It smelled...delicious. Drink it! said something inside me (reasonably sure it wasn't the fetus). Drink it!! I resisted.
The next day, I used a brand new Sharpie to write an address on a package. Just one waft of the fumes made me want to crack that marker open and eat its contents like beef jerky. But I knew better than to do it, too messy!
Also, I've always liked the smell of gasoline, but lately when I smell it, I want to go into the mountains to find a gasoline river, dunk my refillable Big Gulp into its depths, then drink it like Indian Jones did from the Holy Grail in The Last Crusade. (He chose wisely).
What does this mean? I don't know. According to the many academic sources I researched (Wiki, WebMD) I have determined that it's not pica because pica makes people want to eat gross and flavorless things like dirt and chalk. Dirt and chalk? BOOORING. How much more hardcore can I get when I already want to drink lighter fluid? NOT MUCH. Go ahead and keep your clay, detergent, and quartz stones, whimps because like I said I don't have pica. I'll bet what I have is named something closer to HemiChainsawStevenSeagalBAMF Disorder. But that's not important. What's important is how much latex paint can I drink through this crazy straw before it could start to adversely affect my