Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 07 by Startled by His Furry Shorts

not try.
    I have fished his only begotten son Baby Jesus out of Libby’s toy box and removed the Barbie frock. I couldn’t get all of his rouge off, but I have made a replacement foot out of Blu-tac. He is on top of my dressing table and even Libby couldn’t get up there. And the kittykats would have to erect scaffolding and a pulley to get him down. Mind you, I wouldn’t put that past them. Sometimes when they are behind the sofa supposedly purring, I think they are drilling.
    The last time I went to God’s house, Call-Me-Arnold lost his rag with me. Which is a bit un-Christian. After all, there was no real damage done vis-à-vis the elderly pensioner’s scarf inferno incident. And it was her fault. And she hurt my shoulder with her handbag and I didn’t mention that.
    However, as I could be accused of only really chatting to God when I want something, I had better practice humility before I get there.
    As I walked along, I tried silent inward prayer:
    â€œGod, you are so big. And omnipotent, not impotent like I once said by mistake. I would just like to say how we’re all really impressed down here by your many wonderous deeds. In particular that turning the wine into, oh no, I mean changing the water into the wine thing, and the walking on the water. I know that was Baby Jesus, but deep down it is you that is behind it all. I know that. You just do not blow your own trumpet. Not that you couldn’t if you wanted to. I bet you can blow anything you like. Forgive me my trespasses and also my dreadful toadying, but you are just so super.”
    home again in my room
12:30 p.m.
    What a complete waste of time.
    And also weird.
    The lady organist (who didn’t look to me like an ordinary lady, unless you think being six foot tall wearing a twinset and having four days’ growth of beard is ordinary) played a selection of songs from the shows. I don’t think the elderly insane who made up most of the congregation noticed, but personally I didn’t go to God’s house to hear “Chittychittybangbang.”
    And we had to join in with the chorus. With actions.
    Call-me-Arnold did his sermon seated at our feet on a beanbag. I think it was mostly about ice cream.
    evening
    Maybe even the effort of me going to his pad has in some mysterious way made God think I’m not such a bad person, because I have sort of cheered up. Well, not cheered up, I am still miz, but I have decided to look on the positive side as much as Ican. Masimo didn’t actually say he didn’t like me, in fact he said he did like me. He just doesn’t want a girlfriend. That is not my fault, it is just the way it is. Also Dave likes me, and I have good mates and I am not a starving African baby. (In fact, I think I have eaten a bit too much cannelloni.)
    Sooo. I am girding my loins with a firm hand.

motto of the day: girdey loins
    monday june 27th
8:30 a.m.
    Speaking of loin girderers, Jas was waiting for me. Her knickers truly in a twist.
    She was going, “Well? Well???”
    I said, “Well, what?”
    â€œYou know, what happened with Masimo? What did he say? I rang about a zillion times.”
    â€œI know.”
    â€œAll the gang phoned you.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk about it just now, it’s all a bit personal.”
    â€œHe dumped you, then? Well actually, he couldn’t really officially dump you because you weren’t officially going out with him. So technically you are not a dumpee. Which is good, pride-wise.”
    What?
    assembly
    All the ace gang kept looking at me, but I just held myself with with great dignitosity. Maybe I held myself a bit too firmly because Ro Ro whipered, “What’s the matter with you? Why are you standing like that? Have you been to the poo parlor division in your knick-nacks?”
    No sign of Wet Lindsay, so I haven’t had to do pretendy cheeriness yet.
    break
    I told the ace gang what had happened.
    Everyone