I went to a dress rehearsal on Thursday with the proud parents (me in the part of the proud “uncle”). The four of us had a rollicking after-show party at Pizza Perfect. Her young male counterpart reminds me in this picture of something between an extra in “Oliver” and the Ziggy Stardust-era Mick Ronson. The well-developed buttocks belong to the lone male hired-gun dancer in the production—who did some very impressive girl-twirling and hoisting and solo leaping—and with that i will END (pun intended).
