Watch me enjoy a smoke while I check my emails and text my friends. My ashtray is seated on the floor next to my chair w/ his hand out and mouth open, patiently awaiting my my ash. I completely ignore and treat him as an inanimate object. He does not speak or move and I never acknowledge him as anything more than a receptacle. He is not even allowed to gaze upon the puffs of thick white smoke as they pour out from my full lips. Enjoy, Elena De Luca