I know. I have a problem. This is supposed to be recreational. Most mooks don’t understand what recreational means, let alone try to apply it in their lives. Our abusive nature pushes us to constantly indulge in the things we love, without ever thinking about it twice. Being reasonable is out of the question. I’m stoned off my ass and these cookies are tasty as fuck, so I’m gonna go HAM and smash the whole box in less then 69 seconds. These things go hand-in-hand. You smoke too much, then you get the munchies and you eat too much. Very healthy lifestyle. On top of it all, we live in a part of the world where the food is extremely diverse and the weed is insanely cheap, considering the fact that you are smoking top-of-the-line Cannabis Cup winners all year round. Yes, I know that we are very spoiled but what can I say? My parents went through a lot of shit, immigrating from two fucked up countries so I can drop out of high school, do graffiti, smoke weed and enjoy the free world. I understand how lucky I am and I take full advantage of it. I dedicate this post to my loving parents who left everything they knew so that their son can enjoy a different strain every day of the week, eat like a boss and talk all sorts of shit without the fear of getting killed or put in prison. Thank you mom and dad.

There ain’t much to eat in my kitchen these days, but the toots roster is phenomenal. Seven strains, one for each day of the week, ’cause every day has its own flavor. Let’s test these bitches out and see whats really poppin’ in the city these days.

First day of testing, we hit the countryside. The rich colorways in the forest at this time of year is breathtaking. Sure as hell beats looking at fighter jets and military helicopters flying over bare desert hills all day.

The first strain I tested was the Mazar. Many say it’s the new version of the former Afghan/Skunk, but I wouldn’t know since I never tried the first strain in the first place. All I know is that these buds were sexy as fuck. Almost didn’t want to smoke it… Who am I kidding?

Hairy like a Persian woman, blonde like a Scandinavian vixen, nice and chunky like a Puerto Rican mami from the Bronx. Sounds perfect, don’t it?

Not sure whether it was the boat ride, the fresh air or the lavish scenery but after a few pipe hits, I was relaxed as a motherfucker. This Indica strain definitely delivers but is not on top of my list, far as Indicas go. Taste was a bit sour and the smoke was smooth. No scratchy throat effect. Kind of reminded me of bamboo shoots. That fresh green taste with a hint of citrus.

Man, do I love getting high in the forest. Sure as hell beats nuclear wastelands and mine fields. Thanks mom and dad.

It’s a tradition. Every time we go to the sticks, it’s a must we stop at one of the road side poutine shacks. This is where the realest poutines can be found. I know many of you can relate.

If you see that the spot has a specialty they are known for, do yourself a big favor and get it. More often than not, it’s going to be on point.

Just our luck. They were out of cheese curds. I still took the house specialty: a poutine with minced meat and onions. I was with my cousin from Rimouski and, needless to say, he knows a thing or two about poutine. Even though they used shredded mozzarella instead of the traditional cheese curds, it was honestly one of the best poutines I’ve ever had. Sure beats eating Matza and Sauerkraut for weeks on end.

The next day, I went on a little solo painting session at TA and I brought the Kali Mist with me for the test drive. Some people say it is one of the top Sativa strains you can get but from my experience, I don’t find the claims to be accurate. Don’t get me wrong: the Kali Mist was nothing short of sweet, but it didn’t deliver that deeper mental stimulation like some of these newer Sativas. It didn’t smell very strong, although it was very pleasant to the touch. Nice and grainy, compact but not completely rock hard. The smoke was well-digested but had nothing particular or outstanding about it.

All I can say is that I took a few hits and I was well into my painting for two hours before I noticed that I was completely sober again. For some, this is a good thing. It’s an indication that the weed is clean and pure. Other mooks might want a bit more of a long lasting, punch-you-in-the-face type of high. For an activity such as painting, this was perfect. Sure as hell beats chilling in a bomb shelter with your whole family rocking gasmasks.

We might be living large compared to how things were back in the shitholes from which we came from, but sometimes a mook finna be a lazy-ass motherfucker and eat a bunch of junk food. Shout out to my grandma Nina, the H.N.I.C. of the fam. Still living trife on the holy land. I’m loving your coffee mug G-Ma. Hope to see you soon.

My parents don’t understand such things as eating pasta and shitty grilled cheese sandwiches. They say the it’s the type of shit you eat when you are broke and have nothing better. They kinda have a point, but sometimes a well-prepared grilled cheese or a bowl of KD is therapeutic for the soul. Humbles you down and makes you enjoy the simple things.

Some mooks throw sugar in their cereal, I add chocolate chips. Much more ganaster.

What happens when Purple Kush fucks the Mazar? You get the Dark Star. Again, you’d think that it would be some next level shit, but it has more bag appeal than anything, as far as smell and overall exoticism are concerned.

From what I can remember, the Dark Star was very average. Taste was OK. The high was decent, but one thing I must point out is that it really gave me the munchies. If you have AIDS or something that shuts down your appetite, this strain is a winner. Ask Mooksy about it. The mook ate a six-pack of Ponki to himself.

Y’all might wonder what a Ponki is. It’s the Polish version of the doughnut. Truly delicious and filling. Three of these and you might want to take a little weed nap right after. I fucks with these all day. The prune-filled ones are my favorite.

I know many mooks are scared of gays and never want to even walk through the Battiman Village, but yo, there are some dope grub spots out there, no homo. One of them is Café Saigon. The waiters are flamers and they don’t speak any English or French, but the food is always on point. This chicken curry soup is dynamite. It’s richer than Richard Branson. I’ll take this over pickled Herring and boiled potatoes any day.

On the fourth day I busted out the Sour Cream. This Sativa combines some of North America’s most popular blends into one near-perfect strain. The Sour Diesel mother and G-13/Haze father really made a nice baby. I’m a big fan of both the sour and the cream varieties so to have them in one plant is genius.

My man Guilty was the judge on this one. We had two spliffs going, one of Kush and the Sour Cream. The difference between the two was quite dramatic. Very soft smoke, with a distinct Diesel fuel taste that leaves a sour tinge on the tongue. The high was smooth and packed an energetic kick to the deal. Overall, this was the most enjoyable strain so far, after the Mazar. I must say: this is way cooler then doing obligatory military service.

This Korean fetish I have is a very recent development. For some reason, Korean cuisine never appealed to me. Maybe it’s because most of the Koreans I know are total fucking weirdos, but recently I’ve been hitting this spot up on Claremont in Westmount on the regular. They have tons of awesome shit, like this beef brisket soup that comes in a hot pot with noodles, a variety of veggies and a raw egg on top. They also give you tons of pickled goodies, like Kimchi and other Korean staples. Definite win.

This is something I like to do when I have the opportunity. Stuff a bowl all nice and compact and throw a couple of bits of hash on top. The hash just keeps burning away through the weed so you can keep puffing for a good five minutes before you have to use the lighter again.

I done finished my glass of OJ and this shit was far from over. I must point out that I was not a big fan of smoking out of pipes before. Something to do with feeling like a crackhead. I got this one-of-a-kind custom piece from my dude at The Bodhi Tree in Orlando and I cut down on spliffs in the house by at least 69%. Much love my dude, I see you baby!

On the fifth day, I busted out the infamous Purple Kush. This is what every other stoner fuck in North America dreams about. Definitively one of the most popular strains of our generation. The Purple Kush brand name is huge. Many places have adopted it as a staple and I understand why. It ain’t hard to see the appeal in this bitch. For Christ’s sake, this chunky lady is light green and purple with hints of burnt orange popping from her leafy underskirt, smothered in a glaze of amber trichomes. Not only does she look good, she smells and tastes accordingly as well. How could you not want to hit it?

Wrapped her up in a chocolate Phillie and, all of a sudden, we are too hood for the fucking gay-ass Occupy Montreal gathering happening at the moment. All sorts of offended faces looking at us like we are out here masturbating in public.

I know you can smell this shit from a mile away but, bitch, get off my nuts already. Can’t you see I’m trying to enjoy myself at this ridiculous event? Why do you have to come and give me a lecture about it being a drug-free peaceful protest and all sorts of grief that I ain’t trying to hear? You’re out here crying about being in this 99% that gets fucked over and you are trying to be an authority on me by imposing these ridiculous rules of not smoking weed during the occupation. This bitch must be crazy.

As soon as the high hit me, this horrible feeling sunk in about what is going on with this whole occupation thing. Fuck, I came here from Israel. Talk about occupation: I’ve participated in the most hated one so far. The type of occupation where people smash your crib with a bulldozer and build their own house on top. I ain’t with this occupying business, to tell you the truth. I simply could not take some of these clowns seriously.

We all know that there are people out there who control everything and don’t give a shit about us. It ain’t no fucking mystery, let me tell you that. This has been going on for a very long time. The few times in our history when the People actually took power and overthrew their oppressors, it involved public executions and hardcore violence, something these nice college students are just not ready for. Truth is: we’re comfortable out here and nobody is angry enough to climb up those glass towers in order to drag those bastards out with a knife to the throat to be executed in public and broadcasting it live for the world to see. The people that did Gaddafi were angry as fuck. Did you see that video? Yeah, I doubt any of these nice people will be pulling that shit any time soon. All they want to do is make a corny protest song and take flicks to share on Facebook.

This place was infested with urban worriers, concerned mothers and a never-ending sea of hipsters. None of them looked angry. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Despite the large number of humans attending, the people-watching was not all that great. Mostly, this dude walking around with a a smile on his face. Why are you so happy, bud? Act like you are part of this 99%, goddamn it.

At least some people are protesting in style.

Looks like pirates are not happy about being in this 99% either. For fuck’s sake, it’s Friday afternoon, don’t these clowns have jobs? I didn’t see one immigrant family in this bitch. I guess they are too busy working, trying to provide for their families. They ain’t got time to waste at these events.

на хуй!!! Means go fuck yourself in Russian. I could not put it any better. Maybe I see it differently since I’m not originally from here but last I checked, 99% of the population on this earth would give it all away just to get a chance at a new life out here. I know that my parents did. Thanks guys! This occupation jam sure as hell beats standing in a mall all day with a Uzi, checking people’s shopping bags for bombs. Tron and I had enough of this shit, so we decided to go catch a bite somewhere to cheer us up.

It’s funny to see some of these protesters walk into the Five Guys cheeseburger franchise after you seen them chant some anti-corporate love songs two minutes ago. I guess they got tired. I don’t blame them.

The cool side of this place is that you get to eat a bunch of peanuts while a team assembles your cheeseburger, factory style.

The down side of it is that you end up paying $14.55 for a double cheeseburger trio. Grosse crosse, G.

I’m not gonna front: this cheeseburger hit the spot. The best way to describe Five Guys is as a baller version of Wendy’s. Fries are on point, the burger was everything you would expect it to be, but definitely not worth 15$ for a stinking trio.

Some people like to sleep in public, I like to eat in public. It’s a lot more entertaining. There is something to observe, more then just other people stuffing their faces with food. This dude at the bus stop was pretty fresh.

You got to show respect to a man who still rocks a pocket watch. You got to be over 50 tho, or else you get hipster status.

Peace homie!

On the sixth day, Tron and I did a quick number on this Ice Cream.

This strain is a delight. Beautiful, compact buds that break up into light flakes of savory joy. Although not obvious, once squeezed, the aroma of sweet pine and milky vanilla tickles the nose. Smells like I walked into Ben & Jerry’s.

You get a two-for-one deal with this one. The high is a limbo between euphoria and physical disconnection. Good for people who don’t know which one they prefer.

Seems like a good deal, and variety was the theme of the day. This spot on De La Gauchetière in the middle of Chinatown has some of the cheapest treats this city has to offer.

It’s one of them spots that has those fake meals chilling in the front window on display. If you look inside, you will notice tons of different pastries and snacks, such as this butter roll and fried beef curry bun. Not only are they fucking delicious, they are also all under 1$. The type of place any mook can appreciate, so don’t sleep.

On the seventh day of my diet, I tested the legendary Power Plant. Hailing all the way from South Africa, this strain is a hybrid, with Sativa being the dominant between both parents.

The bud was drenched in trichomes, giving it a silver look and a super grainy, sandy feel. The smell was weird. Reminded me of star anise or black licorice. This weed is a heavy hitter.

The PP is even more potent than the PK but not nearly as enjoyable. After a small spliff, I felt grounded to the floor. However, some of these mooks started hovering on some David Blaine shit.

Chinatown snacks might hold you down, but this time the appetite was larger then life. We had to hit the revered Mon Nan. If you don’t know about Mon Nan, it’s probably because you are not a true All City Chilleur. It’s ok, Mook Life is here to put you on. Everyone says that they know thee best Chinese joint in Chinatown. I’m gonna put it like this: some places do certain dishes better then others, but overall, Mon Nan is hard to beat when it comes to quality, authenticity, vibe, service and price. It’s a sure shot that will never leave you disappointed. The more drunk you are and the later you go, the better the food is. At 2AM, the dishes start catching that extra flavor from all the other dishes cooked that day. The selection is phenomenal and the service is fast and friendly. This time, there was nothing but fried foods on the table. Salt-and-pepper seafood, Mongolian Beef, some sort of fried noodle and we tried this fried bread appetizer for the first time, which proved to be a winner. Honorable mentions are the Cantonese-style fried lobster or crab, salt-and-pepper pork chops and the world-famous Poulet Mayo, which is different from the other spots in Chinatown.

What have I learned from all this taste testing? I’ve learned that I can enjoy some Indicas just a much as the Sativas that I’m so dreadfully in love with. I must point out the outstanding Purple Kush. It’s truly a marvelous strain, enjoyable at any time of the day and suited for any occasion. I’m the first to hate on something that is overhyped, but the PK I had was simply phenomenal and deserves the hype that preceeded it. Shout out to Shpiegles for the hook up.

To be honest, I’m just happy that I live in a place like Montreal, where variety and diversity is celebrated. I’m happy that my loving parents chose to come here of all places. To all my immigrant stoners out there, please recognize how lucky you are and give props to you parents the next time you see them. To all you mooks who are born here and might not understand the privileges you have, take it from me. You’re better off here than anywhere else on this planet. Yeah, the people on top are assholes and fuck us over on the daily, but it’s up to us to find ways to fuck them over in return. You can start by not paying taxes and encouraging your local thieves by purchasing stolen goods. As much as I dream about things changing for the better with these protests, I doubt anything will ever come out of it. We are eternally doomed. The faster you can accept it, the more time you will have to enjoy the rest of your life. Some people want to cry about it, it’s their choice. I rather smoke weed and have a good meal with the homies.