Anthony smells like soap. Anthony thinks I'm funny. I can run full tilt at Anthony and slam into him and he doesn't even notice. When I see Anthony, I feel happy. And, with this sentence, in which I say Anthony one last time, I have basically replicated the dialogue of a David Mamet play.

brains...BRAINS

Your love is sweet gay pain.

you are a small bit of genious on a quickly rotation sphere of hot mud. i swear you must be a little dizzy.

Meeting this lovely at the Box is like being handed a million dollars because you don't deserve it.

Thanks Ben.

Anthony, some day I hope I will know you well.

This guy deserves two testimonials.
This isn't the second.

one day anthony asked me to get out of his dreams, and get into his trunk....and i did.
too bad he drives '89 ford taurus so theres no release latches in the trunk.

Remember back in the early eighties when the Challenger Shuttle Disaster left a scar on the heart of the American psyche? I remember it clearly. I was in the third grade, we had just finished recess and were informed about the fact that those seven brave souls had given their lives in sacrifice, that we may better understand our solar system and the universe in general.

Well, soon afterward the jokes began. "What does NASA stand for?", a friend asked? With a look of puzzlement on my face, I replied, "I dunno." "Need Another Seven Astronauts", he said, laughing 'til he peed hisself.

Anthony is like that joke. Anthony is like the first time I found the loss of human life to be rip-roaringly humorous. Anthony. "Need Another Seven Astronauts". Fucking hell, that's funny.