I’ve fallen prey to Chemmy Jones not once, not twice, but three times now. I can’t help myself, and neither can my nose. Those gas fumes keep fooling me, like some sort of horticultural hormone.

Chemmy Jones actually hails from the United Kingdom, where Connoisseur Seeds created the buzzing hybrid. Some online descriptions call it a “functional” strain, but I strongly disagree.

Your boy got a big new TV for Christmas. She’s a real beaut, with all the apps. So many that I feel like a king, conquering the cable swine with my ability to use other people’s Dish and Xfinity accounts to watch cheesy action movie after cheesy action movie. Muscles, explosions and one-liners from Cruise, Stallone and Schwarzenegger. Give them to me. Now. With a blunt of Beijinho.

A Portuguese term for “baby kiss” or “little kiss,” the word “beijinho” is also associated with a Brazilian birthday candy made with coconut. I first found the strain on a hung-over Sunday morning, while wearing a sheen of self-regret and my clothes from the night before. A gentle kiss sounded like exactly what my lungs needed. Beijinho was sold to me as a 50/50 hybrid, bred from pure Afghani and Thai landraces for a simple yet effective high and delicious Durban-like flavor with a salty back end.

I can’t be the only person who instantly thinks of Family Matters the minute Purple Urkle makes an appearance on a dispensary shelf. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m in the majority.

The history behind the fruity, tranquilizing indica’s name is cloudy. The prevailing theory is that Purple Urkle was named for the strain’s potent high, which often leads to bumping into walls, irritating behavior and falling and not being able to get up — all hallmarks of everyone’s favorite nerdy annoyance in the ’90s, Steve Urkel.

Don’t start talking cereal with a stoner unless you want to go down an annoying rabbit hole as you discuss the differences between Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Golden Grahams. We may seem laid-back, but when it comes to cereal, we have opinions — and nothing tops the Cap’n.

You know something’s great when you disregard the pain it brings, and I’ll take the razor-like cuts on the roof of my mouth every morning if it means I also get a bowl of Cap’n Crunch — any kind. I’ve even had Cap’n Crunch beers, thanks to Black Bottle Brewery’s Cerealiously line of stouts, as well as a Cap’n Crunchberries Slurpee at 7-Eleven. Both were delicious, and, yes, I was fried when I tried them. So when I saw a jar of frosty buds labeled “Crunch Berry” during a recent pot-shop visit, my mouth started salivating like Homer Simpson’s at the sight of doughnuts.

I like to think I’m a pretty hip guy. My beard’s trimmed, I get most of the shit on Saturday Night Live. My memes are fresh. And when something starts attracting adulation, I want to find out why. So after visiting the third dispensary in a row with a jar of Mandarin Cookies, I decided to stick my hand inside and smell the commotion. Spoiler alert: It’s worth the hype.