All posts tagged: strain reviews

Goodbye Tumblr. Hello New Job.

I work for the marijuana industry now. So far, it’s been an interesting life. I’m complaining. But people always complain.  I’ve always wanted to work with cannabis. Now that I’m actually getting paid to do this, I feel comfortable enough to post what I do in my own blog. Although, I have been up to no good for about a year now. I’ve been documenting most of my smoking adventures by taking down the strains I’ve smoked and the dispensaries I visited.  TL;DR: Buying marijuana was easier and cheaper pre-Prop 64. 

Strain Review: Raspberry Glue

RASPBERRY GLUE My camera blows. But you get the point, I hope? An 8th of some medium sized nugs, small stems — soft with a little crunch when pinched. This strain is an indica-leaning CBD creeping in to finish with a full body-high. It lulls the user to relaxation and then to sleep. According to the Bakerii’s menu, Raspberry Glue is a cross between Pink Champagne & Gorilla Glue. Pink Champagne is a Ken Este creation breeding Granddaddy Purple & PieGuy420’s Cherry Pie, while GG4 (fka Gorilla Glue #4) is a cross between Chem’s Sister, Sour Dubb, & Chocolate Diesel. Of which are all heavy hitting indica and indica-dominant hybrid strains that leaves the users couch-locked. Raspberry Glue reeks of ripe raspberries or, the better comparison for it would be raspberry jam. There’s a mild hint of cough syrup in there as well — perhaps because of the mild spiciness the buds emit. The drag is smooth after lighting the joint. But, Raspberry Glue leaves bitter-sweet notes after the first hit. although it doesn’t stay long enough to cause …

Contact High & Couch Locked

I want to work on something I could make a portfolio out of. Even if it’s useless. One Friday evening, at the eve of my 22nd birthday, I found myself traversing another torrential rain shower cum budding tropical depression. I was fumbling for a cigarette, searching for a pack of filterless Lucky Strikes, while a vortex twisted on the flooded landscape of Paseo Blvd. It was around 3 am and I knew I was supposed to be home packing for my first move in ages. My bag was this rough leather sack by Betsey Johnson. It bore this distinct fuchsia kiss mark embroidered on the side. Time had dirtied the stitching and crusted along the hard, rubber handle. I knew it didn’t suit me. A woman 10 years my senior made it apparent that I tried too hard to be pretty or whatever the fuck Kat overheard. Nowadays, I don’t really give a fuck about that bag or looking exceptionally neat. It’s been 8 years and I kept the bag. I think. Probably rotting away …