Boy am I glad it’s New Year’s. Finally, I get to wear something besides this diaper. Just a top hat and sash, but at least it’s something! When I first signed this contract to be Baby New Year, I didn’t really consider the downside. All I thought of was the fame and adulation, the champagne, the party favors, the girls. Everything that goes along with being the symbol of the New Year. I mean, I’m a baby who gets to paaaaaaaarty! How cool is that? Turns out, not so much.
Everyone loves me -- for one night, then bam! It’s back to the crib. No more top hat, no more champagne. They even take my stogie. I ask you – is that fair? Try drinking and smoking up a storm for one night and then going cold turkey the rest of the year. And my parents wonder why I cry.
But the worst part is, I never grow up. I’m just a stupid baby. Forever. I lay here soiling myself while everyone around me gets older. I’ve got no friends. I used to have play dates with Justin Bieber. Now look at him. He’s got a pet monkey and a Fisker. Where’s my monkey? Even Miley Cyrus gets to grow up. Sort of. When do I get to put on a giant foam finger and make an ass of myself? Nobody wants to see Baby New Year twerk. I can doff my top hat till the cows come home and swill champagne like Paris Hilton on a bender. The chicks think that’s cute. But when the clock strikes midnight and I move in for a kiss, they’re disgusted. Hey, I’m 52 years old, I’ve got needs.
I tell you, it’s not easy being me. I can complain all day, but what’s the use? No one wants to listen. All they want to hear from me is goo-goo, ga-ga, and a lot of cooing. I tell you, I’m sick of it. I’ve got ideas, interests beyond the mobile. But as soon as I start talking, they jam that binky in my mouth and that’s it, brother.
And I warn you, if I hear “The Wheels in the Bus Go Round and Round” one more time, I’m going to explode. And not just the usual way, either. This time, it’s going to take more than a diaper change to clean up.
And one more thing – stop stealing my nose!
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