It was never really a question. In the nineteen nineties, I was in love with Gwyneth Paltrow. It was a torrid love affair that never had a chance to manifest cuz that bastard Chris Martin swooped in and snatched her up and gave her a baby. (Just playing, CM. Love your music.)
Then along came Angelina. She was never really my type. I mean, of course vivacious sexy women are any mans type, but I've always had an infinity for that everlasting kinda love. This was a concession I was willing to make on her behalf, but I shuffled my feet and had to watch Brad work his Adonis thing on her and create what potentiality may be the world's first perfect child.
But if I am looking at these two ladies as moms from a kids perspective it's a toss up. You got the earthy, serious actor, Shakespearean vs the sultry, world traveling, Ambassador.
If I was to be one of their children, I'd have to go with Gwyn.
That way I could grow up, be homies with Maddox and date his sister, Shiloh.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment