Monday July 17th

11:00 A.M. I am feeling sheer desperadoes. It's a day and a half now since I snogged the Sex God. I think I have snog withdrawal. My lips keep puckering up.

Amazon.com Review
Fourteen-year-old Georgia Nicolson is back in British author Louise Rennison's irreverent, laugh-out-loud sequel to the Michael L. Printz Honor Book Angus, Thongs, and Full-Frontal Snogging. Written in diary form, these truly hilarious books chronicle the often minute-by-minute, very dramatic, and significant flip-flops of a teenager's psyche.

7:18 p.m.
My eyes are all swollen up like mice eyes from crying. Even my nose is swollen. It's not small at the best of times, but now it looks like I've got three cheeks. Marvelous. Thank you, God.

9:00 p.m.
I'll never get over this.

9:10 p.m.
Time goes very slowly when you're suicidal.

What tragedy has her so distraught? Her parents have told her she's moving to New Zealand just when she's managed to snog (kiss--look it up in the glossary) the SG (Sex God, a.k.a Robbie). This is of course not the only source of drama in Georgia's eventful life. Her half Scottish wildcat, Angus, who is the size of a small Labrador, herds the poodles next door and terrorizes the neighborhood. Her little sister, Libby, who is slightly mad, stores her "pooey knickers" and her scuba-diving Barbie doll in Georgia's bed. Her mother (from whom she inherited her orangutan eyebrow gene and possibly her "gigantic basoomas") is clearly inhabiting Earth solely to make her life miserable, and even her best friend Jas is "half girl, half turnip."

Despite the fact that she's spared from going to "Kiwi-a-gogo land," things don't get much better for Georgia. She's suspended for a childish prank right before her dad returns from New Zealand, she falls in love with the SG who dumps her for being too young, and Dave, the "red-herring" boyfriend she's using to make the SG jealous calls her a "heartless whatsit." And, she continues, "the spot on my bum is probably a boil. I wonder what Buddha would do now?" Rennison's comedic timing is brilliant. Adolescent angst ("I hope I am not driven to the brink of madness by grief") vanishes less than an hour later ("Angus can fetch sticks!!!") and sometimes even sooner. (Warning: Do not read this book while riding a train or bus unless you don't care what people think of intermittent explosive laughter. Seriously.) (Ages 12 and older) --Karin Snelson