Want to know the most absurd thing ever? Right now I am raising tadpoles … in my house … that I ordered off the freaking internet. Well, it’s just one tadpole, to be clear, but the order was apparently supposed to contain two. One did not make it through the trip (I have a theory on why and it involves a murderous tadpole prevailing and now living in a terrarium in my kitchen).
Why am I raising tadpoles, you ask? Well, your guess is as good as mine. I only know I ordered tadpoles because they arrived at my house in a small box marked “live animals — open immediately” and I only know I ordered two because I checked the receipt when the box arrived to find out what in the hell was going on.
I also learned from said receipt two other things: 1.) You can get stoned and overnight some damn tadpoles from another state to Durango, Colorado, and 2.) That is what I did. However, I’m not sure why I did it.
If I had to take a guess, I would assume this happened after smoking some Sangiovese from Prohibition Herb. The timing lines up, and I have recently been sending my sober self presents from my stoned alter ego, so that would line up as well. What also lines up is that this strain knocked me so hard into a wall that I most certainly would have thought ordering tadpoles was a good idea.
Here’s what happened. So, I picked up some Sangiovese from Prohibition last week, and when I popped open the lid, I knew I was going to end up blazed-face to no end. This strain is an indica with fat freaking buds and it just LOOKS potent as hell. The tag on the container confirmed what I suspected: 29% THC. So, given that the strain was likely going to kick my ass into outer space, I opted to smoke it closer to bedtime. Out of a bong, no less.
Was that a good idea? I’m not sure. It may have led down a different path if I’d smoked it earlier in the day or used a pipe (i.e. maybe I wouldn’t be raising leopard tadpoles for no reason), but that isn’t what I did so I don’t know. What I do know is that a couple of bong hits with this fancily-named strain and I was down for the mf’in’ count.
I’m not exaggerating, either. I literally took — at most — four bong hits of Sangiovese and then — shortly after — I couldn’t feel my face very well at all. The effects of this strain were almost immediate. (So was the choking, by the way — but I’m going to attribute that to some seriously large bong hits and not the strain itself).
And, once my face was strangely numb, I started to really feel what Sangiovese had to offer. This strain was wicked. My arms started to feel like they were wobbling — not shaking, but kind of like the skin was rolling in waves or something — and I became overly amused with the fact that my thumbs look tiny while typing on my phone. And by overly amused I mean I was literally laughing out loud like someone who’d inhaled way too much nitrous at the dentist.
My thumbs aren’t even small, for the record, but I clearly thought they were based on my notes, which say stuff like “I have the shortest thumbs. They’re like cartoon baby thumbs.”
Another interesting note I dug up was this one: “Oh no. My brain feels like it’s flopping forward off my scalp.” I vaguely remember feeling this, but shortly thereafter I remember nothing. Like at all.
The only clue I have as to what happened after the faux brain-flopping is the tadpole sitting on my counter and mocking my stupidity. I hate that thing.
So, yeah. That was Sangiovese. It killed any common sense I still had left in my body and then went right for the jugular. And now I’m stuck cleaning out a freaking tadpole terrarium on a regular basis, which is pretty freaking gross, if I’m being frank. Not loving it.
But I do love Sangiovese, so I guess I’ll just have to deal with the fact that it made me order a dumb live tadpole to raise that will eventually turn into a murderous frog. I’m not willing to give this strain up, even if I end up with a kitchen full of tadpoles. It is what it is, I guess.