Fuck you boys. Fuck you. And thank you Louise Rennison for teaching me that, okay, boys may not like girls for funniness, but to be funny despite that. Or at least try to be.
When I heard the news that my favourite author from when I was like 14 had died, albeit quite a while ago now, it hit me pretty hard. Confessions of Georgia Nicolson was like a bible for girls my age, helping us transition into boy crazy teenagers. I learnt a lot from that genius series of books and I’ve taken some of those lessons with me til now as a 24-year-old.
I mean, if any girl said that Georgia Nicolson didn’t help them with their understanding of hearing the dreaded “see you later” from the boy you fancy, or that she didn’t give you hope of finding a sex God boyfriend who chose you over the other girl that wears thongs, or that Georgia didn’t make you recall that experience you had with your very own ‘saliva boy’ – then they’re lying.
Louise Rennison taught a whole load of girls that you don’t have to wear chicken fillets to get the guy. And it’s truly a heartbreak for literacy that she’s gone.
Repeatedly watching the film actually made my choice of university quite easy. I chose Brighton without batting an eyelid. Even though the film was set in Eastbourne… But that’s where “old people go to die” and that didn’t really feel like my scene. It wasn’t until third year that me and my housemates made the venture to Eastbourne Pier, where we spent approximately 93% of the time quoting the movie and the other 7% thinking about quoting the movie.
You were so hilarious in that olive costume
So here’s to you Louise Rennison, and thank you for inspiring a whole generation of Georgia’s. And for teaching me the word ‘ciao’.