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Super Boof. What a name, right? Sounds like something your cousin yells before doing a cannonball into a motel pool. But nah—this isn’t about splash zones or summer chaos. We’re talking cannabis seeds. Loud ones. Loud as hell.
These seeds? They grow into something that smells like a fruit stand exploded inside a gas station. Cherry funk, diesel breath, and something weirdly creamy—like a melted push-pop left in a glovebox. It’s not subtle. It doesn’t want to be. Super Boof hits the nose like it owes you money.
I’ve grown it. Twice. First time was a mess—overfed it, got cocky, ended up with fluffy buds that looked like they’d been chewed on by squirrels. Still smoked great, though. Second run? Dialed in. Dense, sticky, like someone dipped a pinecone in syrup and rolled it in orange zest. The kind of nugs you don’t want to break up because they’re too damn pretty.
Genetics? It’s a cross—Black Cherry Punch and Tropicana Cookies. But honestly, who cares? Lineage only matters until you light it. After that, it’s all about the ride. And Super Boof doesn’t cruise. It launches. Head high first—like your brain’s trying to float out your ears. Then the body catches up. Heavy. Warm. Couch becomes quicksand. You’ll start a sentence and forget how it ends. Or why it started.
Yields? Decent. Not massive. But what you get is quality. Trichomes like frost on a windshield. Smells up the whole room during cure—neighbors might start asking questions. Or knocking. Depends on the neighborhood.
It’s not beginner-friendly. Not really. Needs attention. Likes stable environments, hates swings in humidity. Gets bushy too—like, jungle bushy. You’ll be pruning like a maniac if you don’t train it early. But if you treat it right? Damn. It’ll love you back.
And the high . . . it’s weirdly social. Makes you giggly, talkative, then suddenly quiet. Like your brain just wandered off mid-conversation. Great for music. Terrible for spreadsheets. Don’t try to be productive. Just don’t.
Would I grow it again? Already got more seeds in the fridge. So yeah. Super Boof’s not just a funny name—it’s a whole vibe. Funky, loud, a little chaotic. Like your favorite dive bar. Or your weirdest friend. The one who always shows up late but brings the best snacks.
Anyway. If you’re looking for something clean, mellow, polite—look elsewhere. Super Boof doesn’t whisper. It shouts. And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.