Old age Middle prompts Pinky’s tiniest fiddle…
Moldier and balder, more hermit than baller
Somehow his first progeny has managed to turnout smaller…
Than the Log…

Just want you to know.
More enjoyment derived from your ricockulously, freaktastically, DNA-blestasticially recombinant cheater children
(Don’t forget…I learned all about that shit when I met you: MHSSRAP!!! Marissa!! DAMPHIR!!!)
than in the three hell-a-cious years spent in the pall covered
Smog-
Hovered Hell-ay.

When you’re back in the Y-O-MING, I’ll cease calling it Why-o-me-ng, since you’ll take over the GRRRR-ummmping!

Happy B-diddlins, Middle, can’t wait to have ruckus grand central station back—can you believe it’s been twelve years??? You’re fucking thirty dubs one, Man!

♥Pink

P.S. Sure, maybe this makes sense to no one (but A & me); fuck off; I’m fabulous. Bitch Kitty knows.

In awe of Brother Stink’s awesome Where’s-Waldo style poster of the fingers, I had to get cracking and find my own Simpsonized portrait.

I already had it actuially, I was just never able to get the whole dude with the background, like ya’ll did. I still don’t know why it won’t work, but I do have the bust if you wanted to insert me into a future poster. I have the file in both .png and .psd without the background if you want it, Stink (I’ll need your email since I didn’t add you to my contacts the last time you emailed me and now I can’t find it), but for now, here is the Simpsonized version of the Finger of Dirt.