Jennie Fahn

So I opened in a play last weekend. A lovely new play called "Grow A Pair... of Wings." I almost didn't do this play because I wasn't sure if I wanted to go to the callback at first. I don't know... playing a Jewish mom... it just seemed like too much of a cliche. But I'm so glad I did. As it so happens, this could be the last 99-seat show I EVER GET TO DO THANKS TO MY VERY HELPFUL UNION THAT JUST PASSED A THEATER KILLING PROPOSAL where small theaters will have to pony up money that apparently will appear from out of nowhere and line the pockets of actors that they will not be able to afford to hire. I'm probably overstating it and yelling too much. Small theater probably won't die altogethe

I reached the above point in my script today. Okay, I have a shitload of rewriting to do. But I forced myself across the finish line like a stubborn marathoner with blisters and torn sneakers and shredded running shorts... I once watched my brother in a cross-country race and there was this guy running and he was covered in bubbles. My mom said he must not have rinsed his clothes properly and between the sweat and the friction from running, he had re-activated all the detergent left in his clothes, so he was covered from the neck down in soap bubbles. That was me, today, sitting at my computer, with my keyboard sloppy with detergent bubbles from the friction of typing fingers and the sweat o