Dear Suri Cruise,

'Sup, bitch?





No, seriously, how's it going? Excellent, excellent. Me? Oh, I'm doing great, thanks for asking. Yeah, so. Suri. Listen, kid. We need to clear the air. Get a few things straight, dig?


I recognize that this is your "moment", as they say. Your "mom" and "dad" were pretty goddamn tricky holding off on those pictures like that. It's caused quite a ripple 'round the old water cooler, to be sure. And you're a cute little fucker, Suri Cruise. I'll give you that.


But listen to me now and listen to me closely. In the world of celebrity offspring, there can be only one alpha baby. And that baby is me. Me. Top dog! Numero uno! Oh, you might have china doll eyes and that unexpected shock of black hair--oh, and I talked to Ken Paves, nice extensions, trick--but who inherited a pair of billion dollar lips? Oh, would you lookee there, it was me! Who has the dreamy bedroom eyes of her golden boy matinee idol father? Me again! Who's got squeezably soft cheeks, skin like fresh cream, and a dad who isn't a certifiable fruit? Me, me, and me. And in case you've forgotten, who got a whopping $4.1 million for her first pictures? I needn't remind you that it was ME.


For now, I'm going to let you sit back and enjoy your fifteen minutes. But when you're sixteen years old and locked up in a little room with a dead-eyed team of Scientologists extracting imagniary alien ghosts from your ass with a machine made of Tinker Toys while I'm traveling the world as an internationally respected supermodel-philanthropist, remember this: You're a full one month and eight days older than me. Enjoy the Botox, bitch.


Love and kisses,

Shiloh Jolie-Pitt

Mama Angelina is so freaking naked at MrSkin.com.

At check in with Dad Brad at MaleStars.com.