c........7

The Buddha’s truth was that life is suffering. The Buddha’s Sister’s truth is that that’s just, like, your opinion man. With this sweet sibling, you’re bound to take the strife in your life down by at least four noble notches. As a person who struggles with the anxiety that preys on those of us who are still on our way to enlightenment, it’s genuinely soothing and has brought me to a place of peace and relaxed sleepiness without ever freaking my bean. Should it cross your path, I highly recommend bringing this one home and experiencing the joys of mindfully unwinding.

I bought a cartridge of this in distillate form, and boy howdy is this just a friendly one to the evening toker. I will remember it for its gentle caress, lovely taste, and how it got me through the great Massachusetts vape ban of 2019. I nursed this thing with care for about three months, and in return, it took care of me. Thanks old Blue.

So without getting into frivolous details and wordplay, I can say confidently this is a special one. For the last few years I’ve stuck only to indica’s or indica-leaning hybrids, having experienced some significant bouts of anxiety after indulging in a few sativa dominant strains. I assumed I was the kind of person who should avoid anything labeled “energizing” or “good for focus.” After some great wake and bake’s and assorted rousing daytime activities with this number, however, I’m shaking off that presumption. This has treated me well and lifted me up without any of the racing thoughts or paranoia that other “daytime” strains have produced in my noggin. 5 stars, no foolin’, definitely one of my fav’s. And hey, check this out, I don’t even have a dog

This stuff right here. If I had to construct a perfect acronym to accompany the name, my creatively gifted mind needn’t search any further than the obvious choice: “Farm life, okay?” I took this with me to sample the bounty of the harvest at a neighborhood farmer’s market, and I’ll be a heifer’s nephew if I didn’t have the most quintessential experience one of these shindigs can offer. I floated as if on a stream of locally produced fancy-freedom among the countless handful of stalls, perusing the plentiful baskets of non-recreational vegetation. I blissfully looked off slightly as the charming merchants attempted friendly eye contact, in tune with the vibrations of the universe and the knowledge that I will resolutely spend $15 on a bar of honeyed goat milk soap to escape friendly banter without a hint of confrontation. I was one with the generous soil and the agricultural feats that we as a species have made possible as a community, and in that moment, I knew the purveyor of my awakening. Flo, I don’t have a baker’s fuck of an idea where you came from, but I’ll always remember where you brought me.

It’s just that. Within its lovely aroma and taste, playing across the sophisticated pallet of those of us who just love stuff that tastes like other stuff, the wind chimes Chiquita. It truly has this novelty sense to it that brings to mind the reasons many of us tried the devil’s lettuce in the first place. Well Satan has come a-knocking once again, but this time, he’s given up leafy greens in favor of a sack of yellow runts. Bring it to the beach. Frolic with it to and fro on your freshly painted porch. Watch Netflix with it, and learn to chill all over again. Wherever you go and whatever you do, nothing can stand between this charming strain and a sense of that calm, childlike wonder.* *it should be noted that security at Fenway Park can in fact stand between these two things, regardless of whether or not you’re seeing Phish.

I have a little summer competition going on. It rivals the heated reality hit television show “Big Brother” in terms of entertainment, but I’ll be darned if it’s not four hundred and twenty times more wholesome. Girl Scout Cookies is competing head to head in a furiously chill sparring match with the formidable Dog Walker OG to earn the title of Outstandin’ Lakeside Companion. These bud biscuits are making the decision unreasonably stressful, since it’s like, too good. Plopping down at a campground and puffing on the idea of a lil’ aspiring forest ranger confection? It feels like a thin mint wrapped in a Samoa...on WEED. All-in-all, it’s just a great way to while away a Sunday afternoon spent among the dragonflies. But that Dog isn’t going to walk itself. Who will emerge the victor? Only time will tell if I ever publicly address it again.

This ape adhesive is exactly what it says it is. And believe me, I get it, you’re a sensitive and inquisitive person, and when the opportunity presents itself to embrace this pungent primate, you arrive with arms wide open. It’ll hold you like a child, with the strength to deliver the tired soul to that special place of true security. You may also be acutely aware of the fact that it’s capable of crushing you to oblivion if handled improperly. But that’s only the paranoia kicking in, friend. It’s just weed, and you’re just a bit too baked to be chaperoning a field-trip to the Museum of Natural History. Hang in there.

Ah, Blackwater. Reminds me of playing a game of inconsequential poker in the bustling hub of Red Dead Redemption. Only this time, the lonesome cowboy has a different adversary. He’s battling a foe from within that’s nearly as powerful as that gang I can’t remember the name of right now. It’s harmless enough at first. A little pressure at the base of the skull. Maybe a bit tingly. A gentle suggestion of inflation, nothing a hardened old Westerner can’t handle. And then that pressure slowly crosses the line into a persistent force, and the result it’s pushing for is irreparably destructive. How does a morose outlaw retain any sense of a passably mysterious origin when he’s discreetly fighting off cheesing? Just cheesing it so right like some average dillhole. It’s unthinkable. And even as he’s beginning to comprehend the hopelessness of his position, he’s so far gone that his instinct for survival has been eclipsed by his desire to find a decent ice cream sandwich around here. Considering this is 1911, and information is so slow to move, he isn’t even aware they’ve only barely been conceived of. By the time he realizes he just independently invented ice cream sandwiches and that his whole life may have been leading to this moment, it’s game over. Be warned.

Sweet Tooth has quickly become a bedtime friend I’m very fond of. Indulge too exuberantly and it can pack a startling punch to the gray matter, but within thirty minutes a soothing droop of the eyelids takes effect in a more consistent way than any strain I’ve dated in a long time. The only reason I’ve rewarded it 4 stars is due to the fact that is doesn’t vibe well with unexpected emergency vet visits at 1:30 in the morning. The cat didn’t either though, and I still love him.

My partner and I enjoyed a little of this strain prior to perusing our local Target. It was the best wander about Target we have ever experienced. If you are finding your trips to Target emotionally heavy or difficult to face, this friendly pooch will surely guide you to the corporate-funded red and white beam of glowing relief that waits there for us all.