His polluting laughter is still ringing in my deafened ears. His antics on road still shakes my laughters crazy and I get a tingle everytime he smiles. He complains about protruding veins in his arms but I fancy them perfect the way they are. He does his turnings and admits he's a know-nothing at handling women with cramps. Cheese smeared all over his mouth draws a certain lining across my face called a smile. He makes me wish I had a snap of camera shot of every silly stunt he pulls. His constant harping of my addiction to mochi mochi amplifies my little big voice and makes me feel understood. He - my wonderful Bobby B.