Saturday, June 14, was a wild night in Wytheville, Virginia, as stand-up comedian Caroline Rhea took the stage at the historic Millwald Theatre for an evening filled with raucous laughter—and a touch of culture shock.
The Canadian-born star, best known for her role as Aunt Hilda on Sabrina the Teenage Witch, now lives in Los Angeles. She admitted she’s never been more frequently corrected on the pronunciation of a town’s name. “Wytheville” quickly became a running gag during her 77-minute set.
Though her onstage persona couldn’t be further from the family-friendly character she’s famous for, a few determined teenagers managed to slip into the mostly 21+ crowd to see their favorite TV star. Rhea acknowledged the jarring contrast.
“It’s a little like finding out your kindergarten teacher is a stripper,” she quipped.
In addition to finally learning how to pronounce Wytheville, Rhea took delight in the surrounding towns’ unusual names—like Ivanhoe and Galax. The latter particularly tickled her.
“Why that name hasn’t been used for an enema, I’ll never know,” she said with a grin.
As always, Rhea’s humor blended self-deprecation with observational wit. “I’m very codependent, and I worry about the world,” she confessed. “When my friends laugh really hard, I pee in their pants.”
Honestly, I wish she could have done that for me. The laughter took over my disabled, slightly incontinent body—a mess my wife had to help clean up when I got home, unfortunately.
The presence of such a seasoned comedy and television veteran should have made for an instant sellout at the Millwald. That it didn’t was disappointing—both for our town and the comedian herself.
“I’m not quite sure why the whole town didn’t show up tonight,” she said shortly after walking on stage. “I spent the day exploring, and from what I saw, it’s not like there are many other entertainment options around here.”
A longtime lover of garage sales, Rhea found one local business particularly intriguing.
“After the show, we’re all breaking into JoJo’s Attic so I can grab those antiques I saw and couldn’t buy,” she joked. “I’m running low on picture frames. I only have 2,000.”
Her comedic style thrives on audience interaction. She playfully asked several attendees their zodiac signs. As fellow Aries, she and I apparently have a lot in common: namely, a tendency to start ten different stories and finish none. It made for an erratic, but highly entertaining, performance.
Like me, she’s the parent of a single daughter—one she lives to please, but who often finds her embarrassing.
“It’s really not our fault,” she explained. “It’s nothing personal against us. It’s just the way our children see us.”
Her obsession with astrology was a recurring theme throughout the show.
“I had an emergency C-section because I was at high risk of giving birth to a Scorpio,” she said. “I didn’t want to raise a daughter who was that good at sex and that unwilling to forgive.”
The 61-year-old comedian also shared candid—and hilarious—tales from her dating life after 50.
“I went on a blind date with a guy who had a lazy eye,” she told us. “We broke up soon after because he was seeing someone else on the side.” She paused, then added, “That joke would be even funnier if it weren’t a true story.”
She also recalled a moment involving her health-conscious diet and an innocent-looking spoonful of peanut butter she found on her sister’s kitchen table.
Thinking it was a healthy 12 grams of protein, she helped herself. Moments later, her sister returned.
“I know I left a spoonful of peanut butter here,” her sister said. “I put the dog’s medicine in it and everything.”
“At that point, I became a full-fledged dog in five minutes,” Rhea recalled. “I was scooting my butt in circles across the rug and peeing on her bedroom floor for months.”
“I feel sick,” she told her sister.
“Well, at least you’re not going to get ringworm,” her sister replied.
Rhea’s opening act was 30-year-old CJ Marer, a struggling actor and comedian currently living in the Los Angeles area. Originally from a small town in Rhode Island, Marer quickly established his underdog charm with the audience.
He recounted his only audition for a Hallmark movie. “I auditioned for the male lead, which basically meant I had to stay shirtless and do all the handyman work throughout the film,” he explained. “When I took off my shirt, the directors winced.”
He mimicked the casting conversation: “Did you expect him to really be that pale?” one director asked the other. “How can he be skinny and fat at the same time?”
Marer joked that most of the roles he plays.
“I usually show up at the beginning of the movie to ask who the guy is she’s talking to,” he said. “By the end, I’m either dumped or dead. That’s the extent of my acting career.”
He described one particularly rough patch when his apartment was broken into—but nothing of his was stolen. Instead, the burglars left behind a note and a watch they’d apparently taken from somewhere else.
The note read:
‘We realize times are hard for you right now. Take care of yourself. If you ever want to join us, we’re looking for other guys to help us with jobs.’
“My roommates were mad,” he said, “but I had a new watch and a job interview—two things I didn’t have before the robbery.”
Marer was a particular hit with the female members of the audience, earning more than a few catcalls and whistles during his time on stage.
All in all, it was a thoroughly entertaining night—and a relatively historic one in Wytheville’s entertainment history. For me personally, it was a true honor to meet both comedians and to interview Caroline Rhea for my podcast. She couldn’t have been more gracious and generous with her time. It was, without question, a career pinnacle.
To listen to the full interview, follow this link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rg5-9Yveqrw
