There is absolutely no way that Katie Holmes’ pegged nightmare jeans belong to Tommy Girl. Katie could wear Tommy’s jeans as capris, maybe. I don’t know why she would want to wear his jeans. That shit is probably stained with John Travolta’s peen snot.
These two harebrained aliens walked to their car in NYC today without a care in the world. It seems that Katie only smiles around Tommy Girl. It’s not that she wants to. It’s that she HAS to. It’s in her contract. Right under the clause that states she must moisturize his chode with barley lotion every Sunday. Or maybe Katie has some sort of “make me smile” button on her palm. That’s why he’s always grabbing on to her like she’s a 12″ dildo.
Here’s Stepford Katie, her owner and Suri in red bouncing around NYC this afternoon.