Singing of whores and venereal disease

A Stella-r (geddit? geddit? guffaw...) performance calls for a reprise. We were invited to re-perform Blue Willow House and Victorian Days at the NAFA black box where it'd be opened up to NAFA students and anyone else who wanted to watch. Hence we found ourselves playing to a younger audience on Sunday in a freezing little theatre with air so dry that several of us found our voices cracking.
"Hear the Rain" was apparently the most addictive tune in the musical (Kelvin said the riff repeated over and over in his head for several days after watching our Esplanade run). Wish we'd gotten a picture of the finale version of it - we were all standing solely backlit in blue, giving us a deliberate ghost-like effect. Paul, our stage manager, says the effect is fantastic but I still have no idea what the heck it looks like.

Whadya know...when Paul finally gets due mention in the programme, lighting goes to hell. Apparently, the ageing computer that controls the lighting system ran out of RAM, which is how we found the house lights suddenly beaming over the audience in the middle of BWH, and Juz had to sing a portion of his lovely solo in complete darkness the next moment. Good thing they rebooted the computer during the interval so at least VD ran without a hitch.
Finally a decent shot of me on stage without my face contorted to some weird expression. Here I am in BWH as old, diseased whore May Lee. Contrast that with...

Me as a nun in VD! Wait...make that four of us that make the complete turnaround from 'ho to nun. I was seriously keh leh feh in VD, though. Spent most of the run sitting at the back gathering moss. At least in BWH I got to belt a few tunes in a schizo range.
This is my favourite photo of the lot taken during our dress rehearsal of BWH. (P.S. All photos above except for one with the nuns are courtesy of Chester, our VD accompanist and shutterbug extraordinaire.)
Yet another pic of us fooling around in the Esplanade dressing room. And those large white spots on our faces are our mics, not humongous zits. Me, Amanda and Jamie (L-R) tarting it up for Chester.

With it all finally over for good, we headed to Brewerkz for supper where I finally found a truly American-sized burger in Singapore (no, I couldn't finish it at midnight). Camera junkies Michelle and Amanda went from each person to the next doing Mich's famous long-arm DYI shots.

When I went home and took a look in the mirror, I decided not to let my creepy stage makeup go to waste and did a few of my own long-arm DYI shots. Besides, I reckon it'll be a while before I feel inclined to slap on this much makeup again. (Wait a sec...I'll be doing just that for my Riceball performance on Friday. Dang it.) Anyway, Art very gallantly offered to edit the photo for me so I wouldn't shine like a Thanksgiving turkey. Think he tinkered with the colour and contrast as well. Wish he'd given me a facelift too while he was at it.