![]() Reminiscing was natural, and a few critics lost concept of time. At that point we became lost in an episode of Green Acres, some staring into walls. We were surprisingly able to accomplish errands, at least, for about a half-hour. However revved up, there seemed to be a focused and narrow path to follow from task to task. With each additional puff came great spastic bouts of energy. Levity was widely reported while the immediate zonkergy hit. “Colossal,” sputtered one critic, who had been vaping for weeks. With the first rip came a zap of lightning. Her fiery hairs were accented by grandly contrasted greens, nugs rich and full, plump and sticky but with a solid grind. Pacific beach bum wandering through the Bible Belt. She was rugged, like a dis-located south. Her profile was spot-on: the characteristics of both Hawaiian-Romulan and Sweet Skunk parents emerged charismatically both in appearance and effects. The sativa-dominant experience is not a frantic or paranoid madness, but rather empowering, even like a jolt of coffee for those burning the midnight oil. Always a favorite around the office, the strain hits most of the high watermarks for good bud: taste (with good cure) is sugary with an aroma of mountain dew sitting in the sun, and the high, sped along and unleashed upon the world in electrified stupidity. Golden Goat came riding in a flash of light, and our reunion was bittersweet.
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