Despite Her Resounding Cute-it-tude, Suri Cruise Was Obvs Crying Out To Be Rescued By An Apache Helicopter Or A Rogue Submarine

Dear Suri Cruise, *?

Believe it or not, this photo was taken moments after your little celebrified, scientology flecked ass walked right be me!

Yep, it's totally, 100% true!

It was last Friday afternoon around 12: 35 in Union Square. I had just gotten off of work (summer hours all year long, bitches!) and I was walking over to Trader Joe's with my husband to get some more of those 100 calorie choc bars, frozen meatless meatballs, cashew nuts and those asian soup bowl things that I totally dig for lunch.

Anyway, there we are...innocently walking along, cursing all of the annoying mofos who crossed our path and delayed our fucking mango, roasted red salsa purchasing for another 38 seconds, when I look over and immediately have this thought:

"Why the fuck do I know that little girl who's walking by me? I know like 9 kids total and I hate all the other ones, so unless that bitch is related to me, which she clearly is not, there is no way that I could possibly know who the fuck her little as [....] OHHELLSYEAH! WAIT A GODDAMMED FUCKING MINUTE. IT'S SURI MOTHERFUCKING CRUISE! THE Suri motherfucking Cruise [xenu, xenu]. AND IF THAT'S the SURI, THAN SHE MUST BE WALKING WITH [at this point, eyes shift up...and up...and until I spot an alien, giraffe-like being in skinny jeans with a bad haircut] KKKKKAAAAATTTTIIIIEEEE!"

The following took place over the course of the next four seconds: I point out you and ur mama bear Katie Holmes to my husband. He responds with a predictable "WHERE!!??" I point out exactly where (i.e. right in his fucking face). He responds with an "OOOOHHHHH YEAAAAHHHH." I stumble in my purse for my cell phone to take a picture of you (I cannot, for the life of me, locate my cell phone). My husband says "Wait, where again???"

ZOMGS.

By this time, you and your mamz had skipped away, off to the park (I now learn) to ostensibly play or some shit like that.

Gone forever.

Buh bye, bitches.

The whole thing seemed like a random act at the time, based on the logic of: well, we live in NYC; lots of celebs live here too; we're bound to run into some every once in awhile.

However, after careful analysis, I submit to you (you = my fine DFA readers; AND you = Suri), that that's all just a load of shit. This was not a random meeting...this was not haphazard: this was a divine power intervening on our behalfs (is that even a word?). This was fate. This was kismet. This was written in the book of life.

I'm not sure why I've been deemed the chosen one (again! wow, thanks gawd), but somehow, somewhere, the responsibility to rescue you-n-ur-mom from the grips of your scientology soaked, Tom Cruise powered vice grip has fallen on the shoulders of yours truly.

Le sigh.

Ok, so check it: I'm not exactly sure how I'm ultimately going to carry this shit out, but in the meantime, tell your mommy dearest to keep sneaking off to her closet and recording messages for us. She can even bring you if she has to, I don't give a crap.

Also, in the meantime, I've set up the following toll free number to ring directly on my cellphone: 1-800-SURI-RES (CUE...get it?). You can reach me day or night (try not to call after 10:30pm).

I am here for you now...ALWAYS. But I guess you already know that....since you walked by me on Friday...totally on purpose...and very not randomly.

Everything will be fine (probably).

keepin the faith,
m.e.

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