Dancing in My Nuddy-Pants by Louise Rennison
In the two-and-a-half months or so covered in this title, Georgie (a) goes to Paris, (b) is made hockey captain, (c) accidentally snogs Dave the Laugh (again), (c) purposely snogs Robbie (the Sex God) several times, (d) again proves herself to be a champion for Nauseating P. Green, underdog, and (e) engages in much internal debate over her own red bottomosity and General Horn.
As you might expect, I laughed myself senseless at several points in this book, and, as per usual, some of those places involved Libby, her five-year old sister.
11:00 p.m.
Libby has got all her toys in my bed AGAIN! All their heads are lined up on my pillow. And some of her toys are quite literally just heads. I don't know exactly how beheading is going to be useful in her future career, but she is bloody good at it.
Libbs popped out from my wardrobe in the nuddy-pants, but wearing A LOT of Mum's eye shadow, and not on her eyes.
"Heggo, Ginger, it's me!"
"I knowit's you, Libbs-look, sweetheart, wouldn't you like to go in your own snuggly,cozy bed and-"
"Shut up, bad boy. Snuggle."
"Libby, I can't snuggle; you've got too many things in my bed."
"No."
"Yes."
"Get in."
"Look, let me just take something out to make a bit of room. . . . Look, I'll just take this old potato . . ."
"Grrr . . ."
"Don't bite!"
midnight
If I have to sing "Winnie Bag Pool" to Mr. Potato one more time I may have to kill myself.
I couldn't help but feel bad for poor, conflicted Georgia, who is still wondering why she enjoys spending time with (and snogging) Dave the Laugh so much when she is firmly convinced she's in love with the Sex God. And as for the Sex God . . . well, between his band, The Stiff Dylans, and his recent ecological commitments, there's a lot of time when he's not around as much as he could be.
And there is, of course, Angus, who turns out to be the sire of Naomi's kittens after all. Evidently he managed a stealth visit prior to the removal of his trouser snake addendums. The descriptions of Angus and the kittens is trés amusant. As is the liberal use of bits of French and German throughout the book. And while all the characters are endearing, I find I have a special soft spot for Sven, Rosie's boyfriend, who is from Sweden (I'm pretty sure - there's been some mention of Norway along the way as well, but I'm pretty certain it's been settled once and for all in this book as Sweden). He's especially outrageous when at parties or clubs.
Met the gang at the usual place to go to the gig. Sven had his special flares on. They have a battery in them and little lightbulbs all the way down the seams. When he presses the battery his trousers light up. He really is bonkers. And huge.
When we got to the door of the Buddha Lounge he said to the door guy, "Got evening, I am Sven and these are my chicks. Let us in, my trousers want to boogie."
Rosie doesn't mind that he's a bit mad - but she does mind that he has to go home to Sweden for a month. He will indeed be missed.
