Till your face hurts

January makes me want to be in my pj’s by 8 o’clock, speaking as little as possible, and definitely not making plans to go anywhere. So what could stop this clearly ancient woman from slipping into a state of semi-hibernation and instead put on her going-to-town pants on a frigid Friday night? Well, they told me it would be a laugh. Andrea Avery has co-opted the idea of the live comedy variety show and taken it to the stage at The Guild in Charlottetown. They’re calling it: @fter Eight.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect when I arrived somewhat early for the distinctive door time of 7:37 pm. I do find myself more intrigued by bizarre specifics, like the joke has already started and at some point I’ll catch up. I have to shout out Becca Griffin’s installation in the North Nook Gallery for keeping me entertained while uncharacteristically early. When the velvet rope parted, the place filled up quickly, and I was happy for our advanced arrival as I foolishly hadn’t pre-purchased my tickets. Make a note of that for yourself because this was only the second instalment of what intends to be a monthly show. 

The game itself is a fusion of ridiculous improv and bizarrely open-ended questions, where our host and audience reaction decide the points. Three brave and amusing locals face off to maybe want to win and maybe kind of want to lose. The prizes so far have been reported to be haunted and cost less than five dollars at the thrift store. So I guess it’s glory and the love of the bit that drew them to the stage. 

It was so entertaining, I literally started laughing at the introductions and did not stop till the end. I genuinely began to wonder if I had one of those really distinct and recognizable laughs. You know what I mean, the ones that you can pick out of any crowd and sometimes you’re laughing at the laugh. Regardless, I couldn’t stop myself if I did and thought it best to not consider it much more. The next day my face and throat both hurt about it though. 

There were a number of interactive parts for the audience, both anonymously with your phone and getting pulled right up there on stage—but not against your will, so you can sit front row without fear.

I don’t want to give away too many of the categories because I’m assuming they change somewhat and also—spoilers—but about three quarters of the way through one of the contestants is eliminated. Then the final two go head to anonymous head for the last laugh and somewhat unsettling thrifted glory. 

It was a hysterical evening in my opinion, though if you think of someone as a pearl clutcher, I probably wouldn’t choose them for your date. Go laugh till your face hurts on February 7 at the hyper-specific time of 8:07 pm.