Ok, this is my first Georgia Nicolson story, and my second story over all, so please go easy on me.
Disclaimer: I own no books, but might bribe a certain Louise Rennison into letting me get the fame. You never know, it might work :D
Saturday
6:00 am
I think I might be ill. After all, I AM up at 6:00 am. On a weekend, no less. I refuse to think about Robbie
(yum)
Or Masimo
(double yum)
Or Dave.
6:01 am
Dave?
6:02 am
I must be mistaken. I will never think of any man in that way again. I shall dedicate myself to becoming a lesbian monk.
In the kitchen
Right after I get some breakfast.
1 minute later
Breakfast? I think not. Last time I checked, breakfast did not include a piece of chewed carrot (Libby...), mouldy bread, and some unidentifiable piece of mush that smelled like Swiss cheese.
6:32 am
But what do I know? These aren't in the major food groups at Stalag 14.
6:33 am
I wonder why...
In my bedroom (aka jail cell)
After recent attempts at eating breakfast like civilized people might (civilized - the opposite of my family), I have decided to sleep. Maybe I can grow a teeny tiny Hitler mustache and see if I could join the lesbian circus. They can always use new freaks.
1 minute later
Although... rejection from the circus would be cruel.
2 minutes later
In an effort to cheer me up (or pick me up... hey, worked for Rom and Jul, although... there was that whole death thing at the end), a Shakespearian-type bloke (or bird, as I will have to learn to swing that way if I truly wish to be a lesbian monk) might say, 'but soft, what light through yonder window breaks?'
1 minute later
The answer? Nothing. That is how full of gloomosity my life is.
3 minutes later
Oh sod it. I'm going to bed. I'm getting a migraine from all this gloomosit- zZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZzZz
3:40pm
Blimey! I've been asleep for... errr... how long? Never mind that! As I say to anyone that will listen (i.e. no one), maths is not my best subject.
3:41pm
Worse! It means that I'll run into the family mad.
3:42pm
And never mind that I'm part of that family!
Away from Lesbian Monastery Headquarters
Checked phone messages:
Jas: 'Gee, what's going on? (Nothing, just the ruining of my life. You probably missed it when you were slug hunting with Tom) Look, are you and Masimo going out? Or Robbie? Or Dave? (pause) Errr... forget the last one. (I will, thanks) Look, just call me, okay? (No, it's not okay. My LIFE is not okay. Blimey, I sound like those goth teens that slit their wrists, and wear all black.)'
Robbie: 'Look, I'm sorry that it came as a shock, but I came all the way down here for you, and you at least owe me a conversation. Love you, 'kay?' Jeez, someone didn't sleep well... that makes 2 of us.
Masimo: 'Ciao, Georgia, I, how do you say, anticipate your decision. I know it will be a wise one. Okay.'
Jas (again): 'Gee, if you do not call me back, I will make sure you never get another midget gem in your life. (Sigh). Call me, okay?'
1 minute later
Blimey, why does every message end with 'okay'?
1 minute later
Maybe they'll compare notes.
1 minute later
I feel strange.
1 minute later
And tingly.
2 minutes later
Strange and tingly.
Oh sod it, I am going to confront the Family Mad like a sensible lesbian monk might do.
In the living room
I walked into the living room... and got a huge surprise. Bigger than normal. Bigger than simple oh-my-God-Bibbsy-is-naked surprise. Bigger than not-again-Mutti-is-all-over-Vati-and-it's-not-a-pretty-sight-hey-there's-Uncle-Eddie surprise. This was major-family-mayhem-that-bordered-on-madnosity surprise.
First of all, Mutti looked quite blubby, and I almost comforted her. My new lesbian monk urges, I guess. Anyway, I eschewed those feelings, just in time to catch sight of Vati blubbing. What? Libby was laughing. Not a cute little girlie laugh, but a crazy-maniac-child-driven-nuts-by-parents laugh. Which she was. Then I noticed this pair of perfectly sensible parental-type people, with normal parental clothes, and normal parental smiles (if on the sympathetic side), taking this in with calm aplomb.
"Well, look at the time," I said faux-brightly, looking at an imaginary watch, "I better get going."
"Wait, Gee." This from Mutti. "Mr and Mrs Johnson have something to say to you."
The woman that I took as Mrs Johnson said, "Would you do it, Connie?"
Mutti took a deep breath and I waited with raised eyebrows. "Gee... you're adopted."
I stood there, open-mouthed. This was what it was all about? I already knew this! Then I realized that my mouth was still open. (I should rename my super-marvy diaries Confessions of a vegetable-brain).
"I know," I said, and walked out.
In the kitchen
Nothing to do, nothing to see, nowhere to be.
1 minute later
I dare not go in and ask for a couple of squids after the whole 'Gee-you're-adopted' 'I-know' scenario. I still haven't gotten over from the shock of seeing Porkman cry.
1 minute later
It makes his tum wobble like a miniature Slim.
1 minute later
Mutti came in. 'Gee, I'm serious.'
I looked her straight in the eye and said, 'I know. Say, do you have a couple of squids?'
She just gaped, then said, 'you wretched little girl!' and left in a huff to end all huffs.
1 minute later
Jeez, what's her problem?
Parents: can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
1 minute later
Or in my case: have to live with them, can't mould them into sensible beings.
1 minute later
Though you can't say I didn't try.
Ok, that's the first thingy. I appreciate the word of the people, so please review.
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