Speaking of stereotypes...
I crave cigarettes.
I'm not a smoker but I crave them in every way.
I crave the smell of them.
I crave them in stressful moments.
I crave them in dark alleyways when I step out of the pub.
I *even* crave them as an 'artist'.
The petrol station down the road sells candy cigrarettes.
I know, I've seen them.
I propose this to myself.
I propose that I have a candy cigarette, three times a day, until the cravings go away.
I should even wear a beret.
And a fake moustache.
And carry my easel around.
*puts on raincoat*
*toddles off to the petrol station*
It's better than lung cancer and feeds into my wonk.