Poppa, can you hear me?

These aren't them, by the way. They just happen to be similarly baby-like.

Ricky Martin’s a dad.

S’true. And he did it the magic, no penis inside of vagina way, which we hear is all the rage. Or, as press officers like to call it, ‘gestational surrogacy’.

In other words, he white weed using stimulation in all likelihood of the non-female variety, did a merry little dance while the little fellas went about their binniz inside of a lady person, et voila! Two bambinos of the real-life kind for Ricky Martin to love, cherish and something else.

He is, and we quote, ‘happy’.

S’cute.

There’s more on the matter here, if one is inclined. There’s Ricky Martin in various states of undress after the break, ditto. Nowthamorelikeit….

You know. On the beach. That fuckin' sand gets everywhere... Yes. Remove them.
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More dolly #content:

6 comments to “Poppa, can you hear me?”

  1. I like that bottom picture. Big arms.

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  2. Oh look, it’s the openly Latino singing sensation.

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  3. I like ‘openly Latin singing sensation’.
    Oh, Tequilla.

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  4. Shouldn’t that be, ‘Poppa, can you queer me?’
    Sorry.

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  5. How much did he pay the owner of the lady garden to give birth and then disappear? I’d take a bucketload of his macho gispacho and I wouldn’t charge him a bean. There’d be no babes in arms at the end, mind, but we’d have a blooming good time.

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  6. I met him last week at a party at Bosco’s. He’s bored with them already and thinking of selling them on E-Bay.

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