Uh huh. It’s my birthday. They recur with remorseless regularity, which of course is the whole point of them.
I had cards from Mrs K, the Kirwood sister, friends and my acting agent. I also had a message from the Google people: “Hey Tony, it’s your special day!” Thanks, guys, but you really shouldn’t. I’m only going to have to reciprocate.
I also had three “Happy Birthday”emails from Netlog. I tried to sign up with them last year, in a fit of guilt at being underconnected to the social network (in my day we called it “the pub”). I’m crap at all this stuff and it took me three tries with different passwords and usernames. Now I know they all worked.
I have at least five different identities lurking in cyberspace: akirwood, tkirwood, anthonykir, tonykirwood and kirwoodtony.
Not many know this, but each identity is a different facet of my personality. Akirwood is my public online persona: affable, approachable, knows his html from his cms. The job of emailing editors and casting directors is his. Tkirwood is the grumpy, anxious face behind the mask. He’s the one who gets trapped at the shopping baskets.
Anthonykir is the devastating email joker who irritates my friends. Tonykirwood is the slack-jawed hippy slavering over classic youtube music clips. Kirwoodtony is a vindictive hunchbacked troll whom you don’t want to know and neither do I.
These days, when the entire world is muscling in on my birthday observations (why??? You won’t get a drink out of it), it’s touch and go which identity you’ll get.
You mean you don’t know my age? Meet the affable akirwood.
What do you like about birthdays?
What do you hate about them?