Holla! It’s my birthday! Or so SHE says, and at least this year she’s told me straight out instead of asking “who’s birthday is it Bailey?? Who’s?” I am 3 years old. As usual, I have received nothing from the birthday grinch, besides a not even overly enthusiastic “happy birthday buddy” when I pawed at her face at 3am to commence celebration. I did however clean up during that other recent holiday and now have tripled my toy stash. So I suppose the only thing I’d really like for my birthday is some respect. In fact, I think I’ll break into song about it... Go Bad Bailey, it’s your birfday...
This palace is mine
You know that’s right
Doin what I want
All day and night
Uh
Well you say stop behave,
And I say screw you
But my friends you have seen nothing
Shut up and clean my poo
Because I’m bad, not Brad
Come on
(really, really bad)
You know I’m bad, not Brad
Meowmore
(really, really bad)
And the whole world has to feed me right now
Cuz I’m hungry once again
Who’s Brad?....
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