now it’s time to say

now it’s time to say goodbye to all our company

I can hardly believe it. This weekend is the last time that Annex will be in its fourth avenue space. I’ve just finally figured out what they’re all about, and now everything is going to change. I really wish I could have seen Annex’s heyday, hanging out with Jillian and all the other early-Annex-crazies. What a blast that must have been. (Of course, what am I talking about. Who’s earlier and crazier than Edly? Speaking of which, thanks again for the book recommendation. It was addictive and fantastic and I loved it. Thank you.)

Anyway, the weekend will be insane. Annex partying and our anniversary and trying to keep a roof over our heads, oh my! Meanwhile, I’m checking voicemail every twenty minutes and driving Bill insane. (I just want to see if I got that job, you see.)

Time to go home, almost!
All companies should only work until noon on Fridays. What a brilliant idea.

like a shooting star, falling

like a shooting star, falling from the sky to die

well, welcome back. Me, I mean. You haven’t gone anywhere, I am the one who has been missing.

Temping does odd things to one’s brain.

So, I’m at IP Callison for the next two and a half weeks. My first Executive Assistant temp job. I’ve done plenty of reception/Admin asst. type work before, but in the first day here, during my training, I took TEN PAGES of incredibly detailed notes, and that was only the beginning. Trying to learn all the ins and outs of a job this complicated, in ONE DAY??? Frankly, I’m feeling a little wary. I mean, right now, obviously nothing is going on. That is because the entire office is at a retreat in Chehalis for the next two days. Or, rather, not “retreat” so much as “dinner and golfing”. After stressing about all the stuff I had to learn, it’s nice to be sitting here by myself, no longer doing everything under the scrutiny of Monica, who is (as far as I can tell) an uber-executive assistant. Damn is she good. Very together, knows every little shortcut in word and excel and outlook, and yet is still (and I’m guessing here) in her mid twenties and (not guessing HERE) fun to be around. She’s going on a road trip next week, and then the week after that she’s going to HAWAII with two of her girlfriends. Sickening, I tell you. What a fun-sounding trip.

Anyway, turns out that her roommate used to work at Jack Morton, where I’ve also temped before. Turns out her roommate got laid off right after I temped there - and just before good old Kelly started working there as their receptionist. (Kelly, if you ever read this, I miss you. We should hang out.) What a small world. This temping thing means that if I go much longer without finding a permanent job, I may very well end up knowing every single damn person in the entire downtown area! As well as, of course, my friends in South Seattle, and that company I quit my assignment for over in West Seattle. Ugh.

SO: job news. POP! Multimedia decided they were “not going to fill the position” at this time. I think this means they interviewed a whole bunch of people and then decided that none of them are good enough. This is obviously quite frustrating. Of course, the person who currently has the position is hella-cool, and maybe she just decided not to switch over to her new web producer job yet. Who knows. I’m starting to learn that I need to NOT get so excited about jobs when I really desperately want them. I just end up being sad all the time at my apparent un-hire-ability. (Note: that does not mean I am unable to hire. Just for clarification.) I’m considering writing one of those “would you please tell me what I could have improved about my interview, etc” emails. Maybe I would learn a thing or two.

SO: I applied for another job. My fave place to temp, so far, has been Committee for Children. The people there have always been so kind and accepting to me, and I really think what they do is important. Plus, and this has become perhaps my most important criterion in my job search: the people are fun. Their executive coordinator is so sweet, and the people there just really seem to care about each other and enjoy what they do. One thing I have learned in my temping adventures: this is not the case in every company. I really want to work with people I feel I can learn from - people with a good work ethic that might rub off on me - people with vision and passion and energy. I feel so full of useless right now. I’m getting so antsy and feeling like such a NON-valid contributor to society - it’s like a little kid who gets so hyper that they can’t stand it and start to cry for no reason, just because it’s something to do to let that pent up energy out. Temping is fun, meeting lots of new people is fun, going somewhere different every day of the week is fun. For awhile. But, now it’s been three months, and it’s getting old. QUICKLY. And this job just seems like it would be so perfect for me. (And, more importantly [at least to them,] I would be perfect for this JOB.) Oh well. The position closed today, so maybe I’ll hear something soon. I can only hope!

Anyway, enough Pollyanna “I have such dreams and aspirations” blather. I’m sure it seems like drivel, and one by one, my faithful friends are surfing on to more exotic and exciting blogs. SO, here is a bit of exciting news:

I can hardly believe it. Before Bill, my longest actual technical relationship was somewhere in the area of three months. And, for the record, it occurred in 1995. I’m just so proud of us for making it this long. We rule. And, let me apologize right now to everyone who has lost money on us in the “which couple will get engaged/married/whatever first” betting pool. I know there are many of you out there, and you have lost a substantial amount of money due to the exceptionally high odds placed on us, and I want to apologize to all of you. I assure you, there was no harm intended.

Now, the crappy part is - we are so stinking broke that, as far as I know, we aren’t even really doing anything for our big important anniversary. As of right now, I don’t even know if we’re going to make rent, which stinks. I really wanted to do something cool, but due to my not-real-job-having-state, we’re going to be lucky if we pull out of the next couple of weeks with our electricity and phones intact. sigh. I suppose we can just make up for it at our 3 1/2 year anniversary, which just happens to be New Year’s Day. (Convenient, isn’t it? We planned it that way.)

Another downside - the brother of a girl I was kind of friends with in high school passed away. We were … good acquaintances? We didn’t hang out with the same crowd, but she was a sweetie pie, and we got along well when we were together. (Somewhere, I think I still have a pair of her shoes sitting at the bottom of a box.) She was a year behind me in school, and her brother was a couple of years ahead. He died of a heart attack at the age of 25, and left his wife and his little girl behind. This has been such a year of sickness and death among people I know - maybe the millennium is upon us after all. It just kind of makes me wonder what it’s all for.

Anyway, excuse my pensive mood.
It must be time for a potty break.

you keep evading me with

you keep evading me with your selfrighteous camouflage uniform

Okay, this is the funniest shit ever. This coming St. Patrick’s day, my good friend Sarah Rosenzweig is marrying my friend Mark English. She went to school with Bill, Mark went to school with me, they’re great people, it’ll be fun as hell. They’re moving to San Diego in eight days, and pretty soon the pre-wedding festivities will be starting, and I can’t wait. I’m going to be in two Ole/Carle weddings next year. Always a bridesmaid… well, you know the rest.

So, here’s where the truly funkadelic part of this story comes in. Sarah has three bridesmaids - me, her cousin, and her best friend from waaaaaaayyyyy back. Mark has three groomsmen - his best friend from waaaaaayyyyyyy back, Mike Janus (the ex-roommate of Bill’s who was here all last week), and JOEL LEAKE. Yes, Joele. My pseudo-ex-boyfriend-kinda. The one I “gave up” for Bill. The one whose car was just totaled in the tornado. The same one who’s been on my mind for weeks in that odd “I should call him or email him, but…” way. I can’t even believe it. The same Joele who once told me that he would only come to my wedding, if I ever got married, if I let him be a bridesmaid. He’s a great guy, but, as Gillian would say, a total freakus budeakus. I just hope that he and I get to walk down the aisle together. It would be the only truly appropriate way for the whole thing to work.

I’m torn between being terribly excited to see him (since I haven’t seen him since what, last August?), and being apprehensive about it, because he’s a total drama queen, and nothing is ever what it seems. He’s the king of the cowardly mind games, but can be a damn fun guy to hang out with. So, who knows. It will either be a really fun time, and a great way to reconnect with an old friend, or it will just be one of those “God, so THIS is why I’m not with him anymore” situations. Of course, technically we were never actually together. See why this whole situation is so confusing?

I just told Sarah the bridesmaids need to be wearing green, because I know one of the groomsmen pretty damn well, and there is a high risk of some SERIOUS PINCHING.

psycho killer, qu’est-ce que

psycho killer, qu’est-ce que c’est?

bad alicia.
bad, bad, bad, bad alicia.
scary scary episode.
scary.

so, so stupid.
and nothing I could do about it.

let’s get stupid So, I

let’s get stupid

So, I was sitting at home watching “Gia”, one of my favorite movies, and pondering the transience of fame, when I suddenly realized that I had just missed the “Pearl” post-mortem. sigh. In retrospect, I probably yakked enough during the “Sizemore Interviews” post-mortem to make up for not being at this one, but I still felt like a shmo. I kvetch about people not seeing my show, and then I miss the post-mortem for the last show I did. I feel like quite the schmuck. Perhaps I need to set some priorities and not be so damned sensitive. That would be a good start.

I talked to Casie Perry for two and a half hours today - she is my second-longest-term friend that I still have. (First longest is M. Rose Barlow, whom I first met when we were in 7th grade.) I met Casie during band camp in 1993, right before we both headed off to IMSA (the Illinois Math and Science Academy). I was around for her first boyfriend (who is now a gay lawyer-in-training), etc etc etc. We don’t get to talk often, but when we do - even if it’s only once every three months - it’s always so nice to hear her voice again. It reminds me of the days before I became what Cosmo calls a GWG - Girl without Girlfriends. Apparently I am quite the cultural pariah. But, as Casie said today, “Guys are so much more chill. With other girls, I always feel like we’re competing for something.” I guess I can kind of understand how that feels. I know so many incredibly talented, gorgeous women… I mean, seriously. Anyway, I miss my Casie. It’s always so nice to talk to someone who knew you “back in the day”. Especially when they still enjoy your company.

even if I’m there

even if I’m there they’ll all imply that I might not last the day

So, Mass Murder is over. Bill, and Andrew and Tom (friends from college), and Nate (the great) came, and that was it. I don’t know how old I have to be before it stops hurting when people say they care about what I’m doing, but then they still don’t come. Maybe I’m just homesick for the days where I had a little group of friends who all came to everything that everyone else did. It was so nice to have that safety net, you know? That one night of the show where you knew that half the audience had come just to see YOU… and that was really cool. I shouldn’t expect to have that kind of support network in a place where I really don’t know people so well. I think I just miss being surrounded by friends who would kill for me. It’s so easy to feel totally adrift in a place where you have a lot of fun acquaintances but not any good, good ‘till-death-do-us-part friends. Except, of course, Bill. After he came to my show, he said that it was the best work I’ve ever done. That meant so much to me that maybe I don’t have the right to feel let down. Maybe he really is all I need.

More later when I’m not feeling so confused or sorry for myself.

they say that girl you

they say that girl you know she act so tough tough tough

My family isn’t coming. They were planning on coming to visit this weekend - they would get to see the closing weekend of my show, see our apartment, meet our dogs, tour the city… this was my big chance to show them what it is that I DO. To prove to them that I’m not an irresponsible failure who wasted my college career on a useless major and who can’t even keep my checkbook balanced and my bills paid. But, they’ve had to spend so much money fixing and insuring the car they bought us, since we can’t afford to do it ourselves, that now they can’t afford to come visit after all. I haven’t seen them since graduation thirteen months ago, and I probably won’t see them now until at least Christmas - that is, if we see my family for Christmas instead of Bill’s. I feel like a little kid who’s suddenly been told that Santa’s not coming, because I didn’t make my bed, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

Too much, too little, too

Too much, too little, too late

So, second weekend of Mass Murder. It went so, so well… our friend Tom Callahan (one of Bill’s college roommies, sorta) was here from Boston for the weekend, and it was so GREAT to be able to hang out with him again. He and Bill and another of Bill’s college roommies, Andrew White, came to the show on Saturday night. I was kind of freaking about what Bill would think of the show - I don’t know if any of you actresses out there agree, but it can be really intimidating to have your S.O. be someone in your field. Bill’s a writer and a director and an actor and a light designer and… everything. Sort of a multi-talented jack of all trades. And when it comes to what Bill thinks of the work I do, I turn into a nervous little girl kicking my feet in the dirt. I know it’s silly, but even after three years, it’s still true.

So, anyway. Bill, Tom, and Andrew were all there on Saturday night. I don’t think I’ve been that nervous before a performance in years - which, admittedly, wasn’t very nervous. For some reason, I don’t freak out before shows. At all. While this may seem like a good thing, it also means that I don’t get the focus and energy that pre-show jitters can lead to. Anyway, the show seemed to go well. Apparently, I freaked Bill out, which - under the circumstances - is a good sign. It’s still so thrilling to me to have him think I’ve done something well.

So, after the show, we went to Smackdown! at Annex. That was about the most fun I’ve had in months. Kelly Hill, who’s in MM with me, came along. She really got along with Tom and Andrew, which was great. She would love the Annex crew - Kelly’s one of those great people who knows what she wants, and dammit, she’s going to have it. Anyway, Smackdown was fantastic. Bill and I did a scene from “The King and I”, Tom and Andrew did a scene from “Driving Miss Daisy”, and somehow, Bill and Andrew and I all ended up going to the final round. Then, Andrew and I got to do a scene from “Frankie and Johnny” - I haven’t acted with Andrew since 1998, and it was good to do something with him again, even if it was only five minutes long. Apparently, Keira McDonald just about died watching Andrew do the “I love you and I want to get married” part of that scene. So, both of us made it to the final three - Andrew won the audience vote, and M.E. Dunn got the judges’ vote. Then, they both got to do a monologue from “Agnes of God”, and despite the fact that he talked a lot about his menstrual cycle, Andrew kicked some ass and won the whole shebang. I cannot WAIT to hear what kind of monologue Keri Healy creates for Andrew - he has had the kind of life that even the most gifted of sitcom writers wouldn’t be creative enough to come up with. All in all, it was a damn good weekend.

I didn’t ask, you

I didn’t ask, you shouldn’t have told me

There is a review of Mass Murder in the new Stranger. I only know this because it says, in the Stranger online event calendar, that there’s a review this issue. However, the review itself doesn’t appear to be in the online version. This means I have to find an actual paper copy. I haven’t read a paper paper in months.

In other news, I spent the morning digging through musty and moldy old files dating back to 1994, getting myself covered in narstiness and breaking out in hives. Then, I wrote down the names of every single file (literally, hundreds), and made them into typed, annotated lists. I attached the lists to the boxes - did I mention I made the boxes myself? Then, I carried all six boxes full of files (about fifty pounds each) back to the warehouse, where I carried them up this rickety sliding ladder thingy and put them on 8’ and 10’ shelves. Then, I took all the files I had carefully removed from the mass filing (they were on a list) and re-sorted and filed THEM all. Then, I called my temp agency, and told them about nearly blacking out while carring a 60-or-so-pound box up a rolling ladder while in a long skirt, and she says that it’s against Adams policy to have to lift more than 25 pounds in an administrative job. This, in and of itself, would have been enough to make me annoyed.

BUT, there is MORE.
The job is in West Seattle, sort of. Where, you ask? Klickitat Way, possibly the stupidest road name known to man. In order to get here by 8:00 this morning, I had to catch a bus at either 6:41 or 6:51 this morning, since the buses that come anywhere near here only run once or twice, way damn early in the morning. I missed the 6:41 bus (which would have connected to a bus which would have gotten me here at 7:15, and I would have had to sit around outside the building for 45 minutes until it was time for me to go to work.) As it was, I caught the 6:51 bus, which took me to another bus, which dropped me off twelve blocks away at 7:31. It is unbelievably annoying to me that I have to get up at 5:freaking:30 in the morning in order to be to this job by 8. By the time you count in the travel time, this becomes a 12-hour day, which evens out to just over SEVEN dollars an HOUR. Not worth it. So, I called the agency and said, basically, “I’m sorry, but I’m too damn tired to handle this crap, especially when I get here and all I do is carry heavy stuff up ladders and cover myself in the leftover dust from when you moved two months ago.” Anyway, I’m annoyed. I get off work in an hour and a half, by which point I will have been awake for eleven hours (or so), and then I’ll STILL have a forty minute wait until I can catch a bus which will take me to a bus which will not get me home until six thirty. Cripes.

POP! needs to call me NOW and tell me that I have that executive assistant job. I taught myself Outlook, I’m capable, I’m friendly, and I’m hardworking - except when I’m temping and feel that I’m being taken advantage of. Not cool.

There are places I remember

There are places I remember

Review #2! Huzzah! This time, the Seattle Weekly…

Mass Murder (Performing Arts)
Where: Northwest Actors Studio, 1100 E Pike, Seattle, 206-324-6328
When: Fri 6/8, Sat 6/9, Sun 6/10
What: Fine acting and occasionally brilliant writing make this evening of monologues shared by post-rampage serial killers an intense and, at points, extremely disturbing work. Standout performances include Eric Mayer’s Ted Bundy and Alicia Barta’s Nurse Genene Jones, the baby killer, both of which help the production achieve a rare squirm factor. It’s more than a little disquieting to have an actor aptly portraying both the all-American charm and the psychopathic denial of Bundy peer out into the audience and look you straight in the eye: “How are you tonight? Is your seat comfortable?” My speechlessness caused the gentleman in front of me to respond, to which Mr. Bundy said, smoothly, “No, not you, sir; the young lady behind you.” Northwest Actors Studio, 1100 E. Pike, 324-6328. $10-$12. 8 p.m. Fri.-Sun. Ends Sat. June 16. -Bethany Jean Clement

So far as good reviews go, we’re now 2 for 2! I just love being part of this production. It’s so, so odd, and yet so damn fun. What I’ve really been meaning to do is write a note to Dona Werner Freeman, my acting coach from college. I always knew that I wanted to do and be what she did and was. She’s an incredibly vibrant woman, mid-thirties, married to a dashing and fiscally solvent man, two absolutely adorable kids. She teaches acting classes by day at a small private college to a group of rabidly devoted students, and by night she acts with all the best little theatres in Minneapolis. She is, quite honestly, what I want to be when I grow up. When I decided I wanted to be a theatre major, she’s the one who took me under her wing and schooled me good! I kind of feel like I owe any success I ever have as an actor directly to her. Maybe I’ll send her a copy of the review and say thanks. There’s nothing I would like more than to be able to have her day-job — and hopefully, I would be able to make as much of a difference in the students’ lives as she has in mine. (sorry, having a cheesy nostalgic moment.) That’s why I want to save up and get my MFA. Right now I want to get it in Acting, but by the time I can actually afford it, I’ll probably want to do it in Theatre Education. I’m constantly realizing that I know nothing, and that’s pretty cool.

Bathroom magnetic poetry find

Bathroom magnetic poetry find of the day:

when I most need emotion from him
I get squirming sausage

I wish I was special

I wish I was special

Okay, I know it’s become blog vogue recently to quote Matty Fontaine, but christ. Here I sit, whimpering about the unfocused vortex that has taken over my brain, while there are people in this world whose personal hurricane is obviously of such velocity as to necessitate the choice between focus and explosion. This particular one is a rare example of something that I didn’t read, but rather felt. Damn.

Saturday, May 19

A Request

More rain, please!
Mornings, icy-bright, don.t stir
my batter anymore. I miss
the thought that I.m at sea; please,
more damp clouds to pad
this dry brain that jostles its case.
On Sunday afternoon I miss
the pitter pat, the drizzle drips
that tap a letter, long unread,
to mush on the moist sidewalk; also,
I always like to hear barbecues,
forgotten for the season, half
adrift on sumpy lawns, tink like muted
bells. I.ll listen as I sleep
through breakfast, under six afghans
(a lumpy involucrum sealed
against ridiculous entreats
like .Up and at .em!., or .Rise and shine!.;
commands, which, shrill or kind, are baffled
equally). My eyes are too awake
to shut at afternoon, they see
too much. Please, dim the lamp, let down
the soft sky.s touch that we
may rest a day. Or a year. Thanks.

9:34 AM

Hurry up please, it’s time

Hurry up please, it’s time

My Billy is starting his own theatre company, of sorts. It’s a bit like the Neofuturists (ie Too much light makes the baby go blind, or whatever) in that the company creates a series of short pieces and performs them. Not necessarily related but definitely relevant. For a long time, that was what I thought I wanted to do. I did a month-long, all day, every day performance art workshop my sophomore year of college. It was so intense that by the end of the month I felt like a completely different person. Suddenly, I knew what I wanted to do. That was the reason I became a theatre major. That was the deciding factor that tilted the scales - and it’s why I’m here today, doing what I’m doing. It was such a godlike experience - taking these incredibly, incredibly personal things and being able to purge them in public, and have people not only SUPPORT what I’d put out there, but offer a standing ovation in return. That experience turned my life around, quite literally. (It was the official end of my Bachelors of Music in French Horn Performance, at least.) So, anyway. Since then, I haven’t had a chance to tap into that sort of primal, visceral, creative, theatrical force. I haven’t had a reason to.

Anyway, back to Billy’s group. For the auditions, two pieces are required. One original, one not-original. And, of course, my brain has dissolved into panic. I don’t know if anyone besides me has read the book Girl, Interrupted, but there’s a section in there where she describes the way her brain works. People would imagine that things are moving slowly in there, as nothing seems to really be coming out. BUT, quite the contrary is actually true. She has so many minutae constantly dancing in her brain that it’s nearly impossible to pull out just one thing. So, what may appear to be writers’ block is, in fact, a veritable idea invasion of such vast proportions that I’m just terrifying myself. I sit and think “What about this? or, hey, what about THIS?” until my head spins, and my page remains blank. I cowrote a half-hour-long piece with such devoted focus that I nearly lost the rest of my life, and now that I’m trying to create three minutes of…anything… I find myself lost inside my own brain. So, so silly.

Love me, love me, say

Love me, love me, say that you love me

I was in a cold sweat thinking about this review. I’ve never been in a show where the critic talked about me directly. They might discuss who my character was, but I would never be one of the people who got a “so and so was horrible” or “so and so was great”. I was a tad freaked out because I assumed that in this show, I had a much bigger chance of getting personal attention. Apparently, that is not yet the case! I’ve forgotten how to do links (and the version of blogger I’m getting today doesn’t have the “link” button. Oh well. Time for some old-fashioned cut and paste!
http://www.tpsonline.org/discus/messages/8/1651.html?991744887

On a non-theatre note, I’m back at Committee for Children today and tomorrow. They are my favorites so far, I think. My sweetie supervisor from last time (who had just gotten engaged) has apparently just gotten back from two weeks in Hawaii - where she got married! It’s all very exciting. The people here are just so nice, and the job is much more fun than most of the assignments I’ve had. Thursday, though, I start on a month-long assignment. Since Adams knew I am sitting and waiting to hear about my dream job (at POP! Multimedia), they thought I might be a good choice for this one. It’s Architects, again, but hopefully it’ll be more fun than my last architect job. That was a great example of a situation where the people are great but the job just STINKS. Plus, I’ll be getting paid more than usual, which will be really nice, since Bill and I are SCREWED right now as far as bills go. We may end up giving back the car that my family gave us, because we’re just too broke to get it fixed and pay for parking and it’s just not worth it. Pretty sad. I love that car.

That’s my bag, baby So,

That’s my bag, baby

So, third night of the show! I was a little afraid that a Sunday night audience would be small and dead. Smallish, yes. Completely silent, yes. Dead, surprisingly, no. Not only that, good old Joe Boling was sitting right in front of me in the front row! I didn’t realize that was who it was until after the show. He had been paying such rapt attention that I found myself telling a great deal of the story directly to him. I have to admit that I can’t wait to see what he has to say about our show… I really have no objective clue as to whether it’s good or not. OH - okay, so this is the second run of the Mass Murder script - it premiered at Theatre Vertigo in Portland a couple of years ago. I think we sort of feel that we are always being compared to the “original” actors. Anyway, the director’s wife came opening night and said she liked me better than the original Genene. Pretty darn cool. =)

That’s why I’m easy, easy

That’s why I’m easy, easy like a Sunday morning

I love that post-performance-ecstasy-like-feeling. You know, when you’ve had a really great show and that feisty adrenaline just won’t leave your system, and it colors everything else you do. Anyway, Friday was opening night for Mass Murder at the NW Actor’s Studio. It was… okay. Not great, not horrible… pretty small house. (Pretty small house with a reviewer in it. Ugh.) But, it was nice to have that stress out of the way.

So, last night was performance #2. We were a bit afraid of the “Saturday Night Slump”, but it was nowhere to be seen. Since our run is culminating in a filming session (our play is becoming a movie, of sorts,) we get notes throughout the run. (I know some people hate this, but I LOVE it.) 3 of the 5 actors (myself included) had our best performance so far. My only note from the director: “You were fantastic tonight. I don’t have a single note for you - it was like you had a breakthrough and fixed everything!” Obviously, this is a good kind of note to get. I was THRILLED.

Then, I got to go drink with Billy, BenLau, and Nate Emmons at Satellite afterwards. God, I fucking love those boys. Of course, I was still so giddy that everything took on a vaguely unreal quality. (And no, that was not because of the wine, thank you very much.)

So, now it’s Commercial Time!
Everyone should come see Mass Murder. As it says in the program, if you like it, tell your friends. If you hate it, tell your enemies. We run June 1st - June 16th, Fri/Sat/Sun @8:00 pm. Tickets are $12 for the general public/$10 for students /$8 group rate. I personally have 3 comps and 3 group rate tix to give away, so if you want one let me know! Reservation line is 324-6328. Come to my show, come to my show! I’m so fond of Jeff (the director) that I want to do everything I can to help his new theatre company kick off in the best way possible.