Saturday, January 31, 2009

guest post: daffodyllic speaks

today my daffodil friend is guest blogging. she tells me that she is writing about herself, allegedly from my point of view. a narcissus talking about herself? fitting. but i'll let her tell you herself.

I have an exceptional friend. This friend enjoys a certain amount of anonymity (though truth be told, she can barely pronounce the word anonymity), so on occasion she goes by pseudonyms having to do with a Narcissus (daffodil, for you un-botanists). Daffodils are hearty, bright, cheerful, fleeting, persistent, joyful, short-lived, and commonly yellow. My friend is all of these things as well, especially the narcissistic part. For those of you unfamiliar with the story of Narcissus, he was a beautiful young Greek boy who had the misfortune of catching a glimpse of his perfect visage in the mirror of a pond, and proceeded to fall so helplessly in love with the reflection that he bent to kiss it and was drowned.
My friend is not Greek, male, in love with her reflection, nor drowned. However, she is swimming in her own snot today, as the result of catching a pesky virus of the Common Cold variety. Here she is, miserably attempting to stop the constant flow of liquid from her nostril area: Notice here the gold of her hair and the white of the disposable tissue: how like a daffodil in colouring.

Today my exceptional daffodilic friend cleaned out her car. She has a Grand AM, which is gold-coloured like some varieties of daffodils; she calls it her “good morning car,” though not to many people get the joke.

Her son (who is too brown to be compared to a daffodil of any variety, but is narcissistic in his own four-year-old way) helped with the chore of the day, and by help, I am sure we all mean got in the way, blasted his mother with the hose (instead of the vehicle), and sprayed too much biodegradable orange cleaner on the windows.
A fun Saturday morning activity, if you ask me, especially since the sun was shining and the weather was gorgeous, and below-freezing conditions are an inconceivable notion to native Floridians.
(Why do Canadians not spell “Morning” as “Mourning” when they insist on spelling every other “-or” word as “-our”…? Mysteries abound.)
Speaking of mysteries, why is there a guest blogger? And what is the meaning of this post? And is there even a central idea to this rambling nonsense?

OK, so let’s sum up: My friend is like a daffodil, daffodils are a Narcissus, Narcissus fell in love with himself and drowned, my friend is drowning in her own snot and was drenched by a water hose that should have been aimed at her daffodil-coloured car. Also, the weather in Florida is more gorgeous than a Greek boy, and there is no snow, which daffodils can pop through anyway.

to answer my flowery friend's query, here's some info about why canadians spell things the way we do. also, thanks for spelling things the canadian way for me. good job.

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