Unmentionable Edibles

Call me Gentleman.

It is strange; back in the olden days of July 2016, those halcyon days of yore, the DC Green Rush was so pregnant with possibility. It seemed like every choice was a node in a rapidly-changing matrix; every decision I made altered the possibilities stemming from it, and I could feel the great strands that bind our universe together warping, limiting, rearranging themselves around me. It was breathtaking, exhilarating, scary as all fuck. I can’t tell you how many nights I barely slept, my nerves shot, my gut roiling. The present feels more set, my next steps clearer. My choice to step into this role has come with a cost, but I don’t feel as though I’ve lost anything that was ever really supposed to be mine. All I’ve lost are my illusions and the physical manifestations of such. Like Ishmael, I have little to interest me along the shore of the American Dream. Memories trail like flotsam behind the ship of ragamuffins and castaways I’ve boarded. They stretch the dark knots back to the harbor, new corners occasionally bobbing to the surface for inspection, but so impossibly far away that they no longer feel like my possessions. I have arrived at the Wayfarer’s Point of this journey leaner, meaner, and eager for adventure. Right now, my focus is on piercing the veil of the false, learning what objects of my desire are not for me, so that I may discover which are.

Y’know, like this bounty of edibles from ports unknown. And what about self-aggrandizing, semi-coherent rambling intros that segue abruptly into marketing? Checkmark, more Shameless than H. Macy, baby! In fact, I’m calling it Unmentionable Edibles, which is a slick name when you say it out loud, and now that I’ve written it down, I own it! Haha, awesome. Make sure to Contact the Gentleman if you’re looking for awesome ideas for your own cannabis company from the best, sharpest, rootinest-tootinest cannabis consulting/marketing services around, pardner! Also, I’m cheap. But I didn’t make these. They were donated from a kind soul that just wanted to make sure the Gentleman had some sweet meds. Or it could have been a cartoon fox. My memory of the incident is a bit hazy…

Reason being, on the day I was set to begin my reviews, I was feeling frustrated with my high tolerance for orally-ingested cannabis meds. I decided the hell with it and ate 175 mg worth in one sitting, about an hour after a solid meal. This dosage, consisting of one Fruity Pebbles bar (100 mg), two squares of white chocolate, & one square of milk chocolate (each 25mg), indeed proved higher than required. Twenty minutes in, my head was buzzing heavily and I was laughing easily. I was Friday’d in another twenty (y’know, got knocked the fuck out!) Sitting back in my recliner, I fell asleep before I could decide to get up and get to bed. I woke up two hours later, still heavily buzzing like I do after I’ve smoked a lot of indica. As far as taste goes, the white chocolate squares were totally on point, easily my favorite and could stand against some of the frou-frou Whole Foods bars. The milk chocolate isn’t at that level but tastes fine, and the cereal bar was marshmallowy goodness.

Chocolate Cannabis Sandwich.

Having overestimated my tolerance once, I went a bit easier the next time around. I ate a packet of three Deadhead Gummies, approximately 35mg each, on an empty stomach (having not eaten in six hours). I was feeling the heady, psychedelic rush in about thirty minutes; that’s when I decided to go ahead and eat dinner. It didn’t affect the buzz much, which came on super loud. For the next two hours, I couldn’t think clearly, but enjoyed a wonderful, content mood. The television was uproarious (Season 11 of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia just dropped on Netflix, squee!) and I unwisely began returning emails and texts, until I realized after the first few that I was way too euphoric to care about the consequences of whatever I said, and decided to put the phone away. The overwhelming sensation ebbed in the third hour, approached its nadir in the fourth. These sweet gelatin candies pack a heavy sativa punch.

Deadhead Infused Gummy

Last was the Canna-Lean, a cannabis infused syrup made for mixing in drinks. I’ve never had this before! My various social media inboxes have been getting pinged for over a month from folks around town about how I need to try this product. I didn’t underestimate it, as some of them included videos of people passed out. My first time ’round, I took a direct shot from the bottle, about one-third, late in the evening. To be clear- you are not supposed to do this, but it was later than I wanted to drink any soda. The syrup is super thick and heavily grape Kool-Aid flavored, but went down just fine. Forty-five minutes later, I felt a warm body stone, my body and mind synergistically relaxed, and was ready for sleep. The next time, I wanted to go more for the party experience, so I dumped the remaining two-thirds into a nearly full 20 oz Sprite. Surprisingly, the syrup reacts with the carbonation and the mixture begins to bubble out of the bottle. So, clear some room in that soda before you add it.  It probably took twenty minutes to finish the bottle. Again, around forty-five minutes later, the edibles buzz kicked in. This presented mostly as a strong head buzz- it was just loud enough to block out distractions without interfering with my ability to cogitate. Totally taken in by the Packers vs Giants game, I was whooping it up at every big play until Aaron Rodgers & Co started running away with it. Then I turned this powerful focus to other pursuits, and in an hour’s time, it was consumed with no ill after-effects.

These edibles are exceptional. Perhaps the strange winds and currents of your own existence will carry you, too, to some dark port, and an exotic stall of edibles, flowers, oil, vape juice, hash caps, whizzers, bouncers, dipsy-do’s, Shanghai penny-suckers…

Alright, I made up everything after ‘hash caps.’ I’m feeling positively incorrigible today, like my girl Tove Lo. Did you notice that her name is “Love To” transposed? Oh, you did, because it’s obvious. But did you notice the, ahem, female anatomy on the cover font of her new record Lady Wood? Oh, you don’t pay that much attention to pop divas? Well…I have my “Moments.”

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