Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 09 by Stop in the Name of Pants! Read Free Book Online Page B

sad without me. I don’t like making boys cry. Although to be frank I would rather they were crying than me.
    Life can be cruel.
    Especially if you are vair vair sensitive like I am.
    two minutes later
    I don’t know what to do with myself now. I am full of excitementosity. And tensionosity. And just a hint of confusiosity.
    one minute later
    Maybe I should fill in time by learning some Pizza-a-gogo-ese. For when I go over. Being able to say only cappuccino is going to wear a bit thin after a few days.
    Masimo said he was off to some party tonight in Rome.
    five minutes later
    Should he be out having fun whilst I am hanging about like a monk in a monkhouse?
    That is the drawback to being the girlfriend of a rock legend, you have to hang around a lot.
    I may be driven to going round to listen to Wild Woman of the Forest ramble on about Hunky.
    on the way round
    If I am nice to her, she may smash open her secret piggy bank and give me spondulies to go to my beloved.
    Or else I could just steal the piggy.
    round at Jas’s
    Both her little eyes are swollen up.
    I put my arm around her and said, “Jas, I have found that when you are troubled, it is often better to think of others rather than yourself. I think you would feel much better if you got me some milky coffee and jammy dodgers and I told you all about me.”
    I had only just started when we were interrupted by Jas’s mum saying there was a phone call from Rosie for Jas and did she want to take it on her phone in the bedroom? Jas and I each listened on an extension. I was nestled up amongst the Owl folk and Jas was in her mum and dad’s bedroom on the other extension.
    Every time I ask for an extension and so on, Dad has a complete nervy spaz saying wubbish stuff like, “Why don’t you just have a phone glued to your head?”
    And so on.
    I am not surprised that Mum says she doesn’t share many interests with him. What I am surprised about is that she shares any.
    Roro said, “ Bonjour , groovers. I have had la bonne idea. Don’t you think it would be groovy and a laugh for us to work out some backing dances for Sven’s gig?”
    I said, “ Mais oui , that would be beau regarde and also magnifique and possibly groovy.”
    Jas said, “Well, as long as they are not silly.”
    Rosie and I laughed. Then I said, “We could have a Nordic theme. We have many Viking dances in our repertoire: the Viking disco inferno, the bison dance. We could make up another one.”
    Rosie said, “Yeah, grooveyard, we could have furry miniskirts and muffs.”
    home again
9:00 p.m.
    I have cheered Jas up and told her we will think of a plan vis-à-vis Tom.
    I didn’t mention the piggy bank, but I think it is on the shelf near her bed. Behind her mollusk collection.
    9:19 p.m.
    I don’t know why I didn’t realize I was born for the stage before. It is blindingly obvious even to a blind man on blind tablets that I am a backing dancer. That will be my career. I will travel with the band giving the world the benefit of my Viking disco inferno dance and so on. And it is very convenient romance wise because with Masimo as the lead singer of the Stiff Dylans and me as backing dancer, we can travel the globe of luuurve.

turbulent washing machine of love
    friday august 5th
    early evening
    Masimo hasn’t called again. Officially it’s my turn to call him on the number he gave me. That is what I would do if he was a girl, which he clearly isn’t, even if Dave says he is.
    Shut up about Dave. I feel a bit shy about calling Masimo. In one of my mum’s mags, it said, “Be a teaser, not a pleaser.” And it said you should never ring a boy; they should always ring you. So essentially, I am once more thrashing about in the tumble dryer of love.
    Oooh, what shall I do? Maybe I should send him a postcard.
    five minutes later
    But if I go out and buy a postcard, he might ring whilst I’m out. I