To quote a line from this Freulein's favorite movie
Apocalypse Now, "The horror, the horror". It may seem out of place for a nun who cares for seven children to love such a brutal movie but it's got Martin Sheen in his underpants, a nun has to get her kicks somewhere. But there is a real, valid reason I am quoting Mr. Marlon Brando, and that is because I just heard some very horrible news.
I am being replaced.
I know that not everyone is fond of me. I often can be found singing my heart out on Alpine mountain peaks and, oddly enough, some people do not find that charming. I know for a fact that my nun-peers sing songs about how I am a problem that needs solving.What am I, a quadratic equation? Well, I answer to a higher power, not the Nth power. And I have
heard you Sister Margaretta, so don't even deny! And P.S. I don't even wear curlers under my wimple. Have you
seen this hair? God is lucky I have devoted myself to him after the head of hair he gave me. These baby-fine follicles He bestowed upon me couldn't hold
a curl if they had fists.
So here's the thing. You all know how much I love reality TV (
yes, we have reality TV in 1930's Salzburg!), but as I just
found out on my Salzburgian Olde Timey Internets (and I found out sloooowly because in 1930's Salzburg we only have dial-up), there is a
new show devoted to ME. Specifically, finding someone else to do my job. And you know who is running the show? Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber. And I say "running" because his body of work reminds me of diarrhea (never-ending, uncomfortable, corny).
How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria? (there's that phrase again! All of you who ask that mean-spirited question can kiss my nun-bum) is a show devoted to finding a new Maria for the revival of the story of my life. But I have news for you! There is no need to "revive" that which is still "alive and kicking" to quote my other favorite thing, Simple Minds. Or is it Simply Red that's my favorite? Which one is the one who sang that song "I'll keep holdin' on"? I like that song the best. One winter when I went to the Matterhorn to go skiing with Mum and Daddy as a wee little Freulein, that song came into my head every time I rode the t-bar up the mountain because if you didn't hold on, you might slide off and end up one dead future-nun.
But seriously, I take offense to this show. I'm right here! Still taking care of the kids, still singing in clothes made of upholstery. It's like being Minnie Driver and hearing the Matt Damon dumped you when he was on Leno right after
Good Will Hunting premiered. It's news to me and I would have appreciated some warning. So to you, Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, I give your new show NEGATIVE SIX favorite things,
I give
Phantom of the Opera TWO favorite things because that chandelier stunt scared me and I like to be spooked,
I give
Cats ONE favorite thing because I like animals but hated having "Magical Mr. Mistoffelees" stuck in my head for two weeks,
and I give
Starlight Express one giant rollerskate made of poo that I haven't Photoshopped yet.
This Freulein has been so busy caring for the children that she has hardly had any time for herself! And as any adult is aware, when you get sucked into the lives of your children (and their hot Naval Captain father!), any plans you had for yourself to be a productive member of Austrian society go right out the floor-to-ceiling double French doors. I might be dowdy and anti-social but I do live in a castle, folks!
Recently though, I did have time to catch a very important film. I saw
An Inconvenient Truth and let me just say, Americans are stupid if they can't elect this guy to be their president. I skim
Newsweek, I know about all your red provinces. Arrondissements? States? What is it you Americans have there? However you draw your intra-national borders, if you all don't allow your hearts and minds to be touched by his personal history and informative Powerpointing, you are as frivolous as the Baroness when she goes to Vienna for a day of shopping.
So I spent two hours being thoroughly informed by Mr. Gore and don't plan on having the seven children I care for (even though they aren't biologically mine) to live a life of being too hot and also underwater. There are some people however, like my fellow Austrian and your California Governor, Arnold Schwarzenegger, who want to just drive around in one of my LEAST favorite things, the Hummer car, and continue to ruin things for everyone. Ok, so even though I liked
Kindergarten Cop, this penchant for running wild and careless with no regard for the earth most definitely IS a tumor. It
is a tumor. This way of thinking must be excised or else humanity will be finished. Done. Over. Destroyed. Ended. What's another word for that?
Having a more fuel-efficient car would have been a God send (my apologies, Reverend Mother) back when me and Von Trapp and the seven kids were running from the Nazis. Instead we had to stop what seemed like every half hour to re-fill our 4 kilometer-per-litre gas guzzler. The jig was almost up for us when we were attempting to cross the Swiss border with the Nazis hot on our trail, if it wasn't for a strategically placed St. Bernard crossing that Rolf and his cronies got stuck behind, we would have certainly met our doom and that would likely have been the day the music died. Bye, bye Miss Austrian Strudel, to put it in a way you might understand. Luckily we were saved by those medicine dogs, which, if I may make a suggestion to Mr. Gore, could be the subject of your next documentary film as a solution to America's health care crisis.
But truly, your heart will be touched by images of melting icecaps and animated polar bears who drown because they can't find an iceberg to sit on and you must try to see this film to make a difference. In fact, in the extended version of "My Favorite Things" there is an entire stanza devoted to how much I enjoy the earth because of it's ability to maintain an inhabitable temperature, and also how penguins are very cute. I don't want that stanza to make very little sense to future generations of singers, do you? So see this film and educate yourself. Your children will thank you for not caring more about industrialization than their own futures which will become unbearably hot and humid. And as we all know, the only thing worse than a "wet heat" is being a lonely goatherder. Or a nun who can't act on her lusty feelings. I give this film the whole shebang, schnitzel with noodles and all.
One of the things I, Freulein Maria, am really committed to (aside from the power of song and eventually trying the apple strudel at Del Posto) is the exploration of our bodies and thus, ourselves. Also I love visiting tourist attractions. So the
Bodies: The Exhibition exhibition at the South Street Seaport covered all my bases, to use one of your American colloquialisms. Did I use it correctly? The only things remotely athletic about me are my ability to do the Laendler folk dance and a knack for acclimating well to high altitudes, so what do I know about American sports analogies?
This exhibit ain't cheap, folks. I had to say so long, farewell to $24 in order to see it but to be honest, when else was Maria going to get a chance to see the preserved, sliced up bodies of hundreds of
Chinese political prisoners unclaimed, deceased hospital patients? In some instances the bodies were completely skinned to show the layers of muscle, bone and nerves but I did think it was funny when all the skin was removed, save for the eyebrows, on several of them. It reminded me of Liesl's Nazi bike-messenger boyfriend Rolf and his blonde, blonde eyebrows. It's like oh hi there, you seem like a normal guy from a distance why don't we get a little closer to have a nice chat and - oh my God, look at those things! How have you managed to live seventeen-going-on-eighteen years with those?? Just For Men...all
it takes is five minutes, Rolf. The dead Chinese guys though, they can't help it, their looks and everything else are now at someone else's mercy.
I don't know if you all knew this about old Maria but I have an obsession with morbidity. Which is why the basic body stuff was cool, but the black lungs, teeth and hair growing out of uteruses and colon polyps were cooler. The fetus room was also well worth the price of admission which, it's worth reiterating, was expensive for someone on a nun's salary. God giveth but the Bodies people taketh away and then the service charge people taketh away just a little more since I ordereth over the phone.
Not only was this show fascinating and it didn't smell the way I thought dead bodies might smell, but it was a learning experience. I learned what a body looks like when its sliced in cross sections (surprisingly like those petrified rock drink coasters they sell at Natural Wonders) so that's an image I won't be forgetting.
Bodies: The Exhibition, I give you four out of six favorite things:
Last night Von Trapp gave me the night off - said he still felt bad about the pine cone incident at dinner and wanted me to take some "Maria Time" which was cool. I know, I KNOW I should still hate him for not changing my whistle call to "Since U Been Gone", I mean I don't even care if he downloads a ringtone and uses it to call me when he needs something, but I think he's h-o-t HOT! Do-Re-Me so horny for the Captain, raaor!
Anyway, I toyed with the idea of making new outfits for the kids out of my duvet but I feel like lately all my sewing seems a little too much like a Project Runway challenge. Sister Margaretta made fun of me last year for jazzing up my habit with silk charmeuse like, "Oh look
someone thinks she's Austin Scarlett!" and I was like "Shut it, Wendy Pepper! I know you sings songs about me!". Literally, she is toxic and totally contaminates our love for God and nature and stuff with her negativo attitudo. She and that bitch Baroness Schrader can both take a flying leap off a beautiful Austrian mountain top and make a hard landing in a crisp, stony brook that is very deep and very fatal, I dont care. Speaking of Project Runway, Santino has toootally grown on me! Who knew, right? Marta still hates him because he has yet to produce any outfits with a pink parasol, but that's just a matter of personal style, I say. We are all entitled to our opinion as long as you respect others, that's what I've been trying to instill in the children while we "watch what happens" on Bravo. That and don't be a Nazi.
Am I getting off track or what? I actually have a point here. So, last night. I had the night off, right? And I saw
We Used to Go Out at the
UCB and I (emoticon hearted) it. I know, Chelsea is a long way from Salzburg, but somehow I managed. I sang a song and by the end I was in New York City. Have you not learned that when music is in your life, anything is possible? Don't make me take a second role as a singing nanny to prove this point.
I laughed so hard during this show, I worried that I might pee in my homemade pants. Luckily I didn't, and there were actually other audience members that were more distracting than old Maria and her snort of a laugh! Like the guy in the front row who looked like he was eating a stick of pepperoni.
Cured meat-eaters aside, the show was hilarious and at times the relationship stuff was a little too real for my "I deny my feelings for men who aren't God" lifestyle. On my scale of reviews I give it 5 out of 6 Favorite Things, but only because I couldn't find a picture of schnitzel with noodle. Stupid Google Image search!
a curl if they had fists.
