An example of Dawg's Waltz from a Colorado dispensary. (Ry Prichard, The Cannabist)

Dawg’s Waltz (marijuana review)

Dawg's Waltz would be much more suited to zoning out to a movie than being a productive adult.

Smoking “Poodle Nuts” sounds like some dystopian Food Network programming for a barbecue I hope I’m never invited to. Yet, in the world of cannabis, this is a prized cut of Dawg’s Waltz.

The strain, which takes its name from a David Grisman song, was a collaboration between a breeder called “High & Lonesome” and Top Dawg Seeds that made its way to another grower called “forty” who selected the “nuts.” If you’re trying to figure out which part of that sentence I made up to make sure you were paying attention, the answer is none. Welcome to the weird world of weed.

By the numbers: $14/gram, $225/ounce at Good Meds, 8420 W. Colfax Ave. in Lakewood.

I haven’t tackled any Purple Urkel descendants since my first review for The Cannabist, Grandaddy Purple — mostly because it leaves me as disoriented as Stefan Urquelle transitioning back to your garden variety Steve. (Ah, ’90s TV nostalgia.) This smart cross with Tres Dawg provides much more mental acuity, though, and another dimension to the one-note grape in just the Urkel. The beneath-the-sink chemical notes fight the vine-ripened scents well, like cleaning up after one of the Real Housewives of Anywhere. Ranging from Grimace-level purps to a Rockies home jersey accented look, you’re better off using your nose than trying to identify it on sight alone.

Chem strains tend to give me frenetic energy, something I needed desperately as I prepared for a couple of out-of-state dates for another project: our comedy game show. I hate packing, usually opting to haphazardly toss everything in a suitcase at the last minute, but three hits of the Dawg’s Waltz had me organizing with intention. Whereas Grandaddy Purple was more of a mentally numbing experience, the balanced hybrid nature of this high was incredibly focused as I rounded up necessities.

Due to some quirks in the layout of our house, we’re stuck with a full mattress in our upstairs that is exactly as long as I am tall. This week, that meant I had contorted my pillow in a way that my neck firmly disagreed with. With a little Waltz, however, the muscles loosened up and gave me a little more range of motion. Knowing that I’d be on an airplane and then sleeping in a strange (and hopefully larger) bed in the next week, I’ll take any respite from the pain.

Then, out of nowhere, the crash. Deciding to take a quick break to check my e-mail, I found myself lost in NFL draft news and Facebook notifications. Thirty minutes later and my future suitcase contents were staring at me from the bed, a week of outfits that simply needed to be moved a few feet. After an hour, my eyes felt as heavy as my body, but my clothes had formed a blockade that had to be dealt with. My best intentions wound up heaped on my carry-on, hoping the AirBnB had a nice ironing board.

Combining the strong, cerebral effects of Tres Dawg with the couchlock of Purple Urkel seems like something they’d incorporate into the Ludovico technique in “A Clockwork Orange.” As I wasn’t expecting my furniture to grow invisible tendrils to tether me, Dawg’s Waltz would be much more suited to zoning out to a movie than being a productive adult. If only I could smoke some on my flight.