Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 06 (19 page)

“No, perhaps I won't tell you about the wombats. Robbie sends you his love, he said he hadn't heard from you. And he would really like it if you would write back.”

Jas looked at me in a “I told you so” way. I hope she is not going to be even more of Wise Woman of the Forest now that Hunky is back; it is the last thing I need. There was a bit of an akward pause. Then Tom said, “Look, Georgia, Robbie is
my brother and I love him.”

(Hang on, what is going on with blokes? Mincing on about their feelings. There is none of this stuff in the
Men Are from Knobland, Women Are from Pink Frilly Land
book.)

Tom saw my face and said, “No, Georgia, I am not on the turn. What I mean is, he left you and you can do anything you like. All I am doing is passing on a message. Anyway, I hear there have been developments on the Italian Stallion front.”

Radio Jas pretended to be checking her bag.

5:00 p.m.

Jas and Tom left me at Jas's gate and walked up her path with their arms around each other. I felt a bit lonely for my pal. Now that Tom was back I wouldn't have her to myself anymore and I thought about the times in Hamburger-a-gogo land and the bison-horns-nuddy-pants scenario.

Rosie had Sven. Even Mabs seems to be keen on Tossers's mate, Jools sort of has Rollo and even Ellen is keen on one of the backstage
MacUseless
people. I was beginning to be a spinster of the parish.

5:10 p.m.

I wandered off lonely as a clud once more, and as I walked along I got my mirror out of my havvy and looked in it. OK, I wasn't the most beautiful girl in the world but I had a nice face (ish) and Masimo had said he liked my eyes. Mind you, who knows what he had said to Lindsay, surely not “Oh,
caro
, you have the
biensimmo
tiny forehead.” I put on a bit of lippy and mascara and eyeliner. I would do a bit of hip waggling and flicky hair to cheer myself up. Amazingly, almost immediately a boy leaned out of a car window and went, “Niiiiiice.”

Crikey, a bit of lippy and hip waggling and you could rule boyworld. How vair vair superficial they were. On the other hand, I liked a good-looking boy myself, and I liked nice hair and I liked Masimo's clothes and scooter. I wouldn't like him just for that though.

Everything is vair vair confusing.

5:20 p.m.

I was crossing the road for home when Masimo sped round the corner on his scooter and came to a halt next to me.

He got off and took his helmet off quickly. He
didn't say anything; he just came over to me and snogged me. A proper No. 5. There in the middle of the street. Oscar and his mates were slouching along trailing their ruckies on the ground, walking backward and shouting, the usual boy stuff. When they saw Masimo snog me they all went, “Come on, my son, get in there!”

And so on. Sensationally mad.

Masimo didn't even notice them. He stopped kissing me and held me at arms' length.

“You didn't come last night. I missed you.”

I felt all flustered and red and before I could think I blurted out, “Did you? Why? Wasn't Lindsay enough for you?”

Masimo sat down on his scooter seat.

“Georgia, tell me what is all this.”

So I blabbed everything out. Things I didn't even know I was going to say. In other words, rubbish probably. Anyway I told him that I wasn't cut out for callous sophisticosity.

“I know that Dave the Laugh says that we are young and we hear the call of the Horn, and it is true, but I would give up the Horn to see how I felt properly.”

Masimo looked a bit puzzled.

“The Horn?”

“You know, like red bottomsity.”

“Red bottomosity.”

“You know, when you said you had been burned in the oven of life and you just wanted to live in Fun City. But I don't want to live in Fun City. Well, I do. But not with anyone, just with…anyway. That's what I mean.”

Masimo laughed. Crikey, he had a nice laugh.

“Oh, now I see, Signorina Georgia. You are saying you would like me to be your boyfriend.”

Blimey.

Now he had said it.

I went all red and stupid.

“Well. I suppose, yes I am. I'm sorry.”

He was just looking down at the ground.

Oh God, what had I done?

I tell you what I had done, I had listened to my stupid mother, who hadn't spoken a word of sense since Henry VII was alive. I had listened to someone who couldn't control her breasts. Ohgodohgodohgoddygod. I was a fool.

I had to say something because Masimo was so quiet.

I said, “Look, look forget it. I am sorry,
mi
dispiago
. I, well…it's just me, and you were not even thinking about…oh look, please forget what I said. I just can't do casualosity. It must be something in my genes.”

Masimo did look up then.

“You have something in your jeans?”

“No. Look, oh blimey, I had better go. I have a bath to fill and a bottle of gin to buy.”

I was about to start crying, I knew it, so I started to cross the road. And Masimo was just sitting there not saying anything.

 

I got into my house and just leant against the door, shaking. What had I done???

Angus and Gordy were sitting on the top of the bedroom stairs looking at me. Then they went back to their very important cat tasks. Angus was biffing something around with his paw, a poor little woodland creature, and Gordy had a spider or something. I knew what it felt like to be biffed around by the big furry paw of fate.

in my room

Oh goddy god's panties.

The letter from S.G. was still on my dressing
table where I had left it.

Another reminder of someone else I had lost. Why did he have to write to me now? I looked at his picture. Did he have to be so gorgey even when I was eschewing him with a firm hand and had put him in the basket of yesterday? Why was I even bothered? I suppose it was because he was my first true love. Ohhhbooo. I will NOT cry. Why did all this happen to me; had I really been a wasp like Jas said?

five minutes later

They say you always remember your first snog. And that is what he was. I was a snogging virgin until he came along with his guitar plucking.

two minutes later

Well, he was my first PROPER snog. No one could be expected to count whelk boy, unless you were some kind of pervert who liked mollusks.

one minute later

I wonder where the S.G.'s tape is that he made for me when I came back from Froggyland.

I think I put it at the back of my top drawer out
of Libby's reach, with my boy entrancers and special-occasion knickers.

two minutes later

I've found the tape, but where are my boy entrancers and special-occasion knickers? Dad's probably borrowed them.

one minute later

Put Robbie's tape on. I am full of nervosity because I do not want to be on the rack of love for him again. I am already on one rack.

three minutes later

“Oh No, It's Me Again” about Vincent van Gogh remains the most depressing song ever written. S.G. was not tip-top on the hilariosity front. Gorgey, though.

How full of confusiosity life is.

two minutes later

Looking out of my window at the empty streets of life. Why does nothing ever go right for me? I could see Mr. Next Door gardening in his enormous shorts. He could have a small African nation in
them and you would never know. But he has Mrs. Next Door to love him, shorts and all. And does he ever go looking for another Mrs. Next Door? No, he does not. He has big enough shorts to accommodate big red-bottomosity, but he does not use them. Then I saw Mark Big Gob coming up the street with his lardy mates and with his arm around yet another tiny girl. Why does he like teeny tiny girls?

More to the point, why do they like him?

How could anyone in their right mind snog him?

one minute later

Hang on a minute!!! Erlack, I'd managed to forget about him resting his hand on my basooma. Get out of my brain!!!!

four minutes later

Oh Masimo, what have I done? Why did I listen to my stupid mother? I never normally do. She may have ruined my future happiness with her “just be yourself” bollocks. Dave the Laugh warned me, he said that you had just come out of a serious relationship and only wanted to have fun. Why can't I just live in Fun City and not be bothered about

“Being Really Me” city? What does Dave the sodding Laugh know about it anyway? He has just finished with Rachel, and before that he dumped Ellen. He is a serial heartbreaker.

Although he hasn't broken my heart yet.

In fact, he has only ever been a bit mean to me when I used him as my red herring to attract the Sex God.

How many times have I accidentally snogged him? He is a good snogger, it has to be said.

three minutes later

What did he mean about me and him? He is just my mate. And occasional snog buddy.

Ohhhh, I will never be happy again.

Or eat again.

one minute later

Not that there ever is anything to eat in this place anyway.

in the kitchen

Oh joy unbounded, there is a bit of leftover cold sausage!!! What did Dave the Laugh say that really made me laugh when we were doing the battle
scene in
MacUseless
? Oh, I know. He was waving a sword around (very nearly cutting off Melanie Griffiths' nungas) and shouting, “Pants, pants!!! My kingdom for some pants!!!”

He is a vair funny person.

in my room

Well, why couldn't I just like Dave?

But then I thought of my night with Masimo when we had looked at the stars together, and I felt like crying.

If only I had had a chance to get to know him, I could have found out all about a different culture. I could have found out about neck snogging and everything. But I had well and truly blown it now. Wet Lindsay will be dancing about on her stick insect legs when she finds out. Which she is bound to because of Radio Jas.

I wonder if I should phone Jas up and see what she thinks?

Am I mad??? I might just as well phone Mrs. Mad in Maddingtonshire. Then I heard the familiar roar of a scooter engine.

Below my window.

 

The doorbell rang.

I had lost all gross motor control. I knew I should go and answer the door, but I couldn't move my legs. Oh marvelous, I was paralyzed. Come on, come on, legs, be brave, don't let me down now. Hahahahahaa, I was telling myself really crap inward jokes, hurrah!!! I eventually managed to stagger downstairs.

Oh
mon Dieu
, I hope I don't inadvertently go to the poo parlor division.

For confidence I picked up cross-eyed Gordy; he was busily chewing something, so he didn't attack me.

I opened the door.

Masimo was there.

Oh God.

He looked at me and his eyes looked so soft and sad.

“Georgia. This is a big thing. Give me a little time. I will see you in a week and I will say yes or no. I will not, how you say, I will not mess about with you, I will say yes or no.
Ciao, caro
.”

And he blew me a kiss and got on his scooter and accelerated off.

I shut the door and stood there holding on to
Gordy. What had I done???

Gordy looked up at me, eye to eye, and I looked down at him. He looked at me as if he could see deep into my soul and understood. He even stopped chewing the spider thing he had in his mouth.

And suddenly I understood as well.

It wasn't a spider he was eating…

And then he ate my boy entrancer.

agony aunt •
A woman in a magazine who gives you advice if you are a sad person with no one else to talk to. For instance, Jas might write, “Dear Agony Aunt, My friend Georgia is so much better-looking, cleverer and an all round brilliant person that I feel inadequate. What should I do?” And the agony aunt would write back, “Kill yourself.” (Not really, that last bit is a joke.)

 

billio •
From the Australian outback. A billycan was something Aborigines boiled their goodies up in, or whatever it is they eat. Anyway, billio means boiling things up. Therefore, “my cheeks ached like billio” means—er—very achy. I don't know why we say it. It's a mystery, like many things. But that's the beauty of life.

 

Blimey O'Reilly •
(as in “Blimey O'Reilly's trousers”) This is an Irish expression of disbelief and shock. Maybe Blimey O'Reilly was a famous Irish bloke who had extravagantly big trousers. We may never know the truth. The fact is, whoever he is, what you need to know is that a) it's Irish and b) it is Irish. I rest my case.

 

blodge •
Biology. Like geoggers—geography—or Froggie—French.

 

bloke •
You must know what a bloke is…it is a person
of the masculine gender. Hence the expression “my bloke”—as in “I am dumping my bloke because he is too thick.”

 

boy entrancers •
Ah, yes. The real emergence of the boy entrancers. Hmmm, well. Boy entrancers are false eyelashes. They are known as boy entrancers because they entrance boys. Normally. However, I have had some non-entrancing moments with them. For instance, when I put too much glue on to stick them on with. It was when I was at a Stiff Dylans' gig trying to entrance Masimo. I was intending to do that looking up at him and then looking down and then looking up again, and possibly a bit of flicky hair (as suggested in
How to Make Any Twit Fall in Love with You
). I did the looking at him and looking down thing, but when I tried to look up again I couldn't because my b.e.'s had stuck to my bottom lashes. So my eyes stayed shut. I tried raising my eyebrows (that must have looked good) and humming, but in the end out of sheer desperadoes I said, “Oooh, I love this one,” and went off doing blind disco dancing to Rolf Harris's “Two Little Boys.” So in conclusion…boy entrancers are good but be alert for glue extravaganzas.

 

bum-oley •
Quite literally bottom hole. I'm sorry but you did ask. Say it proudly (with a cheery smile and a Spanish accent).

 

chokey •
A prison cell. Also known as pokey. Maybe because they are quite small cells.

 

chuddie •
Chewing gum. This is an “i” word thing. We
have a lot of them in English due to our very busy lives, explaining stuff to other people not so fortunate as ourselves.

 

clud •
This is short for cloud. Lots of really long boring poems and so on can be made much snappier by abbreviating words. So Tennyson's poem called “Daffodils” (or “Daffs”) has the immortal line “I wandered lonely as a clud.”

Ditto Rom and Jul. Or Ham. Or Merc. Of Ven.

 

conk •
Nose. This is very interesting historically. A very long time ago (1066)—even before my grandad was born—a bloke called William the Conqueror (French) came to England and shot our King Harold in the eye. Typical. And people wonder why we don't like the French much. Anyway, William had a big nose and so to get our own back we called him William the Big Conkerer. If you see what I mean. I hope you do because I am exhausting myself with my hilariosity and historiosity.

 

David Blaine •
For heaven's sake, don't you know who he is? He is one of your lot. He is from New York, New York. He stands in blocks of ice for a year without food and steals people's watches. He came to England and hung around in a glass cage over Tower Bridge for a month. No one knows why.

 

do •
A “do” is any sort of occasion. We say “It's your birthday, let's have a bit of a do.” Or, as in Elvis's case, “Let's not have a leaving do, can't he just go?” Or perhaps I am being a bit harsh. No, I am not.

 

double cool with knobs •
“Double” and “with knobs” are instead of saying very or very, very, very, very. You'd feel silly saying, “He was very, very, very, very, very cool.” Also everyone would have fallen asleep before you had finished your sentence. So “double cool with knobs” is altogether snappier.

 

duffing up •
Duffing up is the female equivalent of beating up. It is not so violent and usually involves a lot of pushing with the occasional pinch.

 

five's court •
This is a typical Stalag 14 idea. It's minus 45 degrees outside so what should we do to entertain the schoolgirls? Let them stay inside in the cozy warmth and read? No. Let's build a concrete wall outside with a red line at waist height and let's make them go and hit a hard ball at the red line with their little freezing hands. What larks!

 

fringe •
Goofy short bit of hair that comes down to your eyebrows. Someone told me that American-type people call them “bangs” but this is so ridiculously strange that it's not worth thinking about. Some people can look very stylish with fringe (i.e., me) while others look goofy (Jas). The Beatles started it apparently. One of them had a German girlfriend, and she cut their hair with a pudding bowl and the rest is history.

 

Froggie and geoggers •
Froggie is short for French, geoggers is short for geography. Ditto blodge (biology) and lunck (lunch).

 

fule •
Fool. This is a more pleasant way of saying it (ish). It sounds more Christmas-ey somehow…“Let's all go sing a hey nonny no and bring in the Christmastide fule for the fire” and so on.

 

gob •
Gob is an attractive term for someone's mouth. For example, if you saw Mark (from up the road who has the biggest mouth known to womankind) you could yell politely, “Good Lord, Mark, don't open your gob, otherwise people may think you are a basking whale in trousers and throw a mackerel at you” or something else full of hilariosity.

 

gorgey •
Gorgeous. Like fabby (fabulous) and marvy (marvelous).

 

hobbit •
Do we really have to do this? Oh God, are we never to be free? A hobbit is one of those little creatures in the Lord of the Rings with really big ears. They're bloody lucky to get away with the ears compared to a lot of the other things in the books, orks and so on. Is there anyone in Lord of the Rings who is normal? Answer: no. The whole thing is a nightmare of beards.

 

horn •
When you “have the horn” it's the same as “having the big red bottom.”

 

jimjams •
Pajamas. Also pygmies or jammies.

 

keen •
If you are keen on someone, that means you really fancy them. However it is vair naff to let someone see you are keen, so you have to seem unkeen. Do you see?

 

Kiwi-a-gogo land •
New Zealand. “A-gogo land” can be used to liven up the otherwise really boring names of other countries. America, for instance, is Hamburger-a-gogo land. Mexico is Mariachi-a-gogo land and France is Frogs'-legs-a-gogo land.

 

knickers •
Panties you call them (wrongly). Knickers are a particular type of panty—huge and all encompassing. In the olden days (i.e., when Dad was born), all the ladies wore massive knickers that came to their knees. Many, many amusing songs were made up about knicker elastic breaking. This is because, as Slim, our headmistress, points out to anybody interested (i.e., no one), “In the old days people knew how to enjoy themselves with simple pleasures.” Well, I have news for her. We modern people enjoy ourselves with knicker stories, too. We often laugh as we imagine how many homeless people she could house in hers.

 

Land of the Big White Clots •
Now I am glad you asked me this because it is a hilarious play on words. (It is, believe me.) Anyway this is it. Kiwi-a-gogo land is called something in Maori that translates as “Land of the Big White Clouds.” But I have changed “clouds” to “clots” to hilarious effect, because it implies that Kiwi-a-gogo land is full of clots. Hahahahahahahaha!!!!

Oh dear God, you don't know what clots are, do you? I can feel my life ebbing away. But as it is you and I love you so much, I'll go on. “Clots” is an old Englishe worde for “fool,” i.e., a person who is in between a twit and a tosser.

 

“Late and Live” •
A late-night gig which has live bands on.

 

lippy •
Oh come on, you know what it is! Lipstick!! Honestly, what are you lot like!!

 

loo •
Lavatory. In America they say “rest room,” which is funny, as I never feel like having a rest when I go to the lavatory.

 

Maths •
Mathematics.

 

naff •
Unbearably and embarrasingly out of fashion and nerdy. Naff things are: Parents dancing to “modern” music, blue eyeshadow, blokes who wear socks with sandals, pigtails. You know what I mean.

 

nervy spaz •
Nervous spasm. Nearly the same as a nervy b. (nervous breakdown) or an F.T. (funny turn), only more spectacular on the physical side.

 

nub •
The heart of the matter. You can also say gist and thrust. This is from the name for the center of a wheel where the spokes come out. Or do I mean hub? Who cares. I feel a dance coming on.

 

nunga-nungas •
Basoomas. Girl's breasty business. Ellen's brother calls them nunga-nungas because he says that if you get hold of a girl's breast and pull it out and then let it go—it goes
nunga-nunga-nunga
. As I have said many, many times with great wisdomosity, there is something really wrong with boys.

 

O.A.P. card •
Stands for Old Age Pensioner card. This
is a card to identify the elderly mad in our midst. It is supposed to mean that they show their card and get on buses for free and get cheap tickets at the cinema and so on, but really it is to alert people to their presence so that they can be ejected when they start causing trouble. You know the sort of thing, rattling their sticks and clacking their boiled sweets against their false teeth in the quiet bits of the film.

 

Och Aye land •
Scotland. Land of the Braves. Or is that Indiana? I don't know, and I know I should because we are, after all, all human beings under our skins. But I still don't care.

 

oeuvre
•
Now this means…er…hang on a minute, maybe it is the French plural for eggs? Now you've got me all confused.
Un oeuf
, two
oeufs
…it's not two
oeuvre
, is it? Any fool would know that…. Yes, I am pretty sure that it means “work,” like in work of art. And not egg. Look, just leave it.

 

phased •
A bit put out by something. Full of confusiosity and redness, and inward mayhem.

 

Pizza-a-gogo land •
Masimoland. Land of wine, sun, olives and vair vair groovy Luuurve Gods. Italy. (The only bad point about Pizza-a-gogo land is their football players are so vain that if it rains, they all run off the pitch so that their hair doesn't get ruined. See also Chelsea players.)

 

prat •
A prat is a gormless oik. You make a prat of
yourself by mistakenly putting both legs down one knicker leg or by playing air guitar at pop concerts.

 

pressies •
Presents!!! Ditto choccies (chocolates). It is just another “i” thing.

 

quid •
In English currency a pound is called a quid. (I don't know why, to be frank with you, but what I do know is that it is nothing to do with Harry Potter and quidditch, so don't even go there.)

 

quiff •
You put some gel on your hair and make the front bit stick up in a wave. Elvis had one.

 

R.E. •
Religious education.

 

red bottomosity •
Having the big red bottom. This is vair vair interesting
vis-à-vis
nature. When a lady baboon is “in the mood” for luuuurve, she displays her big red bottom to the male baboon. (Apparently he wouldn't have a clue otherwise, but that is boys for you!!) Anyway, if you hear the call of the horn you are said to be displaying red bottomosity.

 

Robin Reliant •
Oh, please please don't ask me about this. Oh very well. You know how English people keep inventing things? For no reason? Well, we do. There's always some complete twit from a village called Little Beddingham or Middle Wallop—anyway, somewhere where there are no shops or television (or a decent lunatic asylum), and the complete twit is called Nigel or Terence and he invents things like a tiny shower for sparrows, or an ostrich eggcup. A nose picker, etc.
You get the idea. Anyway, one of these types called Robin invented a car that only had three wheels. A three-wheeled car. Er—that's it. That was his brilliant invention. No reason for it. It's a bit like that bloke who invented the monocycle. All they do is encourage clowns. They should be stopped really, but I am vair vair tired.

 

score •
Twenty pounds. (You are obsessed with money.) Score is a numbering system from Henry VIII's times. “Three score year and ten” meaning seventy years. You have no idea the amount of words we have to remember in our land. You are very lucky that you made up your own language and can miss letters out (like aluminum and 'erbs instead of herbs and so on).