Me is emcee

It is the third Wednesday of my hitherto tepid December vacation, and I am spending most of it sitting at the VCH backstage watching flame-haired people walking around adjusting poorly-knotted neckties in the mirror; the smell of hairspray, gel and cheap perfume is heavy in the air and I feel I could be doing so much better for myself. Like, I have a turkey defrosting in the fridge which needs some attention, and there are raspberry macarons I'm supposed to be turning out for Christmas that are still stuck in my mind's to-do list. There's also the foregone prospect of lying in bed finishing the 800+ more pages I have left of 'A Suitable Boy', Vikram Seth's exercise in waxing excessive. Instead, I am here, waiting to emcee for SP's band concert, feeling generally morose and grumpy that all I received in payment was a packet of vinegary fried noodles which I quietly put back on the table. 

This is the 3rd Leonard Tan concert I am emceeing for this month, which is kinda cool cause I feel like a part of his entourage or something- $500 for the Leonard Tan package, emcee included. This is definitely going on my resumé when I apply to NUS Centre for the Arts to be the official CFA Emcee du jour. I don't suppose I might earn quite a tidy sum from standing in front of bored audiences every week going "(insert acronym) will now play Random Overture by Obscure American Composer" in my best TV announcer voice, but it is tremendous fun picking shirts to wear and thinking of ways to inflect "good evening Ladies and Gentlemen and welcome to (insert Italian musical term)!" 

2 weeks ago, I emceed for the Philwinds concert, also conducted by the amazing Leonard Tan, though the reception I got was kinda stinky. People gave me judgy "who the hell are you" looks while, in the grand tradition of that indefatigably standoffish ensemble, treating me like the little nyonya. A colder bunch never I conceived, I swear I heard sniggers coming from behind me when I took my position on stage, tried inflection #4 of "good evening (see above)" and the mic wasn't on. I tried my double-dimpled smile at the audience, and must have stood there for the most hot-collared 30 seconds of my life before the bumbling backstage guy came out with another mic.  

People should be nicer to emcees. It's not easy to stand in front of a crowd and talk, simmering in full knowledge that everyone just wants you to get it over with and let the performance go on. Sometimes I wonder why all these groups insist on having emcees when no one really listens to us anyway, and most of the time, most emcees are either terribly bad or, especially if they come in pairs, lame, uninspiring and badly scripted. I consider myself quite the sterling example of a good emcee, being not too unattractive and capable of a great Singapore-good-English accent. It's all swoopy bass and dramatic pauses, it's like playing Scheherazade with a microphone. My genius, I believe, stems from years of writing scripts for hopeless emcees and listening to good emcees reading shitty scripts, and I am, of course, being a little turd.

-Intermission-

Anyway, random SP band people have been walking up to thank me, which is such a pleasant gesture, though some moolah would be nice, considering the expensive lunch I ate to prep myself emotionally for the ritual stoning of the emcee. 

It's now the intermission, and the concert's been pretty good, though there was the typical audience-mumble and occasional mocking titter at something I pronounced impeccably (people find it amusing how simple words like 'familiar' sound when enunciated as they should be).   

Anyway, fun as this has been, I really can't wait to skidadle out of here, and now there's a huge 30-40 minute lull before I go out to send the audience of ingrates off to their happy suppers and margaritas while I plod on home, lonesome as a bee. 

Self-pity looks so good on me, I should really make it a trademark.