So yeah, it’s my fuckin’ birthday.  27 years old, and I only have 5 years left to make the cover of the National Enquirer, or I am gonna shoot myself (not to death), as per a pact I made with myself a few years back.  You people must think I can rattle this genius right off like brushing dirt off of my shoulder.  Well, I’m older now, and this shit takes some work…I’m working on my birthday…for YOU!  Tell me I’m Beautiful, tell me I’m beautiful, Tell Me I’m Beautiful…

Tara Reid Tells Me I’m Too Old To Act Like A Party Girl…I Tell Her She Has A Pubic Hair Stuck In Her Teeth…aka…The Birthday Post.

A manchile was born on August 24th, 1977 to Esther and Wilbert Hathaway.  Wilbert, an ex-con turned half-assed muslim, goaded Esther into naming this “miracle baby” Hashim, which was Arabic for ‘Destroyer of Evil’.  Hashim Raul Hathaway was a supposed “Miracle Baby”, because his mother, who was 32 at the time, was scheduled for a hysterectomy until the OB/GYN informed her that she couldn’t have a hysterectomy…she was pregnant.

So the boy was born…and it went downhill from there.

According to the parents, one night 10 months after the birth, they were driving home when they heard their child say his first word…Toyota.  His first word was Japanese in nature.  This led to mild concern…

The mother left the piece of shit father and escaped in the middle of the night two months later…

The Boy Child Hashim spent his first birthday in a motel, hiding from his father, with only his mother and grandparents to celebrate his 1st birthday.  On his 27th birthday, the three of them would be the ones to celebrate with him again…

When the Boy Child was 1 year and 3 months old, he read for the first time.  At a family gathering at his grandparents, Hashim read “Plane Crash In Japan”, referring to the headline in the newspaper, shocking everyone in the room in the process.  This also led to concern…although not mild.

At the age of 2, the Boy Child was given an IQ test and rated at a genius level of 140-160 with a median of 145 (how that is a median, I cannot say).  Things went further downhill from there…

I’m not going to inflict a life story upon you today, it isn’t all that necessary, plus I want to get through this column so I can go on the balcony, sit in the Adirondack, and smoke a few bowls and read this Dick Tracy compilation that a friend gave me last night.  No, all that above was just a taste that gives you a point of reference for my train wreck of a life. 

Yesterday, the sky was a beautiful shade of Carolina Blue, the sun was out, and there were only wisps of clouds in the sky.  Today, on my birthday, it is cool and grey, grey like faded asphalt.  There is no sun in the sky, only grey…which means that it is probably going to rain.  Ha.  Go figure. 

To be honest, that really doesn’t bother me, not like it should, but then it shouldn’t bother me either, I just needed to get a quick bitch out of the way. 

Over the years, my birthday has been a mixed bag, some decent memories, some horrible memories, some birthdays I can’t even remember anymore, not always because I was too wasted, but because nothing happened at all, just another day.

In 82, I remember having a big party, and all my friends were there, and I got all the presents I wanted, including a Star Wars wrist watch, a He-Man Castle Greyskull playset, and many, many, many other things.

In 87, I remember wanting to go see Predator, but my mom had to work 2nd shift.  My drunken stepfather locked me out of the house on accident, leaving w/o realizing that I was outside playing.  I had to call my mother, and in a rage at him, she got me and I had to spend my birthday at Parkview Hospital, where my mother worked in Central Service.

In 93, my mother and stepfather took me out to eat, and then to see The Fugitive.  As soon as the movie was over, on the ride home, they got into an argument that lasted all night.

In 95, my 18th Birthday, I was on a stone bench with a girl named Jai (pronounced Jay), making out with her at Wilberforce University when midnight struck.  All I could think about was being able to purchace porn.  But then that was probably because I had my hand up this girl’s shirt.

In 97, I went to see Rage Against the Machine and Wu-Tang Clan head up a double bill at Deer Creek Music Center (now known as Verizon Wireless Music Center…I hate Clear Channel).  The next day, I would meet the woman I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with…Alana Joy Gaines.

In 98, I celebrated my 21st birthday all by myself after work, at a bar called The Alumni Club, which incidentally was torn down a year later to put up a Walgreens drug strore.  I was alone, my first drink was a fuzzy navel, and I was brooding over Joy being dead.

In 2001, I spent my birthday in bed with a co-worker named Lamica who swore 12 hours earlier that we weren’t going to have sex.  Six hours later, she called Bridget, one of my supervisors, and the three of us had sex until 9 that evening, and I felt invincible.  I went to the club that night, and when I came home, CNN was reporting that Aaliyah was killed in a plane crash.  I was crushed.  3 days later, someone went back to Bridget (who was engaged) and told her that someone said that I had sex with her.  Neither Lamica or Bridget ever spoke to me again, even though I never mentioned a word about the threesome.

In 2002, the daughter of one of my mother’s best friends came over to hang out with me.  We just sat and watched TV.  She asked me if she could spend the night, and I told her no, because my concience begged me not to sleep with her.  I spent a half hour under a cold shower.

In 2004, The Man Child Hashim writes a column talking about birthdays, hoping against hope that his 27th birthday is something worth remembering…and if it isn’t, there’s always the 28th.

I’m not bitter about any of my birthdays.  Some worked out, most didn’t, but you know, it has gotten me to where I am now.  It’s at this point that I can take comfort in the little things, and just be happy to be alive.  So with that, I leave you all for now, to see what the day has waiting for me…good or bad.

Mary Jane and Dick Tracy are outside waiting for me…it’d be rude for me to keep them waiting…


21 responses

  1. I do love the way you write…have a wonderful birthday.. you are beautiful

    August 24, 2004 at 9:43 am

  2. Anonymous

    Happy 27! 27 is a good age, along with every age in your 20’s before 30. LOL

    August 24, 2004 at 10:05 am

    HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! National Inquirer would be so honored to have a beautiful 27 y.o. human being on their front cover! I can’t believe you can remember most of your birthdays. One of the most memorable for me was my 29th. I spent it alone at a friends bar. She later got everyone to buy me a drink , I smoked a pack of smokes, and later proceeded to let me drive home. It wasn’t far but I can’t believe I made it. I puked all night and wished I was dead. That is the last time I smoked. Ever. Well, cigs.Your 27th may not be so memorable but it might be for others who appreciate you.~peace~

    August 24, 2004 at 10:17 am

    I hope your birthday this year is memorable in the best way possible. Even if you don’t have earth shattering sex, or a drunken sappy night, you have Dick Tracy, Mary Jane and the time to contemplate life in your plastic adironack chair. I mean really when we grow up and let go of the minor things isn’t that a great birthday in and of itself? I will be sparking one up for you tonight, here’s to many more.

    August 24, 2004 at 10:47 am

  5. You know what?  Fuckin’ A, I have mary jane and dick tracy…the morning has been pretty damn good so far.
    God, you should hear the music that is playing now…

    August 24, 2004 at 11:01 am

  6. “Destroyer of Evil”, my ass.
    Happy Birthday, Butt Dart. I’ll call you later.

    August 24, 2004 at 11:25 am

  7. So what are ya listening to? Don’t tease like that. What aprty of Indy are you in? I am coming up there for a wedding in Nov. we should have a drink or something.

    August 24, 2004 at 12:07 pm

  8. Happy Birthday.  Your life so far sounds like you have had to step over a lot of stones to get where you are physically and emotionally.  I am working on those stones right now, taking one at a time.

    August 24, 2004 at 12:13 pm

  9. Happy m-fing birthday…Damn, Mary Jane…I had the best collection of bowls in college and only saved one…made of beautiful blue glass…It fell out of my car door one day and I drove over it…and then there were none…

    August 24, 2004 at 12:25 pm

  10. Have a wonderful birthday!  May you enjoy it in an mj haze.  Being 27 is like…okay I’m over 25, not yet 30…PERFECT AGE DAMNIT!
    I enjoy your writing and today’s berfday recollection was a great touch 😉

    August 24, 2004 at 12:39 pm

    Mary Jane is the best bitch to spend ANY birthday with.  Hopefully today brings you something fun to write about, if not, hang out with Mary til the news looks like comedy central, and all will be good!
    Oh and your not only beautiful but your brilliant, and trust me there are few people I can say that to.

    August 24, 2004 at 12:48 pm

  12. oh and one more note.. if all else fails, The Chappelle show is on tonight!  that makes ANY day a better day!

    August 24, 2004 at 12:49 pm

  13. Happy Birthday! Smoke till you are stupid, go out and make a ass of yourself cause you got a good excuse!

    August 24, 2004 at 3:42 pm

  14. Anonymous

    Quote fum H3id1: i love yew woo who woot woot lolz holla baq n give me propz plz hah u got tag bai meeh =]

    August 24, 2004 at 4:54 pm

  15. Anonymous

    Happy Birthday, Hashim! You are very beautiful, and one of about 3 Xanga people who I really, really love reading. I know birthdays are usually shitty, but I really hope that this one will be good to you. Just remember, you’re only as old as the woman you feel.

    August 24, 2004 at 6:07 pm

  16. Although I am extremely exhausted, I had to log on just to say HAPPY BIRTHDAY baby love!!!  I hope it’s as wonderful as you!
    Much love.

    August 24, 2004 at 10:59 pm

  17. hey Hashim.. hope you had a good birthday. i think people tend to put too much pressure on how you’re ‘supposed to spend the day’.. birthdays are over-rated… especially when people keep reminding you “you’re a quarter of a century old!!”
    your last comment on my journal was very kind.. but you give me more credit than i deserve.. yours is one of only a few journals on here that really have something worth reading. you’re an excellent writer.
    happy belated birthday =)

    August 25, 2004 at 5:07 am

  18. Hey, happy birthday! Thanks for that post… you seem to have an odd knack of writing about things that have been on my mind. Strange man, girldisrupted does it too. I was lying in bed about two nights ago trying to list all how I spent all my birthdays. I remember them too!
    Sounds like a bozo dad and gobshite step-da. But they don’t seem to have had an adverse effect upon you, I like what I see of Hashim. And I’m new ’round here!
    You were an early learner then? That’s fantastic… who taught you how to read? You hold the record there; I wasn’t reading until just after my second birthday. Ye’ve trounced me, arr!
    Thanks for this post, beautiful, it was refreshing, as ever

    August 25, 2004 at 5:37 am

  19. Anonymous

    Ehm… that was me *beams*

    August 25, 2004 at 5:46 am

  20. Anonymous

    Happy belated birthday! I love your blog with all it’s wit, sarcasm, and honesty.

    August 25, 2004 at 8:09 am

  21. Happy belated.  Hope all was well, Mr. beautiful!

    August 25, 2004 at 12:33 pm

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