Before we get to a lovely opening night at the Basement, in rainy Auckland this evening, I must just dispense with the final night of MICF:
Another rollicking show, with Nicki winning story of the night. Rifling through her Mum's bag at the beach one day, Nicki found some tampons. Rather than explaining what they were, her mum told her that they were earplugs. Nicki then spent a happy afternoon at the beach, with tampons stuck in her ears.
And so, this evening.
First night at the Basement, an ace little theatre, that I haven't performed in for years.
Lovely to have old friends in the audience, as well as a little weird, considering that some of them are actually in the stories I've been telling.
After minor technical difficulties, during which time I had to provide my own hold music while the tech fixed the mic, we were away.
Nick took great delight in telling us about his mate Warren, who was walked in on, mid shag, in their new, empty flat, not only by Nick, but all of their flatmates. Nick then finished his story by saying "Is that how You remember it, Warren?" and turning to the friend next to him. Oddly, Warren wasn't embarrassed, but seemed quite happy that it proved he could get a girlfriend.
Dot's older brother used to get her to test whether a battery was flat, by sticking it on her tongue; by some strange coincidence, none of them ever were.
Andi's little boy saw a woman in a full burkha for the first time, and gasped and said "Look, it's Darth Vader!"
Story of the night went to Lisette, who figured out embarrassingly late that her parents were lying when they told her that Mr Whippy only plays the music when he's empty....
May 8, 2012
April 20, 2012
A most giantous recap of the entire last week.
What do you mean I haven't updated you all for a week? It's right here, in front of you...
Last Friday was a lovely show; after flatly denying that he loved his dog too much, an audience member proudly showed me that the screensaver on his phone was a picture of his greyhound wearing ugg boots.
Winning story went to Anthony, who, at the age of four, was told by his parents that every time you let a helium balloon go Jesus kills a dolphin. Pandemonium in the room. I think we were all just shocked to realise that the number one killer of dolphins turns out not to be drift-netting after all. I asked Anthony if this statement had had an effect in him, and he said that as a small child he found birthday parties very stressful.
Saturday's top story teller was Charlie, with a story that everyone totally identified with. At the age of six he had to sing "California Here I Come" solo at the school ball. The teacher wouldn't let him go to the toilet beforehand, so he ended up wetting his pants on stage. Afterwards he told his friends, he'd been sick on himself, rather than say he'd weeed himself. I asked Charlie if he'd carried that embarrassment around forever, and whether he'd told anyone that story and he said - "I've never told anyone before now." He got a round of applause.
Sunday stands out for me, for another wonderful tale of parental lies (Melbourne parents are clearly incredibly inventive/cruel/nutters). Jeremy was told by his mum that if you don't eat all the food on your plate, what's left on it, will be what your future spouse looks like. Mmhm. Jeremy is still single (clearly just not finding that perfect woman who looks like half a gnawed chop and smushed broccoli). I was more disturbed by the thought that if he did eat all the food off his plate he'd end up marrying a very pale flat faced woman with no features at all.
(Sunday also stands out for me, because I did four gigs: Random Musical, Fanfiction Comedy, my show, and then The Setlist Show. The Setlist Show is terrormazing. You do stand up from a Setlist that they give you while you're on stage. The most exhilarating and terrifying thing I've done in a while - everyone that's done it comes off looking like someone who just survived a bungee jump. I'm doing it again tonight. Waaaahhhh!)
Sunday's winner, however was Nick, who, while sleepwalking in Bali, walked off a fourth floor balcony, and woke up walking along the street, with no idea how he'd got there. He bruised his spleen, had cuts and bruises and a broken rib, but was otherwise ok. The hotel staff found him, and sent someone up to tell his girlfriend. Unfortunately for her, all they said was that he'd fallen off the balcony, and forgot to mention he was still alive (I am loving the italics today). She, understandably, was incredibly upset, and then lost her mind a bit more, when Nick walked in the door, covered in blood, minutes later.
Tuesday night gave me Brian the hang-gliding fireman. When I asked for Near Death Experiences, I didn't think anyone could top Nick's. Brian, the ludicrously muscular fireman in the second row, could. He had four or five to choose from, but started with hang-gliding off a cliff, getting his instructions muddled, and plummeting straight to the ground (basically, think Buzz Lightyear trying to fly, and you have the right physique, and result). I asked him if he'd been any good with paper planes as a kid, and apparently not. His next story involved running into a factory that was on fire, having the burning roof collapse a metre in front of him, and then having to duck a massive fireball. When I asked him what he was thinking at the time, he said "to be honest, I felt like I was in a scene from the Matrix." You've got to love a man who, when faced with death, just thinks "I am so Keanu Reeves right now."
Wednesday presented me with Tess, whose brother used to tie her to a tree with fishing wire, put a galvanized bucket on her head, and then throw stones at her, in a sort of primitive mashup of William Tell and Ned Kelly. Story of the night went to Wendy, however, who was given a session in a Flotation Tank as a present. It was only after she got in to her sensory deprivation chamber, that she remembered her tendency towards sea sickness. Her memory was jolted when she go so nauseous that she vomited all over herself in the tank. She said the worst part was having to tell the receptionist what had happened. Her story could be summed up by saying- "How was your Flotation tank experience?" "It all went to custard."
Thursday revealed one of my favourite stories of the season, as well as a lot of audience gullibility. Not only did we have Scotty's lovely tale of being told that any rope that led into the water, was the rope that stopped Tasmania from drifting too far away from the mainland, we had Danni, who believed that red licorice was made from rats' blood, and Cara whose friend thought that bananas are actually the mouldy legs of giant spiders.
Peter had the winning story. On holiday in Greece, he visited a small island, and being thirsty, stopped at a rustic little taverna. He sat at a bench outside, and ordered a coke. Once he'd finished his drink, and got up to pay, he realised he was, in fact, just at someone's house....
Tonight started off a little weirdly, when I bent down in the dark, backstage, to find my bag, and smashed my nose on the back of a chair. It's all glamour and grace with me.
Billy told us his near death experience which was being bitten by a scorpion, on his pinky finger. Questioning him for the gory details, he admitted it hadn't swollen up much, and the scorpion wasn't actually poisonous, thus demonstrating the near death experience equivalent of man flu.
Carly had a genuine near death experience when she nearly cycled off a cliff at high speed, but won the night with the story of her little sister Tarryn. Tarryn wanted to make a traditional Aussie hat with corks, but lacking the necessary materials, had to improvise. Which is why she arrived at the dinner table in front of family friends, proudly wearing a hat with tampons dangling all around....
One more show to go, (apart from 10 terrifying but hopefully glorious minutes at Setlist this evening) and then it's back to a quiet life of lots of Comedy Festival Roadshow gigs, and then a week of doing the show in New Zealand.
Last Friday was a lovely show; after flatly denying that he loved his dog too much, an audience member proudly showed me that the screensaver on his phone was a picture of his greyhound wearing ugg boots.
Winning story went to Anthony, who, at the age of four, was told by his parents that every time you let a helium balloon go Jesus kills a dolphin. Pandemonium in the room. I think we were all just shocked to realise that the number one killer of dolphins turns out not to be drift-netting after all. I asked Anthony if this statement had had an effect in him, and he said that as a small child he found birthday parties very stressful.
Saturday's top story teller was Charlie, with a story that everyone totally identified with. At the age of six he had to sing "California Here I Come" solo at the school ball. The teacher wouldn't let him go to the toilet beforehand, so he ended up wetting his pants on stage. Afterwards he told his friends, he'd been sick on himself, rather than say he'd weeed himself. I asked Charlie if he'd carried that embarrassment around forever, and whether he'd told anyone that story and he said - "I've never told anyone before now." He got a round of applause.
Sunday stands out for me, for another wonderful tale of parental lies (Melbourne parents are clearly incredibly inventive/cruel/nutters). Jeremy was told by his mum that if you don't eat all the food on your plate, what's left on it, will be what your future spouse looks like. Mmhm. Jeremy is still single (clearly just not finding that perfect woman who looks like half a gnawed chop and smushed broccoli). I was more disturbed by the thought that if he did eat all the food off his plate he'd end up marrying a very pale flat faced woman with no features at all.
(Sunday also stands out for me, because I did four gigs: Random Musical, Fanfiction Comedy, my show, and then The Setlist Show. The Setlist Show is terrormazing. You do stand up from a Setlist that they give you while you're on stage. The most exhilarating and terrifying thing I've done in a while - everyone that's done it comes off looking like someone who just survived a bungee jump. I'm doing it again tonight. Waaaahhhh!)
Sunday's winner, however was Nick, who, while sleepwalking in Bali, walked off a fourth floor balcony, and woke up walking along the street, with no idea how he'd got there. He bruised his spleen, had cuts and bruises and a broken rib, but was otherwise ok. The hotel staff found him, and sent someone up to tell his girlfriend. Unfortunately for her, all they said was that he'd fallen off the balcony, and forgot to mention he was still alive (I am loving the italics today). She, understandably, was incredibly upset, and then lost her mind a bit more, when Nick walked in the door, covered in blood, minutes later.
Tuesday night gave me Brian the hang-gliding fireman. When I asked for Near Death Experiences, I didn't think anyone could top Nick's. Brian, the ludicrously muscular fireman in the second row, could. He had four or five to choose from, but started with hang-gliding off a cliff, getting his instructions muddled, and plummeting straight to the ground (basically, think Buzz Lightyear trying to fly, and you have the right physique, and result). I asked him if he'd been any good with paper planes as a kid, and apparently not. His next story involved running into a factory that was on fire, having the burning roof collapse a metre in front of him, and then having to duck a massive fireball. When I asked him what he was thinking at the time, he said "to be honest, I felt like I was in a scene from the Matrix." You've got to love a man who, when faced with death, just thinks "I am so Keanu Reeves right now."
Wednesday presented me with Tess, whose brother used to tie her to a tree with fishing wire, put a galvanized bucket on her head, and then throw stones at her, in a sort of primitive mashup of William Tell and Ned Kelly. Story of the night went to Wendy, however, who was given a session in a Flotation Tank as a present. It was only after she got in to her sensory deprivation chamber, that she remembered her tendency towards sea sickness. Her memory was jolted when she go so nauseous that she vomited all over herself in the tank. She said the worst part was having to tell the receptionist what had happened. Her story could be summed up by saying- "How was your Flotation tank experience?" "It all went to custard."
Thursday revealed one of my favourite stories of the season, as well as a lot of audience gullibility. Not only did we have Scotty's lovely tale of being told that any rope that led into the water, was the rope that stopped Tasmania from drifting too far away from the mainland, we had Danni, who believed that red licorice was made from rats' blood, and Cara whose friend thought that bananas are actually the mouldy legs of giant spiders.
Peter had the winning story. On holiday in Greece, he visited a small island, and being thirsty, stopped at a rustic little taverna. He sat at a bench outside, and ordered a coke. Once he'd finished his drink, and got up to pay, he realised he was, in fact, just at someone's house....
Tonight started off a little weirdly, when I bent down in the dark, backstage, to find my bag, and smashed my nose on the back of a chair. It's all glamour and grace with me.
Billy told us his near death experience which was being bitten by a scorpion, on his pinky finger. Questioning him for the gory details, he admitted it hadn't swollen up much, and the scorpion wasn't actually poisonous, thus demonstrating the near death experience equivalent of man flu.
Carly had a genuine near death experience when she nearly cycled off a cliff at high speed, but won the night with the story of her little sister Tarryn. Tarryn wanted to make a traditional Aussie hat with corks, but lacking the necessary materials, had to improvise. Which is why she arrived at the dinner table in front of family friends, proudly wearing a hat with tampons dangling all around....
One more show to go, (apart from 10 terrifying but hopefully glorious minutes at Setlist this evening) and then it's back to a quiet life of lots of Comedy Festival Roadshow gigs, and then a week of doing the show in New Zealand.
April 13, 2012
This is the week that still is
Somehow the week has slipped past me, and I haven't posted any synopses, so here they all are now. I was considering splitting them into three posts, just for continuity, but frankly, we're all here now, you can cope with reading it all at once.
I'm such a feckless, faithless creature - every night I think I've had my favourite show, and then the next night happens, and I shift my affections to that one. I think my favourite favourite show was Tuesday's. I'm serious this time. Really. And the reason for my delight was the reappearance of most, if not all, of Australia's young scientists.
Last year at The Great Intender I had one extremely memorable show where the entire front half of the room turned out to be nuclear physicists (or of a similar ilk). They were awash with great stories - and last night they came back.
They were some wonderful stories from the room - Norm told us of being rescued from drowning in a creek, at the age of six, by a woman in a starched basketball uniform,which in my head I've visualized as a sort of version of Carry On Nurse's uniform (as I suspect indeed as Norm as done).
Victor attempted to tell his new French host family that Australian bread has lots of preservatives in it (a great conversational gambit) but not knowing the French word for it, gambled on it being something similar, and said "preservatif" (must check Le spelling). Unfortunately, that's French for something else entirely, so what he actually said was"Australian bread is full of condoms." A line sorely missed from Men at Works "Land Downunder."
When Scientist Pat was born, his Father Michael (that's a very in in-joke, that's you'll only get if you're a young scientist, or you trawl through last year's blogs) and his mum, realised that his two older brothers were fascinated by Pat being breastfed. Gorgeously, they bought the two boys dolls, so they could breastfeed as well. Adorable. And a killer story to trot out whenever they brought a girlfriend home.
Story/ies of the night belonged to Scientist Liz; as well as a chilling tale of pencil based dentistry, at the age of five, she persuaded her four year old sister ("it's important to note that she weighed more than I did") to tie a skipping rope around her waist, which Liz then tied to a second one. Once secured, Liz tried to force her sister to ABSEIL OUT OF A SECOND STOREY WINDOW. When I asked if there was plummeting, Liz said "No, she wouldn't do it." Whereupon she began bashing her sister's fingers to make her let go of the window sill.
When their parents found out, their punishment (why THEIR punishment? Surely the little round one had suffered enough?) was to write an essay each. Doubly cruel on the smaller chubbier child, I thought, given that she was only four and would therefore have to learn to read and write, before she could even start the essay - and even then, she'd have to do it with mangled fingers.
Wednesday night was my absolute favourite show of all time, across any genre. Truly, I've never felt this way about any show before. It was sublime, forget any show I've ever mentioned before (all right, perhaps I'm starting to push the show love).
A quite lovely show, Wednesday was the night of pet revelation, with a husband and best friend almost staging an intervention over a shihtzu-cross called Harry. In the midst of the discussion, Harry's "mum" (who said "of course he's adopted," to which I replied "because you couldn't have puppies?") cheerfully admitted she would carry him over puddles, not make him walk around the house because he had such small paws, and conceded that if her husband got out of bed, Harry was allowed to take his place. I didn't say it, but I sincerely hoped that Harry wasn't just an insanely clever small man in a fur coat.
Matt also had shihtzu crosses, but his were mixed with Cavalier King Charles spaniels, which, according to him, makes them "King Schits."
In the moments of mortification category, Emma's small daughter gets an honorable mention. Out walking with her Dad one day, an elderly lady stopped to smile and say hello. Emma's daughter looked up and said "Daddy - is that a Hag?"
Carol told us how, when she was 11, her 19 brother used to torment her in the bottom bunk, by pretending his hand was a spider crawling down the wall. I was more interested in the fact that a 19 year had to sleep in a bunk.
Storyteller of the night was 6 ft 2 Julia, who, at 14 years older than her little sister, used to hold her upside down by the ankles over the toilet - flush it - and tell her she was going down....
Thursday night's show was an interesting one, some great stories, but an unexpected ending.
Kevin told us how his brothers would trap him under a beanbag and try to suffocate him, a lovely variation on my brother's technique of snaring me under my doona, then counting down the minutes till the air ran out.
Suzie's brothers went for a different approach and just filled her bed with a caterpillars. An ingenious idea I thought - perfect torment for the little sister and good for the garden.
Winning the night, with a moment of mortification that's lasted for 20+ years, was Damien. An eager Year 10, he did all the lighting for the Year 12 production. Heavily into Drama, he also quite liked all the girls in the show as well. On the last night of the production, he brought in a red rose for each girl - or he would have, had he not miscounted. 15 girls - 14 roses. In his early, accidental version of the Bachelor, Damien only realised his mistake, when the final girl asked him "haven't you got a rose for me?" All these years later, he can't remember her name, but he can still see the look on her face....
Midway through the show, I thought I'd managed to offend someone to the point of them walking out. The stage lights in the Cloakroom are so bright that I can't see all the way to the back of the room, but I was aware of some some sort of issue, involving whispering, and people shifting seats, and others leaving.
Afterwards, I discovered that a rather inebriated man in the back row had decided to demonstrate a moment of mortification of his own, and vomit over three of his mates, no small effort at 8.30 on a Thursday night. I couldn't see, or fortunately smell, this happening, but it did explain why the vomiting story I mentioned later didn't go as well as it normally does - they'd already seen it. As the glorious Bob Franklin commented later: "he's stolen your chunder."
I'm such a feckless, faithless creature - every night I think I've had my favourite show, and then the next night happens, and I shift my affections to that one. I think my favourite favourite show was Tuesday's. I'm serious this time. Really. And the reason for my delight was the reappearance of most, if not all, of Australia's young scientists.
Last year at The Great Intender I had one extremely memorable show where the entire front half of the room turned out to be nuclear physicists (or of a similar ilk). They were awash with great stories - and last night they came back.
They were some wonderful stories from the room - Norm told us of being rescued from drowning in a creek, at the age of six, by a woman in a starched basketball uniform,which in my head I've visualized as a sort of version of Carry On Nurse's uniform (as I suspect indeed as Norm as done).
Victor attempted to tell his new French host family that Australian bread has lots of preservatives in it (a great conversational gambit) but not knowing the French word for it, gambled on it being something similar, and said "preservatif" (must check Le spelling). Unfortunately, that's French for something else entirely, so what he actually said was"Australian bread is full of condoms." A line sorely missed from Men at Works "Land Downunder."
When Scientist Pat was born, his Father Michael (that's a very in in-joke, that's you'll only get if you're a young scientist, or you trawl through last year's blogs) and his mum, realised that his two older brothers were fascinated by Pat being breastfed. Gorgeously, they bought the two boys dolls, so they could breastfeed as well. Adorable. And a killer story to trot out whenever they brought a girlfriend home.
Story/ies of the night belonged to Scientist Liz; as well as a chilling tale of pencil based dentistry, at the age of five, she persuaded her four year old sister ("it's important to note that she weighed more than I did") to tie a skipping rope around her waist, which Liz then tied to a second one. Once secured, Liz tried to force her sister to ABSEIL OUT OF A SECOND STOREY WINDOW. When I asked if there was plummeting, Liz said "No, she wouldn't do it." Whereupon she began bashing her sister's fingers to make her let go of the window sill.
When their parents found out, their punishment (why THEIR punishment? Surely the little round one had suffered enough?) was to write an essay each. Doubly cruel on the smaller chubbier child, I thought, given that she was only four and would therefore have to learn to read and write, before she could even start the essay - and even then, she'd have to do it with mangled fingers.
Wednesday night was my absolute favourite show of all time, across any genre. Truly, I've never felt this way about any show before. It was sublime, forget any show I've ever mentioned before (all right, perhaps I'm starting to push the show love).
A quite lovely show, Wednesday was the night of pet revelation, with a husband and best friend almost staging an intervention over a shihtzu-cross called Harry. In the midst of the discussion, Harry's "mum" (who said "of course he's adopted," to which I replied "because you couldn't have puppies?") cheerfully admitted she would carry him over puddles, not make him walk around the house because he had such small paws, and conceded that if her husband got out of bed, Harry was allowed to take his place. I didn't say it, but I sincerely hoped that Harry wasn't just an insanely clever small man in a fur coat.
Matt also had shihtzu crosses, but his were mixed with Cavalier King Charles spaniels, which, according to him, makes them "King Schits."
In the moments of mortification category, Emma's small daughter gets an honorable mention. Out walking with her Dad one day, an elderly lady stopped to smile and say hello. Emma's daughter looked up and said "Daddy - is that a Hag?"
Carol told us how, when she was 11, her 19 brother used to torment her in the bottom bunk, by pretending his hand was a spider crawling down the wall. I was more interested in the fact that a 19 year had to sleep in a bunk.
Storyteller of the night was 6 ft 2 Julia, who, at 14 years older than her little sister, used to hold her upside down by the ankles over the toilet - flush it - and tell her she was going down....
Thursday night's show was an interesting one, some great stories, but an unexpected ending.
Kevin told us how his brothers would trap him under a beanbag and try to suffocate him, a lovely variation on my brother's technique of snaring me under my doona, then counting down the minutes till the air ran out.
Suzie's brothers went for a different approach and just filled her bed with a caterpillars. An ingenious idea I thought - perfect torment for the little sister and good for the garden.
Winning the night, with a moment of mortification that's lasted for 20+ years, was Damien. An eager Year 10, he did all the lighting for the Year 12 production. Heavily into Drama, he also quite liked all the girls in the show as well. On the last night of the production, he brought in a red rose for each girl - or he would have, had he not miscounted. 15 girls - 14 roses. In his early, accidental version of the Bachelor, Damien only realised his mistake, when the final girl asked him "haven't you got a rose for me?" All these years later, he can't remember her name, but he can still see the look on her face....
Midway through the show, I thought I'd managed to offend someone to the point of them walking out. The stage lights in the Cloakroom are so bright that I can't see all the way to the back of the room, but I was aware of some some sort of issue, involving whispering, and people shifting seats, and others leaving.
Afterwards, I discovered that a rather inebriated man in the back row had decided to demonstrate a moment of mortification of his own, and vomit over three of his mates, no small effort at 8.30 on a Thursday night. I couldn't see, or fortunately smell, this happening, but it did explain why the vomiting story I mentioned later didn't go as well as it normally does - they'd already seen it. As the glorious Bob Franklin commented later: "he's stolen your chunder."
April 10, 2012
Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. The Tuesday that Winter happened
Rightio, that blinkin bloody Great Debate is out of the way, so I can get back to doing my blog (I won't tell you who won the Debate or what happened at the end, but I think you will like them both), which I know you've all been waiting anxiously for. Especially the two of you who read this from the Ukraine (which excites me greatly).
So: Saturday night was another full house, which was lovely, and packed full of delightful story tellers. My favourite thing that I did (I'm abandoning all pretense of modesty, because it was a particularly good pun) was rechristen a woman called Emma, who turned up to the wrong funeral, "Emmetary." I realise that the rest of the audience wasn't quite as excited as I was about it, but I did award myself 10 points for it, which was an excellent result.
An early audience favourite was Elizabeth Fart Fury (not her original name) whose older brother would say "put your face here," and when she placed her face as directed, he would fart into it. The audience was thrilled by the genius of its simplicity, and, I sensed, a touch sad that they hadn't thought of it themselves. Tragically, Elizabeth never caught on to the fact that the opening gambit of "put your face here" always ended the same way....
Story of the night went to Ram, who was an exchange student in Japan. Her new host family served her a Japanese pancake with fish flakes on the top, and the heat of the pancake made the fish flakes move. Ram, having never seen this before, thought they were live worms, and burst into tears. Her host family was mortified, but the language barrier meant she couldn't explain. Unsure what else to do, they took all the food off the table. Eventually, with the help of a dictionary, Ram explained about the worms. Her host family then kacked themselves - but still didn't tell Ram what they were.
Then, Sunday:
Sunday's show went up a touch late, due to the fact that everyone was being too magnificent at the debate (Jason Byrne outdid himself....) but was another great sold out show. My Mother in Law was in, which meant that she now knows a lot more about me, and my pre-husband antics than she perhaps expected to.
My favourite audience member of the season so far (apart from Grant, his Grandad and the Norwegian Nudity) (which sounds like a Roald Dahl story) was Marion. Marion was in the front row, had snow white hair, and looked just like my Gran. She was a dear little old lady, who loved everything we talked about (including/especially the saucy bits) and told us with great relish she'd been pinched on the bottom in France. I hope at her age I'm still going to comedy shows and laughing my pinched ass off (hell, I hope I'm still doing shows at her age).
Diane went to Easter Island, and was shot at by a nine year old, which frankly they should put on the brochures.
Story of the night, by audience vote, went to Laura who brought out a classic older sibling torment story - the Hanging Lurgi. You know, where they pin you down on your back, and let a long string of goober dangle over your face, then suck it back into their mouth? That one. It made me sad actually, that my older brother was already married, because Laura's older sister would have been the perfect match.
Tomorrow sees the start of our improv kids show "Random Musical" in the Spiegeltent. It starts at 2pm, and runs til Sunday (not non stop til Sunday, you know what I mean). I'll be there Weds, Friday and Sunday - bring a small child and watch me sing almost adequately (I'm talking myself up again). An hour til show time, so I'd best go and cover up my GIANT SWOLLEN EYELID with some spackfiller. I don't know what I've done, but Cyclopses have been checking me out all day. I'm seriously considering a patch. Maybe even a nicotine one.
So: Saturday night was another full house, which was lovely, and packed full of delightful story tellers. My favourite thing that I did (I'm abandoning all pretense of modesty, because it was a particularly good pun) was rechristen a woman called Emma, who turned up to the wrong funeral, "Emmetary." I realise that the rest of the audience wasn't quite as excited as I was about it, but I did award myself 10 points for it, which was an excellent result.
An early audience favourite was Elizabeth Fart Fury (not her original name) whose older brother would say "put your face here," and when she placed her face as directed, he would fart into it. The audience was thrilled by the genius of its simplicity, and, I sensed, a touch sad that they hadn't thought of it themselves. Tragically, Elizabeth never caught on to the fact that the opening gambit of "put your face here" always ended the same way....
Story of the night went to Ram, who was an exchange student in Japan. Her new host family served her a Japanese pancake with fish flakes on the top, and the heat of the pancake made the fish flakes move. Ram, having never seen this before, thought they were live worms, and burst into tears. Her host family was mortified, but the language barrier meant she couldn't explain. Unsure what else to do, they took all the food off the table. Eventually, with the help of a dictionary, Ram explained about the worms. Her host family then kacked themselves - but still didn't tell Ram what they were.
Then, Sunday:
Sunday's show went up a touch late, due to the fact that everyone was being too magnificent at the debate (Jason Byrne outdid himself....) but was another great sold out show. My Mother in Law was in, which meant that she now knows a lot more about me, and my pre-husband antics than she perhaps expected to.
My favourite audience member of the season so far (apart from Grant, his Grandad and the Norwegian Nudity) (which sounds like a Roald Dahl story) was Marion. Marion was in the front row, had snow white hair, and looked just like my Gran. She was a dear little old lady, who loved everything we talked about (including/especially the saucy bits) and told us with great relish she'd been pinched on the bottom in France. I hope at her age I'm still going to comedy shows and laughing my pinched ass off (hell, I hope I'm still doing shows at her age).
Diane went to Easter Island, and was shot at by a nine year old, which frankly they should put on the brochures.
Story of the night, by audience vote, went to Laura who brought out a classic older sibling torment story - the Hanging Lurgi. You know, where they pin you down on your back, and let a long string of goober dangle over your face, then suck it back into their mouth? That one. It made me sad actually, that my older brother was already married, because Laura's older sister would have been the perfect match.
Tomorrow sees the start of our improv kids show "Random Musical" in the Spiegeltent. It starts at 2pm, and runs til Sunday (not non stop til Sunday, you know what I mean). I'll be there Weds, Friday and Sunday - bring a small child and watch me sing almost adequately (I'm talking myself up again). An hour til show time, so I'd best go and cover up my GIANT SWOLLEN EYELID with some spackfiller. I don't know what I've done, but Cyclopses have been checking me out all day. I'm seriously considering a patch. Maybe even a nicotine one.
April 7, 2012
Good Gracious Friday
Debate still looming, so another short synopsis for last night's show. Here are my two favourite stories:
Snowboarding last year, Carl was caught in an avalanche. He said he managed to swim his way to the top just as the snow came to rest, and that throughout, he was holding a video camera which caught the whole thing. I asked if the first thing he said when he clawed his way out was "This is so going on Facebook." In one of those WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT? moves, Carl still keeps on snowboarding. When I queried whether he keeps the avalanche footage on his phone to show people, he said - "No...it's on Facebook."
Story of the night went to a woman who had been interrupted in an intimate embrace, by her child. When I say child, I mean 17 year old. A 17 year old who'd just discovered that her parents hadn't only done it that one time, as she'd assumed. Mortification all round, but the best part was that when I asked her name to write up on the whiteboard, she said "its Gay." And thus, a small amount of pandemonium ensued (which she found just as hilarious as the rest of us) when I got to write the phrase, "I'm Gay, ask me about sex."
April 5, 2012
Thursday dressed up like it thinks it's Friday
Top show tonight, very short blog tho - frantically writing Great Debate for Sunday. (Turns out we can't get a live python - damnit) (It was going to be a great gag) (and a very good draught stopper). Anyhoo.
Best story of the night went to Anna who needed to get some panadol into her sick daughter. She wouldn't take it, so the Doctor suggested using a suppository, with lubrication. Anna dashed off to the supermarket to get some, child in tow. She found the KY jelly, and told her daughter she could choose a treat. In the queue, she became aware of people looking at her oddly, and glancing down, saw what her daughter had chosen for a snack. Sitting next to the KY jelly was a very large carrot. And even better, there was the mum from school standing in the queue behind her......
Best story of the night went to Anna who needed to get some panadol into her sick daughter. She wouldn't take it, so the Doctor suggested using a suppository, with lubrication. Anna dashed off to the supermarket to get some, child in tow. She found the KY jelly, and told her daughter she could choose a treat. In the queue, she became aware of people looking at her oddly, and glancing down, saw what her daughter had chosen for a snack. Sitting next to the KY jelly was a very large carrot. And even better, there was the mum from school standing in the queue behind her......
Whensday
Another corker show. I'm just loving all the things that people share! Another thing I'm loving is sneaking in early and hearing the last 15 mins of Asher Treleavan's show - he's just a bit great at what he does, that man.
Last night's show gave us Michelle, whose older sister boiled an egg, and pretended the white part was her eye coming out. Naturally Michelle was traumatized - to the extent that she only worked out a couple of years ago what had actually happened...
Gemma's older brother told her if she touched the container of weed killer she would die, and after accidentally touching it one day, she went inside and lined up all her Teddy Bears, to say goodbye....I thought it was interesting that she chose her toys, and not her family.
Last night's show gave us Michelle, whose older sister boiled an egg, and pretended the white part was her eye coming out. Naturally Michelle was traumatized - to the extent that she only worked out a couple of years ago what had actually happened...
Matt was lured into a suitcase by his older sister, and zipped inside for ten minutes.
Jennifer told us a very intimate story, which included accidentally leaving her BDSM diary (I hadn't heard of them either, but I think we can work out the general gist of the contents) in a suitcase at her grandmother's house. Once we had established that Matt wasn't in there as well, Jennifer told us that when her grandmother forwarded her the diary, she'd bound it shut with gaffer tape. To which I could only respond - well, it is a Bondage diary.
Leaving her windows open, Amy was overheard, and imitated in an intimate moment, by her neighbours. When I asked if she kept her windows closed now, she said "No! A woman should be allowed to have an orgasm at 10 o'clock on a Sunday night, if she wants!" Which I think is a wonderful motto to have, and we should all adopt it.
Then there was Kate. Glorious Kate. Her moment of mortification occurred after someone ran into the back of her car on the way to work. Rushing into an important meeting, she said "Sorry I'm late - I got done up the arse this morning." The whole room laughed for about 20 minutes. And then I made her say the line again. Still just as funny. There was no point in an audience vote at the end of the show to decide the best story - all I had to say was "it's Kate, isn't it?" and everyone ROFLed themselves in the face (I'm up with the kidspeak).
PS, someone pointed out that is was Roy Scheider who actually said "We're going to need a bigger whiteboard," in Jaws. For that to make sense, you'll have to go back and read a previous post (ooh look, I'm hooking you in...)
