they\'re not water bottles, they\'re babies
Beer is flowing, winding through art galleries in SoHo.
So different now.
I hardly remember what it was like to do these things without a little vomiting.
As fathers, when we were two gay, we still did everything we did, trying to travel the world for 32/34 and for a boy\'s 501.
I believe very much that our children live with us.
We don\'t live with them.
But don\'t get me wrong. . .
Will I run into the building on fire to save them? Sure.
Even though to be honest, I really hope that the fire is just beginning and I can cross the flame, grab the baby and leave the burning building without more than 10 minutes
The tiny tanning bed was red.
Would I get off one of the cars if they were stuck underneath? I hope so.
You see, I \'ve been secretly worried that I\'m a person who won\'t have an adrenaline surge, which will provide me with the supersonic power I need to lift the bus in the air and release my kids.
This is a terrible vision. . . Errrr. Ahhhh! Mmmmm. I can\'t.
I can\'t lift this damn bumper!
How do people do this? !
Maybe it was my coach\'s fault that I got into this dilemma.
We spent too much time on my hips and didn\'t have enough time to do the Romanian death elevator. Wait!
Maybe I can save my kids and lift the car up with my ass. No such luck.
A good dad can lift a 40-
Tons of cranes on their children\'s feet.
Now, I\'m never going to book \"gay bionic parents save twins\" again at opura, and my dear daughter is always flat-footed. . . literally.
We have never had to face any real danger since we became fathers, which is really lucky.
The only very strange place for us was the local park.
When we first came there was a very strange attack. celebrity-adjacent-lesbian-mom we know-ish.
She strolled up to me and spoke with her locked chin.
It\'s like this: Lesbian: Well, well, well. . . Look who\'s here. Me: Hi.
You chose the park right.
What do you mean?
Max, look around. . . I do.
The paparazzi paced around the playground like a group of hyenas.
Now back to talking to my lesbian friend.
Don\'t forget the things that lock your chin.
That\'s Sharon Stone\'s nanny.
The Girl on the rocking hippo is Hilo\'s best friend, and the twins are Marcia Cross\'s.
I think she\'s in the bathroom. . . Me: Wow. . . cool.
Lesbian: Don\'t say that.
You shouldn\'t think it\'s cool.
It should make you angry. Me: Okay. . .
Lesbian: \"razzi can\'t come to the park, but you are a fair game when you touch the road in the parking lot.
I said, that\'s too bad. I pushed my daughter.
Lesbian: No, your baby is not wearing well. Me: What?
Are you kidding?
Female: Honey velvet? !
It looks like it\'s at the premier center in Palm Beach.
I give you two words: Fred Siegel.
I also said two words for her, but I said to myself.
We decided to change the park.
Now, outdoor adventures mainly include wrapping up the girls in papooses and hiking up the Hollywood Hills.
This is a densely populated trail.
All types: gay, straight, young, old, and often a group of Orthodox Jewish mothers.
They wore wigs, Sketchers and prairie skirts on the mountain.
Sports clothing for Tevye\'s daughter.
When I saw a black bee covered figure a few weeks ago, we were hiking through the top of the trail
The breeder came to us.
As people get closer, I have to deal with a lot of information in a very short time.
My mind clicked the details in the following order :--
She\'s someone\'s ex. wife. --Porcelain skin. --A redhead. --
Dressed like a madman. --Doesn\'t sweat. --
How\'s she doing? --Gloves in 90-degree weather? --Big feet. --
She might be famous. --She is. She\'s a well-known actress. --Titanic!
She\'s no more than 5 feet away.
She wants to talk.
She had that look.
I have a strict policy on celebrities.
I call it \"dancing rules with Wolves\": always let them come to you.
Don\'t be close.
Don\'t make eye contact or try to feed them.
Sometimes it\'s OK to throw the snack in the famous wolf cage, but it has to be carbs only in rare cases --free.
However, it turns out that the actress is a happy person. adjusted wolf.
What she wants to say, this is what she said: She: Look! Me: Yeah. Her: So cool. Me: Thank you?
I have never seen such a water bottle. Me: Excuse me?
Your water bottle is so cute. Me: What?
Not those water bottles?
Me: You mean what you drink, water bottle? Her: Yes. Very funn-ny. (SING SONGY)Very creative.
They are babies! Her: (CONFUSED)I\'m sorry. . . Me: Babies.
They\'re my kids.
They\'re little girls. They\'re alive. Her: Oh, I. . .
Oh my God, they are real! ! !
Please add full banana in my description of said Wolf.
Yes, they are my daughters. Her: (
Call her companion)
Come here, Robert.
Not a water bottle.
This is a real piece of dialogue.
I still see her from time to time, and whenever I see her, I immediately break my \"dancing with Wolves\" rule. Me: Hi! Her: (CLIPPED)Hello.
She can\'t remember me.
She never does.
The wolf has no memory.
Your child is very cute.
They are not babies.
It\'s a water bottle.