Hot Stuff in Sydney

The strangest and yet most wonderfully bizarre and flattering moment of my weekend in Sydney came after the 2009 Theatresports National Championships, when we were having post-show celebratory ales in the small wine bar attached to the Enmore Theatre.

I was stopped in my tracks by David Collins, the curly-haired half of the Umbilical Brothers. He'd been one of the three judges, and while I'd seen him backstage, I'd been having a minor attack of major nerves and was too busy trying to re-curl my hair to attempt to introduce myself. So his pulling me to one side to say "Great show, congratulations, I enjoyed it," really was quite a thrill.

"Thank you!" I beamed at him.

"Yeah, it's funny," he said. "I was sitting next to Andrew Denton and his son, who at one point turned and said something like 'That Queensland girl - she's pretty sexy'. Or something like that. It was hilarious."

Que?

I looked at him.

"Are you pulling my leg?" I asked, somewhat astonished.

"No, true story!" he laughed. Then he tried to remember how old Andrew Denton's son actually was, but couldn't. All the while I'm wide-eyed and blushing somewhat, trying to discern whether he was in fact having me on - but he stuck to his story.

So apparently - Andrew Denton's son Connor (who as it turns out is about 14) thinks Yours Truly And Clumsily is Hot. Stuff.

Oh yeah. Beat THAT, other girl bloggers with fabulous lives!

Anyway, the show itself was just wonderful. I was nervous, because it was a 2000-SEAT VENUE THAT WAS COMPLETELY SOLD OUT. The players from Victoria, New South Wales and Western Australia were all so amazing, such brilliantly talented people - I was worried about being "the one who sucked". Thankfully, I happened to have two fairly awesome dudes on my team:

 Tom, Dave and I formed "When Pigs Fly" to represent Queensland.
And I'm going to wear a tie more often.

We had some great scenes together - chiefly for me a family "drama" in which my little girl character was forced by her Mum (Dave in a feather boa)  to write a song that would bring the Dad (Tom) back to the family. It was funny and sweet, and I managed to SING A SONG AND RHYME. That's a skill I've been having trouble with recently, so to pull off a rhyming verse and have the audience respond with loud applause was just brilliant.

(Also - I now love big theatres and must find a way to make money out of standing in a spotlight making people laugh.)

The best part about the night was the incredible amount of co-operation and support amongst the players. Technically we were four separate teams battling it out for glory, but really it was an ensemble show of 12 players. Everybody got up and played characters or props in other teams' scenes; I played an alien moon-dancer in a WA scene; a Girl Scout in a NSW scene; and part of the "aisle" in a wedding scene played out by Victoria.

After my nerves calmed a bit and I got more accustomed to the stage, it became more fun than a barrel of Ebola monkeys. It was like having the best seat in the house to watch the best improvisers in the country; with the added bonus of stage time. We placed fourth out of four teams - but what the hey. The crowd got a great show, we all had a blast, and it's whet my appetite for more. My thanks to everyone at Impro Australia for having us, all the other players for rocking so hard, and Dave and Tom for being fantastically talented and supportive team-mates.

I managed to grab about 5 hours' sleep after cast party shenanigans, before heading out to meet with some of Dave's Sydney-based friends (who all do marvellous things like work on Underbelly and The Chaser), and my good buddy Casey, who'd been at the show the night before, and told me my rapier sharp Sir Joh and oil spill gags that somewhat confused the Sydney audience were, in fact, dead set hilarious. We ate a great pub lunch, before Casey gave me a lift out to the airport. In his 1972 MG:

 

Look, Mum! I'm in a Grace Kelly movie!

What a great way to end the weekend - driving past old terrace houses on streets adorned by shades of trees and leaves in autumnal reds and golds, with the wind whipping through my hair - and my bag safely stored in the boot.