Rosie O’Donnell: ‘Meat Loaf’s mother wrote me and said, “You...

Your show is called Common Knowledge. What do you think should be common knowledge but isn’t?

That every life is equal value to each other. And I think people forget that, and that’s why atrocities like Gaza are allowed to happen.

Part of your show is a love letter to your new home of Ireland. Who is your favourite Irish person?

Living or dead … Sinéad [O’Connor]. I loved Sinéad. I thought she was an unbelievable artist and truth teller in a world that wasn’t ready for it yet. I’ve read all of her stuff that she ever wrote, and all of her lyrics. I have tremendous empathy and sympathy for her and how she lived – and sadly died so soon.

What is the weirdest thing that has happened to you on stage?

Meat Loaf french-kissed me [on The Rosie O’Donnell Show]. Well, we were doing that song [Paradise by the Dashboard Light] and he put me in a dip, and then he kissed me with his tongue. I was like, what the hell is going on? And it was live TV, so I didn’t quite know what to do. So I looked up and I was like, “OK! Uh, Meat Loaf … We’ll be back right after this!”

It was just something. And then his mother wrote me and said, “You can’t be mean to my son. He’s a lovely man, and you embarrassed him.” I’m like, well, I’m sorry that I didn’t want to be french-kissed by him without warning.

Did it taste like meat loaf as well?

It did. With a little gravy.

You recently appeared in And Just Like That as a lesbian nun who comes to New York and then romances Miranda with every New York cliche under the sun. In that spirit … what is the most embarrassing thing you have done for love?

Oh, boy. Mostly … waited around. Waited around until it felt possible, you know. And I think that is romantic: to know something and then to wait until it’s right. I don’t do grandiose gestures, like flying somebody to Italy for dinner. That seems romantic, although exhausting. It takes patience and understanding and forgiving – a lot of forgiving, and forgiving yourself! – to be able to stand truly naked and vulnerable and honest beside the person that you love.

What is the strangest job you’ve ever had?

I worked at the Sears store in the catalogue department. So people would come in and ask for the things they ordered and I would go back into the bins and find it. Often, I was left to tell them that although they only kept one shirt [and returned the rest], they needed to pay the full shipping, because the cost of shipping one shirt is different than shipping five. They would say, “Well, I’m not paying that”, so I would end up giving money from my pocket. Like, “Alright, here’s your $3, thank you.”

I ended up losing money at the job. I’m a bleeding heart. Everyone says I’m so tough. I’m like, if you only knew …

The manager found out and he thought it was so nice of me that he said, “We’re going to make sure you don’t have to deal with customers. We’ll just have you in the back doing the bins.”

What has been your most memorable interaction with a fan?

The people who see me and start to cry. I always understand, because that’s how I felt about Barbra Streisand – not that I’m equating myself to her at all – because, believe me, I’m not and I never will. But my reaction to her is similar to their reaction to me, and I always try to be overly present and deliver for them in some way.

How often do people cry?

Not a lot, but more than you would think. Sometimes I’ll be in the supermarket with my kid and I just see somebody stop and then their eyes fill up. And I go, here we go. They say, “Are you Rosie?” I say, “I certainly am.” They say, “I knew it was you. I just can’t! I can’t believe this is happening!”

[I’m like], “What can I do for you? What can I tell you? Do you have a question? What do you want to know?” And they just keep crying. They cry more, and then they apologise for crying, and then I tell them “don’t be silly”, and they try to take a picture, and they’re so discombobulated they can’t get the picture, right? But it’s a beautiful human connection.

If you could change the size of any animal to keep as a pet, what would it be?

I’m gonna say kangaroo, because they’re so adorable – until I saw the one that looks like a prize fighter. Like Arnold Schwarzenegger meets Mike Tyson. It looked like the scariest man on steroids from the gym. And then I saw a thing where it kicked someone and the person flew back like 40 feet. It felt terribly scary – and I thought, if [only] they were cute and little.

I love squirrels too. I had pet squirrels. I hand-fed them; they came right to me. They would jump on me, climb on me and I would put them on my TikTok. And people would be like, “You’re going to get bit!” First of all, they don’t carry rabies, and second of all, they don’t bite humans on the whole unless there’s something wrong with them. I could tell their personalities.

When you get to a hotel, what’s the first thing you do?

Make sure the lock works. I have a friend who never locks the door at a hotel. I’m like, “Do you understand everyone has a pass key? If you don’t put the lock on it, anyone could come in and murder you in the middle of the night.” She’s like, “No one’s gonna murder me.” Oh my god – to live like that! I believe in a good, sturdy lock. And use it – frequently.

What film do you always return to and why?

The Sound of Music. Fighting fascism, with songs interspersed, climbing over those mountains; the nuns saying, “Reverend Mother, I have sinned”, and having the carburettors.

I was on a show [this week] called Have You Been Paying Attention? And while they were talking about The Sound of Music, somebody said, “Kurt, who was the bad Nazi guy … ” I’m like, “Kurt is one of the children! That was Rolfe! Get your Sound of Music facts right, sir! How dare you!”

It’s my favourite movie of all time. If I see it on, I stop and I watch every single thing. And I think it’s the most beautiful performance by both Christopher Plummer and the amazing Julie Andrews. I can’t have people attacking my Julie Andrews.

What is the oldest thing you have and why do you still have it?

A piece of jewellery my mother gave to me when she was in the hospital, sick, and I never took it out of the box. It’s a little pretend ring for a little girl. I look at it sometimes and I go, well, it’s the memory of one of the last times I saw my mother.

I also have this toy that I got for my 10th birthday, which is interesting: that’s when my mum died. [The gift was] from Paula Mattarella, who was in my class in third or fourth grade. I see it in my apartment in New York and I’m like, I can’t believe I still have that toy. It was a little gummy sculpture-like, but it moved or wiggled a little bit, like a bobble head. It had two plastic eyes and it’s a rabbit. Hello, Paula!

Rosie O’Donnell performs her show Common Knowledge at Sydney Opera House at 2pm and 8pm on 9 October, and Melbourne’s Hamer Hall on 19 October