As a lot of people know, my second favorite thing about living in New York (after Grey’s Papaya) is going to the annual Gay Pride Parade…with my girlfriend, thank you very much.

Unfortunately, I could not attend this year’s festivities because I was home, with my girlfriend, celebrating Father’s Day.

Such inconsiderate scheduling, and not just for me. I mean, gay dads exist. What’s a gay dad supposed to do when the parade is planned on Father’s Day? He probably wakes up, brushes his teeth, puts on the silly glasses and special leather g-string he laid out the night before, totally ready to jump on a float and writhe with other men for the whole afternoon. Then he walks downstairs to find his two children making him breakfast.

Children: Happy Father’s Day!
Gay Dad: Oh! Thank you, kids. That’s so sweet.
Children: We made you breakfast!
Gay Dad: Wow! Uhm…would you mind rolling it up in a tortilla or something? I actually have to go to this thing right now.
Children: But, we bought you a present.

Gay Dad opens the present. It’s a bottle of shampoo.

Gay Dad: Shampoo?
Children: Well, last year you kept saying how hard it was to get all the semen and glitter out of your hair.
Gay Dad: You are the best kids a gay dad could ask for.

They hug.

Gay Dad: But, seriously kids, I have to go grind with men on the back of a flatbed and pour Dasani on myself. I’ll catch up with you later, though. Kisses!

The end.

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