Highly Recommended

This week on the pod, Leah G. takes us on a wild ride from the depths of moving hell to the celestial casting choices of Hollywood. Kicking things off from her new, box-strewn apartment, Leah shares the universally relatable struggle of unearthing forgotten treasures (and horrors) during a move, including a cringe-worthy high school diary that reveals her past ambitions as a professional unicyclist. To combat the existential dread and past awkwardness, Leah introduces us to her new favorite strain, 'Temporal Tapestry'. She raves about its mango and peppery scent and its ability to flip her mood from mortified to "good for her" with its giggly, euphoric sativa lean, making it her go-to for any "shame-based emergencies." Finally, Leah delivers her hot take of the week, questioning the baffling casting of Timothée Chalamet as George Jetson in the upcoming live-action *Jetsons* reboot. She passionately argues for "justice for George Jetson," highlighting the cosmic vibe mismatch and advocating for Hollywood to let Chalamet play roles more suited to his angelic, sad indie music aesthetic.

Your host Leah G. kicks off this week's episode from her official pillow fort office, ready to dive into her latest recommendations. First up is a review of a sativa strain called "Galactic Lemon Haze," which turned a regular Saturday into an incredibly productive, astronaut-level cleaning spree. While the experience left her apartment spotless, it also led to an alphabetically organized spice rack that has made finding the paprika a brand new adventure. Use with caution if you want to find your spices, but highly recommended if you want to feel like a sparkly spaceship who scrubs baseboards. Later, Leah recounts her journey to a trendy new vegan spot to reward her cleaning frenzy, only to be met with a mushroom burger that cost a soul-crushing thirty-seven dollars. She breaks down the internal monologue of paying for the burger and delivers her final verdict on whether a mushroom on a bun can ever be worth that much (spoiler: it can't). To wrap things up, Leah dives into a hot take on the current state of movies, pleading for a return to standalone films that don't require homework to understand the post-credits scene.

Leah G reviews Alien Rock Candy, an indica-dominant hybrid from Legacy Cannabis in Minneapolis, describing its unique citrusy and spicy aroma and full-body relaxing effects perfect for low-stakes creativity. She also shares a hilarious mishap with runaway bread dough and passionately rants about the misuse of "I could care less." Key Highlights: • Leah G highly recommends Alien Rock Candy from Legacy Cannabis, an indica-dominant hybrid known for its full-body relaxation. • The Alien Rock Candy strain features a unique aroma profile of sour lemon, rose petal, and pepper, with a bright, earthy taste. • Leah recounts a comical incident where her no-knead bread dough escaped its bowl and oozed down her refrigerator. • Leah passionately argues that the phrase "I could care less" is grammatically incorrect and should always be "I couldn't care less." Topics: Leah G, Minneapolis, Legacy Cannabis, Alien Rock Candy, cannabis review, indica hybrid, stress relief, creative pursuits, bread making, grammar rant, podcast, MN Cannabis Hub --- TRANSCRIPT (Upbeat, slightly chaotic synth intro music fades in and then fades to background) What is UP, my highly recommended people, and welcome back to the podcast. I’m your host, Leah G, coming to you live from my apartment in Minneapolis, where my cat, Bartholomew, is currently trying to… lick a running blender? Okay, that’s a problem for… future Leah. This week has been a WEEK. You ever have one of those where you forget to eat until like, 4 PM, and then you just stand in front of the fridge eating shredded cheese out of the bag like a goblin? No? Just me? Cool, cool, cool. Anyway, my point is, it was a week that required some… specific herbal assistance. And I found something that I am genuinely, deeply obsessed with, and I cannot wait to tell you about it. So let’s get into it. (Slight shift in tone, more focused but still energetic) Alright, so for this week’s review, I ventured out to Legacy Cannabis. It’s a great little spot on Lyndale, super friendly staff who don’t make you feel like a moron for asking questions. And I went in looking for something to just kinda… shut the brain goblins up for a minute, you know? And I found it. It’s called Alien Rock Candy. First of all, amazing name. Ten out of ten. It’s an indica-dominant hybrid, so you’re getting that nice, cozy body feeling without immediately turning into a fossil on your couch. The effects are… okay, you know that feeling when you finally take your hair down after it’s been in a ponytail all day? It’s like that, but for your entire skeleton. Just a full-body sigh of relief. But what’s really wild is the smell. It’s not your typical weed smell. It smells like… if you were at a fancy hotel, and they left a weirdly specific bowl of potpourri made of, like, sour lemon peels and maybe a single, very confused rose petal, and then someone in the next room over spilled a bottle of pepper. It’s citrusy and a little spicy, but in a way that makes you keep wanting to smell it. The taste is kinda similar, very bright and a little earthy. It’s weird, but it’s a good weird. This is the perfect strain for when you need to do something creative but low-stakes. I spent three hours rearranging the books on my bookshelf by color, and it was the most satisfying, zen experience of my entire month. So if you’re looking to de-stress and make some questionable but aesthetically pleasing organizational choices, I highly recommend Alien Rock Candy from Legacy Cannabis. (A beat of silence, then a sigh) So. Speaking of questionable choices. On Tuesday, I decided I was going to be a person who makes their own bread. Why? Absolutely no reason. I just woke up and chose violence, I guess. So I find this no-knead recipe online, seems simple enough. I mix all the stuff together in a bowl, this sticky, horrifying glob of flour and water. The recipe says to let it rise for 12 to 18 hours. Perfect. I stick it on top of the fridge, because I read somewhere that it’s warm up there, and I go to bed feeling very domestic and capable. Fast forward to the next afternoon. I had completely, utterly forgotten about the dough. I’m making coffee, and Bartholomew is just staring, laser-focused, at the top of the fridge. He’s not a big jumper, so I’m like, what is your deal, my furry little dude? And then I see it. The dough… has escaped. It has more than doubled in size, it has breached the confines of the bowl, and it is slowly, menacingly, oozing down the side of my refrigerator like something out of a sci-fi movie. It was a dough glacier. A dough-cier, if you will. It took me forty-five minutes to scrape this sticky, fermented monster off my fridge, all while Bartholomew watched, judging me, I’m sure. The worst part? I still tried to bake what was left in the bowl. It came out looking and feeling like a fossilized frisbee. So, yeah. That was my week. (Slight pause, then a sharp inhale) Okay, you know what I’ve been thinking about this week? And I have a very, very strong opinion on this. Why do we, as a society, accept the phrase “I could care less”? It’s wrong. It’s fundamentally, grammatically, spiritually wrong. Think about it. If you *could* care less, that implies you have some level of care left to give. You’re saying there is a capacity for caring that you have not yet exhausted. The phrase is “I *couldn’t* care less.” As in, I have reached the absolute basement level of not caring. My caring well is dry. There is not a single drop of care left to give. It drives me absolutely bonkers. It’s like saying “Yeah, I could be more quiet.” No! You couldn’t be more quiet! You’re at maximum quiet! It’s the little things, you know? The tiny little fractures in our language that reveal the chaos underneath. People just walking around, saying they *could* care less about things they clearly despise. It’s a lie! A bald-faced, grammatically incorrect lie! And I, for one, will not stand for it. It’s “couldn’t.” End of rant. (Music starts to fade back in) Alright, that is all the time I have for this week, my friends. Thank you for letting me occupy your earholes for a little while. Next week, I’m going to be reviewing something that smells like it came from another dimension, so you’re not gonna want to miss that. For real, actual, non-chaotic Minnesota cannabis news and updates, please go check out the folks at MN Cannabis Hub. They do great work. Until next time, stay safe, make good choices, and for the love of all that is holy, check on your bread dough. This is Leah G, signing off. (Outro music swells and fades out)

This week, host Leah G reviews LKF Egg Roll, a hybrid cannabis strain with 19.2% THC, purchased from Minnesota Canna in Edina. She shares her experience with its unique sweet and sour sauce aroma and creative, low-stakes effects, including a hilarious mishap involving a ground beef and apple pie tater tot hotdish. Key Highlights: • Leah G reviews LKF Egg Roll, a hybrid cannabis strain with 19.2% THC from Minnesota Canna. • The LKF Egg Roll strain boasts a bizarre yet captivating aroma reminiscent of sweet and sour sauce with earthy undertones. • Experience the strain's true hybrid effects, perfect for low-stakes creative activities like crocheting or contemplating dust. • Leah recounts a hilarious cooking disaster, accidentally making a ground beef and apple pie tater tot hotdish while under the strain's influence. Topics: LKF Egg Roll, hybrid strain, Minnesota Canna, Edina, THC 19.2%, cannabis review, podcast, Leah G, tater tot hotdish, cooking mishap, creative effects, MN Cannabis Hub, Minneapolis --- TRANSCRIPT (Upbeat, slightly chaotic synth intro music plays for 10 seconds, then fades into the background) What is UP, my highly recommended people, and welcome back to the podcast. It’s your host, Leah G, coming to you live from my slightly-too-warm apartment in Minneapolis. My cat, Bartholomew, has been on a real tear this week. He learned how to open the cupboard where I keep the rice, and for three days straight, I’d just randomly find single grains of rice in my shoes. In my bed. One was in my hair. I have no idea what his endgame is, but honestly? I respect the commitment to chaos. It’s a lifestyle. Anyway, that’s the kind of week it’s been. The kind of week where you just need something to… smooth out the edges, you know? Which brings us to this week’s main event. I ventured out into the world, mask on, ready for an adventure, and I found something that just called to me from the dispensary menu. It’s a name that’s so weird, so specific, I had to have it. This week, we are talking about a hybrid strain called LKF Egg Roll. Yes. Egg. Roll. I got it over at Minnesota Canna, which is technically in Edina, but it’s, like, right there. Close enough for our purposes. So, Egg Roll is a hybrid, and it’s got a THC percentage of 19.2%. So, respectable. Not gonna send you to another dimension against your will, but definitely gets the job done. Now, the smell. This is where it gets wild. You’d think, "Egg Roll," okay, it’s gonna be savory, maybe like… cabbage? No. Not at all. It smells like sweet and sour sauce. Like, that weirdly specific, bright orange sauce you get in the little plastic packets. There’s this sharp, citrusy, almost tangy thing happening, but underneath it, there’s this earthy, kinda doughy smell. It’s bizarre and I am absolutely obsessed with it. The taste is less "egg roll" and more just… pleasantly sweet and a little bit peppery on the exhale. The effects are a true hybrid. It hits you right behind the eyes at first, this little wave of "hello, I am now stoned," and everything feels a little brighter, a little funnier. But it doesn’t get racy. It just kinda… settles. It’s the perfect strain for doing something creative that doesn’t require, you know, intense focus. I spent three hours last night trying to teach myself how to crochet a tiny hat for Bartholomew. I have not successfully crocheted a tiny hat for Bartholomew. What I have is a weird, lumpy circle of yarn and a very happy memory of watching a single dust bunny float through a sunbeam for ten minutes. So, yeah. Pairs well with low-stakes crafting and contemplating dust. Go find LKF Egg Roll at Minnesota Canna. Tell them Leah G sent you. They won’t know who that is. This brings me to a story from Tuesday. So, I’d just enjoyed a little bit of said Egg Roll, and I decided it was the perfect time to make my grandma’s famous hotdish. Tater tot hotdish. A Minnesota classic. It’s not complicated. It’s ground beef, cream of mushroom soup, some veggies, cheese, tater tots on top. A culinary masterpiece. I’ve made it a hundred times. So I’m vibing, I’ve got my music on, I’m browning the beef. I reach into the pantry for the cream of mushroom. Grab a can. Plop it in. Stir it all up, put it in the dish, layer the tater tots on top like a beautiful, starchy mosaic. Into the oven it goes. I’m feeling like a domestic goddess. Forty-five minutes later, the timer goes off. The tots are golden brown. My apartment smells… weird. Not bad, just… sweet. Really sweet. I’m thinking, man, this Egg Roll strain is really messing with my senses. I pull out the hotdish, and it’s bubbling, it looks perfect. I scoop a big portion onto my plate, take a huge bite, and… it’s apple pie. I had grabbed a can of apple pie filling instead of cream of mushroom soup. I made a ground beef and apple pie tater tot hotdish. And the worst part? The absolute worst part is that for a solid ten seconds, my stoned brain was like, "You know… it’s not… terrible?" The sweet and the savory… maybe I’m a genius? I took a second bite just to be sure. It was, in fact, terrible. It was an abomination. Bartholomew wouldn’t even look at it. So I ordered a pizza. And I learned a valuable lesson about organizing my pantry. Or maybe the lesson is that I shouldn't be allowed to cook unsupervised. Jury’s still out. Okay, I need to get something off my chest. We, as a society, need to stop saying "no worries." It’s a lie. It’s a fundamental lie. Someone bumps into you and goes "Oh, sorry!" and you say "no worries." Worries? Of course not, why would I be *worried*? Annoyed? Maybe. Mildly inconvenienced for a fraction of a second? Sure. But worried? Were you concerned I was going to crumble into a pile of dust because you grazed my elbow? It’s the same energy as "no problem." Oh, you thought it might be a *problem*? You thought holding the door for two extra seconds was going to derail my entire day? It’s this weird, passive-aggressive, low-key dismissive phrase. What happened to a good, old-fashioned "you’re welcome" or "it’s all good"? "No worries" implies a baseline level of anxiety that I just do not have about 99% of daily human interactions. Stop telling me not to worry about things I was never, ever going to worry about. It’s linguistic clutter. It’s filler. Let’s bring back sincerity. Or at least, like, a simple "you’re good." Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. Alright, that’s all the time I’ve got for you this week, my friends. I need to go figure out if I can salvage that casserole dish or if I have to burn it in a ritual sacrifice. Next week, I’m going to review something that smells like it came from another dimension, a place where flowers are made of gasoline and fruit. It’s gonna be a trip. In the meantime, for the real, actual, grown-up news about the cannabis scene here in Minnesota, you should be checking out the MN Cannabis Hub. They’re the pros. I’m just a chaos agent with a microphone. Be good to each other, stay hydrated, and give your pets a little smooch for me. Bye! (Upbeat synth music fades back in and plays to finish)

Stoner comedy podcast with Leah G. Product reviews, strain recs, and good vibes. Find everything MN cannabis at mncannabishub.com.