with near-indestructible, child-friendly monstrocities. Fancy Dennis whispers promises of one day drinking out of glasses again instead of plastic cups. He sings softly of waking up to sun beams on your pillow instead of toddler screams in your face. The intricacy of his petals lend a peek into a world of art without macaroni noodles.
Fancy Dennis mocks us from his porcelain pedestal. He will be watered last.
Chloro, Chloro, Phil, Y'all
I actually know what this plant is called. I’ve used that knowledge to come up with what I’ve been assured by anyone who has read this article, and has a suburban dad’s appreciation for early 90s hiphop, is the worst plant pun in the history of vegetation. Anyway, sorry about that.
Gary Oldman in True Romance but a plant
I haven’t totally given up on these names, I promise. I just can’t look at this plant and think of literally anything else. If you’ve never seen True Romance, Gary Oldman looks like this as Drixl Spiver:
It’s the kind of scene that would never play out today but completely encapsulates the early 90s idea of intimidating drug dealer guy. Oldman hacks his way through a jamaican (?) accent from under crusty braids while drapped in leopard print. “Whoowee! This child fierce!” Gary Oldman yells at Christian Slater after Slater refuses to partake of his eggrolls. It’s confusing, a little unnecessary and leaves me with so many questions. Just like this plant wearing a crochet romper and hanging from the ceiling.
My doc is pleading with me to make sure I’m getting enough excersize and with this stretch I’m solid for the rest of the week. Okay, hear me out.
This plant is the Ray Donovan of house plants. It’s huge, tough and rock solid. Unless Ray Donovan becomes not those things in later seasons because I am not caught up. It’s season one Ray Donovan Liev Schreiber. And Sabertooth Liev Schreiber. But not Scream 2 Liev Schreiber. I could never see this plant trying to climb to fame on the back of Neve Campbell’s tragic fictional backstory.
Okay, I’m going to go watch more movies and water these plants.
Look after your own outdated pop culture themed greenhouse with everything below:
That plant romper is amazing. I should get one or six.
Love the phrase is “my beautiful, destructive children” 😂 I used to think similar thoughts about my own kids, usually when they had finally fallen asleep.