The Astronaut

Flight Plan Overview

This isn’t the strain for cleaning the garage or finally learning French. Bred by Mycotek’s lab-coated wizards, The Astronaut is a 20 % THC, 100 % mission-to-mattress indica. Think of it as NASA’s early retirement package for your central nervous system—no launch window required, just a lighter and a healthy disrespect for productivity.

Effects: Houston, We Have a Problem (Staying Upright)

Expect a gravitational slingshot straight into the couch cushions. Limbs become optional, eyelids gain mass, and your inner monologue turns into elevator music. The comedown is so gentle it’s basically a weighted blanket made of stardust. Side effects include forgetting what you opened the fridge for and discovering you’ve been watching the same episode of Planet Earth for 47 minutes without blinking.

Flavor & Aroma: Terpene Spacewalk

Nose-dive into a pine forest that’s been freshly pepper-sprayed by Mother Nature. Earthy base notes smack you like wet soil, while citrus and berry undertones parachute in like emergency rations. The smoke is smoother than a SpaceX landing—no coughing unless you count the existential kind.

Growing Notes (For Earthbound Botanists)

Medium height, dense colas, and trichomes so thick you’ll need a windshield scraper. Flowering time is 8–9 weeks, yield is “respectable,” and the plant basically grows itself if you remember to water it and not stare at it for too long. Resists mold better than your leftover pizza and finishes with fist-sized nugs that look like they’ve been rolled in cosmic glitter.

Medical Uses (Doctor’s Orders: Couch Prescription)

Doctors won’t write this on an Rx pad, but insomniacs treat it like a bedtime story in nug form. Great for pain that laughs at ibuprofen, anxiety that feeds on daylight, and any stress level above “cat video.” Warning: may cause spontaneous REM sleep during Zoom calls.

Who Should Board This Capsule

Perfect for anyone whose daily to-do list includes ‘survive until bedtime.’ Not recommended for first dates, marathons, or operating heavy eyelids. Ideal user: the human equivalent of a weighted blanket who’s already wearing sweatpants and has zero intention of re-entering Earth’s atmosphere tonight.