Dear Tom Cruise,

Don’t you have a baby at home? A little perfect girl whose name means "pointy nose" and "pickpocket" who, if Scientology allows it, would enjoy some one on one time with her Pa. She’s brand new, you know? Just weeks old, your daughter should be bonding with you, not suckling at the tit of some nanny. 

Get your middle tooth-havin’, hair plug-wearin’, Xenu-worshippin’, placenta muchin’ ass off my television set. I mean that. Take your swishy self back to where that baby is mister and stop faking smiles at Star Jones. Lest we start to think you had this baby for publicity purposes.

I still love you in Magnolia,
Brittney