A Nostalgic Treat With Some Sci-Fi Escapism
It's basically everything a kid in a grown up's body could ask for.
One thing I hate about aging is how protective I have to be about my body. I spent a large part of my youth (and let's be real, adulthood, too) pouring candy down my throat like it was gasoline and I was a Hummer driven by a suburban mom. All that sugar adds up and diabetes runs in my family because, honestly, we’re pretty average Americans. Also, I like my teeth and want to keep them, so for most of my 30s I’ve strictly limited my run-ins with corner store bodega candy. When I do find a special occasion to indulge in a shared bag of Lik-M-Aid or a handful of Cherry Bombs, I’m far more likely to enjoy said treats when they are dosed with cannabis. I may not huff daily blunts or chug Lemonheads anymore, but when I can find a way to elevate the vices of my youth to a level more becoming of a grown-ass woman, you can bet I go ham. Adulthood is all about balance y’all.
“This medicated reinterpretation is spot-friggin-on.”
It was the candy-obsessed youth inside me that delighted at the opportunity to appraise Junk’s Juicy Watermelon Dynamites. And just as my expert candy mouth predicted, Junk’s Juicy Watermelon Dynamites don’t taste much like watermelon or dynamite, but neither did their predecessor, Pop Rocks. Everyone knows candy of this nature is either blue, pink, or purple-flavored. This particular handful of pastel sugar gravel was pink-flavored. The aroma was nothing but nostalgia without a trace of skunky cannabis fragrance. It was all candy all day, and as a true lifelong fan of the original Pop Rocks, I can confidently say this medicated reinterpretation is spot-friggin-on.
So, y’all remember Pop Rocks right? You pour them on your tongue, they fizz and pop like crazy, your friends put their ears up to your mouth to hear the cacophony of frothing sugar—it’s all great fun. Junk’s Dynamites live up to the expectation. I poured a scoopful (using the provided spoon) on my tongue, salivated, and activated the popping crystals. Just like I remembered, this was more candy-as-performance than candy for candy’s sake. But I am extra, so I loved every second of it. I made everyone near me come close and listen to my open mouth pop and sputter as tiny candy crystals exploded on my tongue.
Amidst all the fun, I’d forgotten how disturbing this candy’s residue was. Once the majority of the crystals died down, I felt a good five minutes of lingering clicks and pops in the valleys of my mouth, abruptly exploding mid-sentence a few times. It’s all part of the experience, I suppose. Once the rest of the candy had dissolved, I had about 45 minutes to burn before I would begin to feel the first effects. I thought I’d kill the time with a phone call to a friend. At the 45-minute mark, our conversation turned to the newest IPCC report on climate change (holy shit it’s so bad you guys), which took our light, joyful chat to a dark and macabre place. It was in these moments that I began to feel the effects of the popping candies.
“A true stoner adventure complete with a springy body high and a mind-opening head high.”
I could have easily succumbed to the worst of this gloomy reality—I should note my girl works for the government, specifically in the science of reversing climate change at the county and state level—but the candy landed me in a kind of buzzy, meditative chill. We hung up and I went for a ambitious walk. Instead of imaging the world going up in flames, I spent the rest of the day thinking about how much algae and mycelium love to munch on carbon waste. I thought about cloud seeding in Abu Dhabi and Dubai and how that costs a fraction of what we as a nation spend on defense. I thought about extraterrestrial life and how we’re most likely just a cosmic experiment. I also threw in a thought about how the singularity lines up well with our point-of-no-return date. For the better part of the rest of the day I felt bouncy and hopeful, which, if you've read the IPCC report, you may understand how remarkable a reaction that was. I thank Junk’s Dynamites for this bit of science fiction escapism, a true stoner adventure complete with a springy body high and a mind-opening head high.
When we were kids, candy served the specific purpose of making us happy. As an adult, it’s a little harder to escape into a box of brightly colored sugar, what with all of our grown-ass responsibilities and impending extinction. Junk’s Watermelon Dynamites took me right back to a safe childhood space where superheroes are real, the future is not carved in stone, and anything is possible. Yep, this candy was able to do all that while containing a modest 2.5mg of THC per heaping spoonful—a dose that’s easy to dole out using the small spoon provided in the package. The serving suggestion is two heaping spoonfuls, and it’s a very easy high to build up. It also nicely supports a few puffs from a vape or joint as the high develops. I’d use it before hitting the gym (though that much sugar may be counterproductive to some) for the zippy body high and unfettered thought propulsion. Or simply knock back a couple spoonfuls when the weight of the world drags you down and you need to escape into your own mind to sort a few things out.