Years ago, I read a book called Angus, Thongs and Full-Frontal Snogging, on the recommendation of a few of my friends. I then read the follow-up, On the Bright Side, I’m Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God. After reading the first two, I drove head long into The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson. My enthusiasm for the series was so great, I started writing my own confessions, describing my life as a fifteen year old in melodramatic detail with unexplainable phrases. I enjoyed these books on my own, but I realized that nothing would be better than having a friend to share in the jokes with me. I told my friend Becca about the books as we ran laps in gym class, and I recommended that she read the series immediately. She read them with the same enthusiasm as I had, and before long, our conversation mainly involved words from Georgia’s Glossary. When we were made to run laps around the track in winter time, we would exclaim, “It certainly is nippy noodles today!” We contemplated whether our lives would be better if we wore false eyelashes — boy entrancers — more regularly. We had laughing fits every time we though of Georgia’s crazy sister Libby and her terrifying Pantalizer doll.
Our enthusiasm for this strange language was increased by the arrival of our first text-capable cell phones. We could send each other text messages conveying essential information like, “Blimey O’Reilly’s trousers, this class about Ham seems to be going on forever!” or, “What fresh hell, I’m going to have a nervy b. if I’m made to wait in this line any longer.”
Becca and I hadn’t been friends for long when I introduced her to Georgia Nicolson, though we had known each other since the start of high school. We happened to end up in the same gym class in grade eleven, a class we had when most of our friends ate lunch. We were both tired of high school, and began to think about going other places before we could really conceive of which other places we would go. We talked about the gorgey boys we would meet in the pursuit of luuurve before we found our own Dave the Laugh. (Anyone who read the series knew that Dave the Laugh was la creme de la creme when it came to men. Italian Stallion be damned!) Becca had the mad younger siblings, I had the aggressive cat. We emailed each other throughout the month I spent in Leprechaun-a-go-go Land, or Ireland to the rest of the world. Our emails often said, “MAN HURRY UP AND GET HOME DO YOU SEE WHAT YOUR ABSENCE IS DOING TO ME?” Because that’s what you wrote when you were sixteen and trying to figure things out. We became like Georgia and Jas, but with better technology and fewer stuffed owls. We laughed endlessly through Dancing in My Nuddy Pants, and figured out our life plans by rereading Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers.
I read The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson at a pivotal point in my life. Though I initially wrote my confessions in an imitation of Georgia’s voice, I continued writing and eventually found my own. I still haven’t found Dave the Laugh, but Becca has. (At least I haven’t glued my eyes shut after a botched attempt with false eyelashes, so I can consider my life something of a success.) The best thing that The Confessions of Georgia Nicolson brought me was my friendship with Becca, as we helped each other figure out who we are and where we wanted to go. Though from time to time I still send Becca texts to tell her “I’m wandering lonely as a clud,” after a particularly long night of reading Wordsworth, we’re on the right track now and don’t need to rely so heavily on Georgia Nicolson to guide our life choices. At the end of the day I know Becca will be there for me, like Jas was for Georgia, when I’ve been on and off the rack of love, and in and out of the cakeshop of aggers.
Happy birthday Becca. I hope your twenty-first birthday brings you all the best. I also hope Dave doesn’t buy you another stuffed owl.
As for me, I’m away laughing on a fast camel.
Song of the Day: Come On Eileen by Dexy’s Midnight Runners
