11:00 a.m.
Meanwhile in my fabulous life, another eighty-five years of my parents’ company in the car going home.
Libby has insisted on bringing Jimmy the haggis home with us.
1:00 p.m.
Oh good grief. Angus ate half of Jimmy when Libby had to be taken to the piddly diddly department at the service station. She went ballisticisimus when she found out. She hit Angus over the head with scuba-diving Barbie. I don’t think he even noticed—well, he didn’t stop purring. I nodded off for the whole of the Midlands because Dad started telling us about his hopes for the future. When I woke up I noticed that both Libby and Angus were nibbling away at Jimmy.
They are disgusting.
I sooooo hope that Robbie rings when I get home.
6:00 p.m.
Home!!!! Oh, thank you, thank you, Baby Jesus. I am SOOOO happy. I will never complain about my dear little home again.
6:15 p.m.
God, it’s so boring here. Nothing is happening.
6:30 p.m.
No phone calls.
All my so-called mates forgot to remember that I am not dead. Don’t they even wonder where I have been for the last five days?
7:55 p.m.
Jas, Jools, Ellen, Rosie, Mabs and Soph are ALL out. They’ve all gone to the cinema together. The Fab Gang but without one of the fab. People can be so self-obsessed. Right, well, I am going to eat the souvenirs that I brought back from Och Aye land for them.
8:25 p.m.
Lying down.
Urgh, I feel sick. I may never eat Ye Olde Short-breaddy again as long as I live.
9:00 p.m.
Tucked up in bed. I have made a barrier with my bedside table so that no one can get in my room.
Now I really have got snogging withdrawal BADLY!!
9:05 p.m.
I must see him. I must.
10:00 p.m.
Undid my barricade and went downstairs. I am so restless.
Angus is driving everyone insane!!! He is not allowed out at night until he learns his lesson vis-à-vis Naomi the sex kitten. He has to be kept away from her; otherwise he is in for the big chop. Although I would like to see the vet that could do the job and still have both arms.
Angus keeps yowling and scratching at the door. He is supposed to go to the piddly diddly department and poo parlor division in the laundry room. But he won’t go in. He just hangs round the front door trying to get out, whining and scratching and occasionally licking his bottom.
Libby said, “C’mon, big pussy, I’ll show you,” and went and had a piddly diddly on his tray. Oh marvelous. Now we’ll never get her to go to the ordinary piddly diddly department. She’ll want her own tray.
Then Vati, Loonleader of the Universe, took over. “I’ll deal with the bloody thing!” He dragged Angus into the laundry to put him on the cat tray. It took him about half an hour, even using the spade. Anyway, he got him in there at last. There was a lot of yowling and swearing and Vati came out two minutes later covered in kitty litter. Like the Abominable Ashtray! Even his beard was gray.
10:30 p.m.
In the end, after Angus had laid waste to four loo rolls, I was made to take him out on his lead to see if it would calm him down. God, he’s strong! I mean, normally I have very little control over him, but his love has given him the strength of ten mad cats. When we got out of the door he just took off with me on the end of the lead. Straight to Naomi’s love parlor. At Mr. and Mrs. Across the Road’s place there was a reinforced fence round the gar den, but you could see the house and there was Naomi!! The sex kitten. Lan guishing in the kitchen window. On the window sill. Looking all longing. She was like me. All puckered up and nowhere to go. Poor furry thing. Angus yowled and started doing this weird shivering thing. When Naomi saw Angus she immediately lay on her back with her girlie parts flowing free. She’s a dreadful minx. No wonder Angus is a wreck, driven mad by her Burmese sex kitteny charms. Still, that is male and female for you. Sex God is probably at home even now thinking about me and shivering with excitement like Angus.
10:40 p.m.
But hopefully not rubbing his bottom against a dustbin.
10:50 p.m.
We would have been there all night, but fortunately Mr. Across the Road drew the curtains and I found a bit of old sausage and managed to get Angus to trail after it. He was so miserable that I didn’t lock him in the kitchen. I let him sleep on my bed even though it is strictly verboten.
I said to him very seriously, “Angus, you are on best behavior. Just lie down and go to sleep.” He was all purry and friendly and licky. You see, that’s all he needs—a bit of understanding.
Aahhh. It’s nice having a loyal furry pal. He’s a lot more loyal than some I could name but won’t.
Jas.
10:55 p.m.
And Rosie, Jools, Ellen.
11:00 p.m.
Night night, Sex God, wherever you are.
midnight
Vati just went ballisticisimus. Raving on and shouting, “That is IT, that is IT!!!”
Mutti was saying, “Bob, Bob…put the knife down.”
Has he finally snapped and will have to go to a vatihome?
12:15 a.m.
Angus has pooed in Vati’s tie drawer! Hilarious, really.
El Beardo as usual did not see the joke. He dragged Angus, who was spitting at him, into the kitchen and locked him in there. Then he shouted at me, “Right, that’s IT! I’m going to the vet’s.”
I said, “Why? Are you feeling a bit peaky?” But he didn’t get it.
thursday october 28th
10:00 a.m.
Vati said to me over our marvelous breakfast of…er…nothing, “He’s going to the vet’s and having his chimney swept as soon as I can make an appointment.”
What in the name of Sir Julie Andrews is he talking about now?
11:00 a.m.
I’ve got much too much on my mind to worry about chimneys. I think I may have a lurker coming on. Emergency, emergency.
11:15 a.m.
Also the orangutan gene is rearing its ugly head again. My eyebrows are so hairy they are now approaching the “It’s a mustache! It’s a hedgehog!!! No, no, it’s GEORGIA’S EYEBROWS!!” stage.
It doesn’t even stop at the head, this rogue hair business. I’ve just inspected my legs. I look like I have got hairy trousers on. Dad’s razor is lying there calling to me, “Come on, use me. Just a few little strokes and you could look almost human.” But no, no, I must resist after what happened last time. My eyebrows took a thousand years to grow back after I accidentally shaved them off.
Hmm, but maybe Mum’s hair removing cream? Just a little dab here and there.
midday
Mutti asked me if I wanted to go tenpin bowling with them! Honestly! She and Vati went off with Libby skipping along. I think M and D were holding hands. Sweet really, I suppose. I just wish it didn’t make me feel so sick.
12:30 p.m.
Jas came round AT LAST. I was a bit miffed with her about last night and not bothering to come round earlier. She didn’t notice, of course. She just bent over to pick up my makeup bag. I could see her vast pantibus lurking under her skirt. I said, “Jas, do you mind? I’m not feeling very well. I think I might have jet lag from coming from Och Aye land.”
“You haven’t got a tan.”
What is the point? I gave her my worst look but she just went on using my mascara. She CANNOT stop pouting every time she sees herself in a mirror. She said, “We had a great time at the pictures. Dave the Laugh is really…you know…(pouty pout)…”
“What?”
“Well, you know (pouty pout)…a laugh.”
I tried not to be sarcastic or raise my eyebrows ironically, because I didn’t want to draw any attention to them. I have not quite achieved the sophisticated look that I wanted with Mum’s hair remover. In fact I have achieved the someone-has-just-stuck-a-firework-up-my-bottom look. But you can’t really tell unless you pull my fringe back.
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Anyway, you’d have to be on fire for Jas to notice anything. She was rambling on. “Do you think I should get my hair cut really short at the back and kind of longer at the front?”
I hadn’t the remotest interest in Jas’s head, but I know you have to let her rave on about herself a bit, otherwise you never get to talk about yourself. Then she said, “Ellen really likes Dave the Laugh.”
I thought, Oh does she really? How patheticosimus. Ellen my so-called mate likes my castoff Red Herring. She is like a lurking piranha fish in a skirt.
But live and let live I say. OGs display pride and general sophisticosity at all times. Jas was unaware of my sophisticosity and went looning on. “She stayed round at my place for the night and we talked until about four A.M. That’s why I am so tired.”
“It’s nice that you have got a new lezzie mate, Jas, but what has that got to do with me?”
“She didn’t sleep in my bed.”
“So you say.”
“Well, she didn’t.”
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Jas. If you swing both ways that is your personal choice. I’m sure Tom will understand if you tell him you are a bisexual.”
“Oh shut up—you’re being all moody and stressy because Robbie hasn’t phoned you.”
She was right actually, which is annoying. I feel all pent up, like in Cell Block H. I said, “Let’s put some really loud CDs on and go dance crazy.”
We did this fab dance routine. It was duo head shaking, kick turn, jump on bed, snog teddy, then back to the head shaking. I was feeling quite perked up. Then, of course, someone had to spoil it. I had forgotten about the Return of the Mad Bearded One. He came in the front door and it was stomp, stomp, “Bloody hell!”, then crash, stomp, stomp, yell. “Georgia!!! Are you deaf?!!! Turn that racket down, I could hear it at the end of the bloody street!!”
I shouted back, “Pardon? Can you speak up, Dad, there’s really loud music playing!!!”
Which made Jas and me laugh a lot. But not El Beardo.
4:00 p.m.
Jas, my so-called best mate, had to go because she was doing her homework. How sad is that? Very, very sad. Also, she was doing it with her boyfriend Hunky. Hell will freeze over and become a skating rink for the mad before I will do my homework with Robbie. Sex Gods and their girlfriends do not “do homework.” Life is too short.
I tried to explain the tragedy of what she was doing, but Jas just said, “I want to do well in my German exam.” I laughed. But she was serious.
I said, “It is so naff to do well in German, Jas.”
Jas went all huffy. “You only say that because you can’t do it.”
“Oh, that is so nicht true, Jas. Ich bin ein guten German speaker.”
But old swotty knickers went off anyway. Hmmm.
5:00 p.m.
Swiss Family Robinson have gone to the cinema together now. It’s just fun fun fun, all the way for them.
All aloney. On my owney. It’s bloody nippy noodles as well. What a life. I have been back a whole day and a night and he has not called me. Why oh why oh why?
I am so fed up.
5:10 p.m.
I might as well go to bed and grow my lurker.
5:20 p.m.
Phone rang. Probably Jas asking me something about her homework. I said, “Jahwohl!”
5:22 p.m.
The Sex God wants me to go round to his house!!! His parents are out.
I am so HAPPY!!!
5:30 p.m.
I changed into my jeans and quickly got made up. I went for the natural look (lip gloss, eyeliner, mascara and blusher) with a touch of panstick on the lurker. You could only see the lurking lurker if you looked up my nostril, and what fool was going to do that?
But as I was going out of my bedroom door I remembered my nungas. Perhaps I should take some precautions to keep them under strict control. Maybe bits of Sellotape on the ends of them to keep them from doing anything alarming? I’d like to trust them, but they are very unreliable. Sometimes they act like they have lives of their own. One day I will look down and they will have gone out to some nunga-nunga party by themselves. Oh, oh, I have early signs of absent brain coming on!!!
outside robbie’s house
6:00 p.m.
I walked through the gate, breathing the atmosphere of Sex Goddiness, and knocked on the door. My heart was beating really loudly. The door opened.
The Sex God.
Himself.
In person.
In his gorgeous black jeans and thingy top. And his dreamy army things and gorgey leggy whatsits and mouthy thing and so on. He is SO dreamy. Every time I see him it’s a shock. He smiled at me. “Georgia…how are you?”
Excellent question. Excellent. Good. I knew the answer as well. That was the marvelous thing. I knew the answer was “Great, how are you?” Unfortunately, all the blood in my brain had gone for a bit of a holiday into my cheeks. I had a very, very red face and a completely empty brain. I couldn’t speak; all I could do was be very, very red.
He just looked at me, and he smiled this really beautiful smile, all curly round the teeth. Like he really liked me. Yuuummy scrumbos.
Then he pulled me into the house and shut the door behind me. I just stood there trying not to be red. He put his arms round me and gave me a little soft kiss on the mouth, no tongues (number three on the snogging scale). But my mouth had gone into pucker mode so when he stopped my mouth was a bit behind and still a bit open. I hoped I didn’t look like a startled goldfish.
He kissed me again, this time harder and longer. His mouth was all warm and wet (not wet like whelk boy though). He put one of his hands on the back of my head, which was just as well as I thought my head might fall off. And then he started kissing my neck. Little sucky kisses right up to my ear. Fanbloodytastic. After a bit of that, and believe me I could have gone on doing that for years, he put his tongue ever so softly into my ear!! Really! Ear snogging!!! Fantastic.
I think I might have lost the use of my legs then because I fell over onto the sofa. However, I quickly leapt to my feet in a gazelle(ish) sort of way. I thought I would say something normal so that he would be fooled into thinking I was normal. I said, “Did you finish your demo-disc-type-thingymedendums?”
(Yes—very nearly English!! Good, good, keep it up!!)
He smiled at me and then went and put his demo disc on. It was very groovy, but I didn’t know what to do with my face. Smile? Look dreamy? Hum? Nod along to the beat? In the end, I went for gazing out of the window and tapping my foot a bit. He came and stood behind me and put his hands on my waist.
So I turned around for more snogging.
bedroom
10:00 p.m.
I am in Love Heaven. What a mega fab day. He is the Sex God of the Universe and beyond.
I crept downstairs and phoned Jas. “Jas,” I whispered.
“Why are you whispering?”
“Because M and D are in the front room, and I don’t want them to know I am calling you.”
“Oh.”
“I have had the most amazing time, I—”
“Well, I haven’t, I just can’t decide whether to have my hair cut for the gig…. Do you think yes orno? I mean, it’s nice to have it long but then it’s nice to have it short, but then…”
“Jas, Jas…it is my turn to talk.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.”
“Oh.”
“Ask me what I have just done.”
“Why? Don’t you know?” And she started laughing.
I forgot I was supposed to be whispering and yelled down the phone, “Jas!!!” Then I told her. “I went round to Robbie’s house to see him.”
Jas said, “No!”
“Mais oui!”
“Sacré bleu.”
“Aujourd’ hui.”
“Well, what happened?”
And I said, “Well, it was beyond marvy. We talked and snogged and then he made me a sandwich and we snogged and then
he played me one of his tracks and then we snogged.”
“So it was like…”
“Yeah…a snogging fest.”
“Sacré bleu!” Jas sounded like she was thinking which is a) unusual and b) scary.
I went on, “Yes, and guess what?”
“What?”
“He put his tongue in my ear.”
“Crikey. Did it…couldn’t it…accidentally…like stick in your brain?”
Honestly, you would get more sense out of a potato. I ignored her obvious bonkerosity and went on, “But then this weird thing happened. He was playing me his demo CD and standing behind me with his hands on my waist.”
“Ooer.”
“D’accord. Anyway, I turned round and he sort of leapt out of the way like two short leaping things.”
“Was he dancing?”
“No…I think he was frightened of being knocked out by my nunga-nungas.”
Then we both laughed like loons on loon tablets (i.e., a LOT).
bedroom
10:21 p.m.
Vati made me get off the phone and gave his famous We-are-not-made-of-money speech, first given in 1846.
11:00 p.m.
Emergency snogging scale update:
(1) holding hands
(2) arm around
(3) good-night kiss
(4) kiss lasting over three minutes without a breath
(5) open-mouth kissing
(6) tongues
Knocked Out by My Nunga-Nungas Page 3
