Read Online Louise Rennison_Georgia Nicolson 09 by Stop in the Name of Pants! - Free Book Online
Authors: Stop in the Name of Pants!
Tags: Fiction, General, Humorous stories, People & Places, Juvenile Fiction, England, Social Issues, Interpersonal relations, Young Adult Fiction, Europe, Girls & Women, Dating & Sex, Adolescence, Dating (Social Customs), Diaries
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SMELL THE COFFEE!!!â
In the end she got her muffs and mittens on.
one hour later
The official Viking hornpipe dance is perfected!!!
(Just a note, costume wise, the earmuffs are worn over the Viking horns. It is imperative that the horns are not removed, otherwise it makes a laughingstock of the whole thing.)
So:
The music starts with a Viking salute. Both paddles are pointed at the horns.
Then a cry of âThor!!!â and a jump turn to the right.
Paddle paddle paddle paddle to the right.
Paddle paddle paddle paddle to the left.
Cry of Thor! Jump turn to the left.
Paddle paddle paddle paddle to the left and right.
Jump to face the front (grim Viking expression).
Quick paddle right, quick paddle left x4.
Turn to partner.
Cross paddles with partner x2.
Face front and high hornpipe skipping eight times (gay Viking smiling).
Then, and this is the complicated bit:
Interweaving paddling! Paddle in and out of each other up and down the line, meanwhile gazing out to the left and to the right (concerned expressionâthis is the looking-for-land bit).
Paddle back to original position. On-the-spot paddling till all are in line and then close eyes (for nighttime rowing effect).
Two sets of right and left paddling and then:
Open eyes wide.
Shout, âLand AHOYYYYY!â
Fall to knees and throw paddles in the air (behind, not in front, in case of crowd injury).
friday august 12th
in my bedroom
Dear Masimo,
Ciao. Last night we were practicing our new Viking hornpipeâs dance. At first, we had trouble with our paddles and Rosie nearly lost an eye, but by the high hornpipe skipping we had anâ¦
Hang on a minute. Maybe he doesnât know what a Viking hornpipe is. Or paddles. Or skipping. Good grief, international romance is vair tiring.
saturday august 13th
OK, if I havenât heard from the Luuurve God by the fifteenth I will take it as a sign from Baby Jesus that I should get on the blower.
Mind you, I donât know what I would say about when I am coming over. I found £1.50 down the back of the sofa. And that would make £6.50 toward my fare except that I accidentally boughtsome new lip gloss (raspberry and vanilla flavor) at Boots.
monday august 15th
10:30 a.m.
Another postcard from the Luuurve God!!! Yes, yes and three times yes!
Yesiityytessyyes. Oh, I am so happy. He posted it ages ago, so the post in Pizza-a-gogo land must be as bad as it is here.
two minutes later
I bet our postie has taken postie revenge for having to lug huge sacks of letters round. I bet that is what he does, I bet he doesnât deliver peopleâs mail, he just pretends to, and he has a hut in his backgarden bursting with letters and postcards.
Anyway.
The postcard has a picture of a bowl of pasta on the front and it says:
Ciao, cara Georgia,
Plees come for to see me, I am having the hunger for you.
Masimoxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Wow wowzee wow!
That is it!! As soon as I can persuade Mum and Dad to give me spondies, I am off to see my Italian boyfriend.
Hmmm, it sounds quite groovy to say that.
Not, âMy boyfriend that goes to Foxwood school and will probably work in a bank,â but, âMy Italian boyfriend, who will be a world-famous popstar!â
Yessssss!
tuesday august 16th
I tried special pleading with Mum today vis-Ã -vis money.
She said, âDonât be stupid, I havenât got five hundred pounds and even if I did have, you would not be getting it to go and see some Italian bloke in Rome. Gorgey or not. You can have a tenner. Make it last.â
I hate her.
wednesday august 17th
I have gone through nearly the whole scale on the having the hump scale. From No. 1 ( ignorez vous ing) to No. 6 (pretendy deafnosity) and Mum hasnât even noticed.
thursday august 18th
2:30 p.m.
Blimey, life is quite literally a boy-free zone. No sign of Dave the Laugh, no sign of Robbie. I havenât even seen the Blunderboys around. Which is good.
But weird. Even Tom has
In the end she got her muffs and mittens on.
one hour later
The official Viking hornpipe dance is perfected!!!
(Just a note, costume wise, the earmuffs are worn over the Viking horns. It is imperative that the horns are not removed, otherwise it makes a laughingstock of the whole thing.)
So:
The music starts with a Viking salute. Both paddles are pointed at the horns.
Then a cry of âThor!!!â and a jump turn to the right.
Paddle paddle paddle paddle to the right.
Paddle paddle paddle paddle to the left.
Cry of Thor! Jump turn to the left.
Paddle paddle paddle paddle to the left and right.
Jump to face the front (grim Viking expression).
Quick paddle right, quick paddle left x4.
Turn to partner.
Cross paddles with partner x2.
Face front and high hornpipe skipping eight times (gay Viking smiling).
Then, and this is the complicated bit:
Interweaving paddling! Paddle in and out of each other up and down the line, meanwhile gazing out to the left and to the right (concerned expressionâthis is the looking-for-land bit).
Paddle back to original position. On-the-spot paddling till all are in line and then close eyes (for nighttime rowing effect).
Two sets of right and left paddling and then:
Open eyes wide.
Shout, âLand AHOYYYYY!â
Fall to knees and throw paddles in the air (behind, not in front, in case of crowd injury).
friday august 12th
in my bedroom
Dear Masimo,
Ciao. Last night we were practicing our new Viking hornpipeâs dance. At first, we had trouble with our paddles and Rosie nearly lost an eye, but by the high hornpipe skipping we had anâ¦
Hang on a minute. Maybe he doesnât know what a Viking hornpipe is. Or paddles. Or skipping. Good grief, international romance is vair tiring.
saturday august 13th
OK, if I havenât heard from the Luuurve God by the fifteenth I will take it as a sign from Baby Jesus that I should get on the blower.
Mind you, I donât know what I would say about when I am coming over. I found £1.50 down the back of the sofa. And that would make £6.50 toward my fare except that I accidentally boughtsome new lip gloss (raspberry and vanilla flavor) at Boots.
monday august 15th
10:30 a.m.
Another postcard from the Luuurve God!!! Yes, yes and three times yes!
Yesiityytessyyes. Oh, I am so happy. He posted it ages ago, so the post in Pizza-a-gogo land must be as bad as it is here.
two minutes later
I bet our postie has taken postie revenge for having to lug huge sacks of letters round. I bet that is what he does, I bet he doesnât deliver peopleâs mail, he just pretends to, and he has a hut in his backgarden bursting with letters and postcards.
Anyway.
The postcard has a picture of a bowl of pasta on the front and it says:
Ciao, cara Georgia,
Plees come for to see me, I am having the hunger for you.
Masimoxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Wow wowzee wow!
That is it!! As soon as I can persuade Mum and Dad to give me spondies, I am off to see my Italian boyfriend.
Hmmm, it sounds quite groovy to say that.
Not, âMy boyfriend that goes to Foxwood school and will probably work in a bank,â but, âMy Italian boyfriend, who will be a world-famous popstar!â
Yessssss!
tuesday august 16th
I tried special pleading with Mum today vis-Ã -vis money.
She said, âDonât be stupid, I havenât got five hundred pounds and even if I did have, you would not be getting it to go and see some Italian bloke in Rome. Gorgey or not. You can have a tenner. Make it last.â
I hate her.
wednesday august 17th
I have gone through nearly the whole scale on the having the hump scale. From No. 1 ( ignorez vous ing) to No. 6 (pretendy deafnosity) and Mum hasnât even noticed.
thursday august 18th
2:30 p.m.
Blimey, life is quite literally a boy-free zone. No sign of Dave the Laugh, no sign of Robbie. I havenât even seen the Blunderboys around. Which is good.
But weird. Even Tom has
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