My birthday so rocks.

I’ve had an awesome birthday.  Coinciding with several large factions of my family speaking for the first time in fifteen years, I got birthday wishes from all of my parents and parts of the family I haven’t spoken to in years.   My moms sent me some good-looking shirts, one phoned in an order to Cakelove, and my little sister had Imo’s Pizza drop-shipped to me from St. Louis.

Besides having all the kids of this generation speaking, Sarah put out a call for birthday poetry, and I got it back in spades from the Burning Man clan I hang with, Fandango.  I can’t keep them to myself, so I include them below with their authors.

Best of all I surprised Sarah last night with a new engagement ring and
ask her to marry me again since it’s been five years.  Perhaps it has
something to do with the fact that she’s "knocked up", as our link Jennifer would say, but she did say yes.

Without further delay, I give you…. birthday tributes!  My many thanks to you all…

Corey sent me a birthday Flash, that had me busted up laughing.

Q sent this haiku:

blue planet’s orbit
marks another year’s passing
have a great day, friend

Steve Courtney sent this one:

Happy day, Shabbir,
I’ll see you in September,
For joint-birthday fun.

Shannon,  has no equal amongst the haiku and limerick writers of our Fandango clan, wrote this one:

Please keep it less than austere
For this, the last birthday frontier
In April, said Q:
It’s the last about you
Happy birthday, near-daddy Shabbir!

Say Kylen and Corey and Sibyl
Of joy, you’ve yet had but a nibble
And in 40 odd days
As your heart goes ablaze
We’ll toast to the wee Ishkabibbble!*

*Ishkabibble is the name we’ve been using for our as-yet unborn child.  He was a Vaudeville singer.

Jen and Mattis, whose Thurston Howell III impression is downright
distrurbing, sent me an appropriately sweet e-mail about my birthday
and telling me I wasn’t old.  After asking, "Where the fuck’s my
birthday haiku, geezer?", Mattis sent me this as punishment for my

There once was man named Shabbs
Who worried he might have crabs
Went to the doctor
An anal proctor
Who said, "Why not name them ‘Babbs’?"

To Sarah, his lovely wife
This caused a great deal of strife.
She said of his crabs,
"On these please keep tabs!
Your crotch ain’t made for wildlife."

"But," cried Shabbs, "it’s my birth-day!
A fun-filled old-time mirth-day!
Surely t’would best
To treat like a guest
Bugs in my nether toupee!"

Eric sent the follow missive announcing his solo arrival:

Possible regrets
Weeping hearts drum our sorrow
Sick mother-in-law


Johana sent this one, which had me scratching my head until I wrote out the numbers:

five, one-one, oh five
an exciting new year dawns
enjoy past oh six!


And of course, I got a dog-themed item from BJ: