ARE THOSE MY BASOOMAS I SEE BEFORE ME PDF

Shelves: , ya , chick-lit , favorites , , , fun-and-dumb I am not exactly sure what it says about me that I love these books so much. In fact, I would actually be embarrassed to try to convince many of my reading friends to even give them a go. What would I say - these are books about a year English old girl who does a lot of stupid stuff, makes fun of her teachers and parents, and making out with fit boys is her main goal in life? First Georgia Nicholson book received a Printz Honor in , but it would have I am not exactly sure what it says about me that I love these books so much. And yet, Louise Rennison humor really works for me.

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Nice and supportive. She was the one who told me to do something when Masimo and Dave the Laugh nearly had fisticuffs at dawn.

And then when I did do something, she got the megahump and a half with me and stropped off. Oh Lord, now she had gotten interested. Because I did a bit of ad hoc twisting with Dave, and Masimo got the hump. She is like a Seeing Eye dog. I bumbled on. And not in a good way. In a having a full Humpty Dumpty way. At least I have the house to myself for a mope-a-thon. The Swiss Family Mad have roared off down the drive at three miles an hour.

I am going to call an emergency ace gang meeting. I have arranged to meet the ace gang, with the exception of you know who, at two p. I wanted to meet at mine, but the rest of them want to watch the footie match. They are obsessed with boys. I am just going to tell them all the whole truth and see what they say. Just come clean about the whole situation. Make a fresh start with my bestie mates. Truth is, after all, the cornerstone of friendship.

Well, when I say the whole truth, I will obviously not be mentioning the thing that I am not mentioning this side of the grave. And which I have forgotten about, to tell you the truth. I have gone from merely having a spaz attack to being now on the edge of a complete nervy b. What if Masimo is actually at the footie match and ignores me?

What can I do? I must make myself irresistible to the Luuurve God by applying as much mascara as is humanly possible. When I went into the bathroom, Angus was sitting on the loo seat. He just looked at me when I came in and then half shut his eyes, like a half-wit cat. Like he was flushing it. What fresh hell? He jumped down and skittered off at about a million miles an hour. How weird. I wonder if being run over has affected his brain?

Maybe I could get Angus a job in the Russian circus displaying his pulling-the-loo-handle skills. The Russian volk might quite like that. You never know. Why would a cat eat lip gloss? OK, I am ready to get entrancing and alluring. It gives me a casual, sporty air.

When I arrived at our usual meeting place underneath the big chestnut tree, Sven and Rosie were there. Practically eating each other. Do they ever stop snogging? Rosie knew I was there because she waved her hand at me. The hills are alive wiv zer pants, hahaha, oh ja pants!!! You like that. The meeting began with the official passing around of the midget gems. Then we discussed how to make Masimo stop having the hump and start having the Horn. I have to be nice. That is it. I have to be nicey girl on legs for as long as it takes to make Masimo luuurve me again.

The ace gang is going to help by only saying really, really nice things about me. They get vair jealous. I fear the tensionosity will drive me to not only having a complete nervy b. Just as well really. Sven has put two footballs down the front of his shirt and is swaying around like a girl.

A girl nearly two meters tall, with massive hairy legs and the beginnings of a goatee. Svenetta is bringing out my inner lesbian. This is exactly what I am trying to avoid. I know this is what Baby Jesus says and he is renowned for never having worn mascara.

So, in principle, I think you should just be yourself, but in practice, I am applying just a tad more mascara. Speaking of which, Ellen is in such a ditherama about seeing Declan that she has actually got some mascara on her teeth.

Oh yes. Here comes Miss Prissy Knickers herself. And her boyfriend, Hunky. How childish. Two could play at that game. Then I noticed that Jas was not alone. She had brought two of her stuffed owls with her.

And they had got little football hats and scarves on. How pathetico. One—nil to me!!!!!! If you like quite fit boys. I was just having a midget gem to calm me down and my back was to the road when I heard a scooter approaching. It might be the Luuurve God. I got immediate knee tremblers and jelloid knickers.

But I must not expose my jelloid knickers—I must exude sophisticosity. How do you do sophisticosity without turning round? Perhaps if I tightened my bum-oley muscles that might make for a better profile rearwise? No, that might look like I needed a poo.

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