The upper echelon of chronic herb. No stems. No seeds. Sticks to the bag. Sticks to your fingers. Smells like a pack of pissed off skunks. Gets you stoned to the bejeezus. Tastes great. Makes you crave food like a 35-day hunger striker. Skews what's left of your judgement. Impairs your ability to drive a stick shift, an automatic—or just stop watching Tenacious D & the Pick of Destiny and get off the couch. That's if you can still even see the t.v. And when it's gone you'll be texting your dealer for more. And he'll be texting you back...'I let you have that out of my own private stash. I ain't got any more of that shee'it, but i do have a little bit of this killer hash I brought back from Amsterdam if you think you can handle it.'
2. sticky or messy substances
2. After my family "cleans" the kitchen, I have to go back and clean all the gunga that they smeared around.