Then He Ate My Boy Entrancers -- Louise Rennison

The sixth volume of Georgia Nicolson's trials, tribulations and self-absorbosity was a bit of a let-down. I only laughed out loud about every twenty-five pages, instead of every two pages: 

It is a miracle for which I would normally thank Jesus—he does seem to be coming up trumps lately. I lost Robbie to the snogging possums but them Jesus sent me a replacement Luuurve God. Hurray! As I say, I would normally thank Jesus personally by laying gifts at his feet—or foot, actually, because one of his feet snapped off—however, there is a bit of a problem. Libby has been rifling around in my room and she has nicked my statue of him. I'm afraid Jesus is not quite himself since. The last time I saw him he had a frock on and Libby was calling him Sandra, Barbie's new bestest pal.

(If you think that things like this don't happen in real life, you obviously didn't grow up in my house. Every year around Christmas, my sister would steal Jesus out of the creche, throw him in a drawer, and replace him with one of the lambs. She thought they were cuter. What can you do?) 

One of the major reasons that these books continue to entertain is that the love interest issue never gets completely resolved—when she finally landed the Sex God, he almost immediately left for Kiwi-a-Gogo Land. Even though I am of the opinion that she should totally get with Dave the Laugh and stop pursuing guys like Masimo the Luuurve God, Georgia hasn't reached that realization. (Although she's getting there). Hopefully, when she does, Rennison will end the series, rather than taking the slow and painful Princess Diaries route.

It's fun and worth it, but maybe wait for the paperback. Or go to B&N and bug them by lying on the floor and reading it there.