It’s Meg Cabot, so you know what to expect: breezy, down-to-earth style, laden with pop culture references. Guys, I love Michael Moscovitz so much that I even bought Rooney’s first album, just because the guy in that band PLAYED Michael Moscovitz in the movies.
(Especially when Lando Calrissian is onscreen.) Second Base and Star Wars! THAT IS THE PERFECT COMBINATION. Imagine, if you will, a totally hot, tall, surprisingly muscular guy who will: A) bring you bagels, and B) let you smell his neck and C) totally stand up for you and your interests but let you fight your own battles but also not be a pushover, and D) is a complete genius and invents a robotic surgery arm and therefore is totally rich and E) will totally sit and watch the Star Wars trilogy with you while also getting to second base.
However, she’s getting an automatic two-point deduction for making me suffer through THREE BOOKS with that cheesehead, JP Reynolds-Abernathy, IV, who SUCKS OUT LOUD.īut let us move on from that unfortunate blip in Mia’s romantic history, and talk about The One, The Only, Mister Michael Moscovitz. Okay, NORMALLY Meg Cabot always gets an auto-10 on the swoonworthy scale from me, because hello, all of her male romantic interests are amazing. She’s the kind of friend I’d be lucky to have. And we DEFS both love Michael Moscovitz (which, come to think of it, might get in the way of our bosom buddiness).Īnd, above all that, Mia is kind and tries to do right, and she’s sarcastic and impassioned. We both love sushi and romance novels and fat cats. (sorry, bestie!) We have so much in common! We both love Buffy the Vampire Slayer and terrible reality shows on Bravo and WE. And doing it all with copious references to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is why she is my BEST FRIEND EVS.ĭidn’t I just get through saying she was my best friend ever? Seriously, if Mia were a real person, I would immediately throw over my best friend to hang out with Mia. Over four years, we follow Mia through: insults, embarassments, her mother shacking up with her Algebra teacher, getting the guy, losing the guy, dating The Guy Who Hates It When They Put Corn in the Chili, getting the guy again, and creating democracies and tearing down cliques. I mean, a sort of lovable one, but she’s certainly not going to sing a song during princess lessons, unless that song is a mashup called “My Granddaughter Has Terrible Posture I’m Late For My Botox Appointment.” Oh, AND, Grandmere is totally a psycho bitch. Unless Julie Andrews has drawn-on eyebrows, chain smokes, drinks like four Sidecars a day and is constantly followed around by a tiny hairless poodle called Rommel. And Grandmere? Um, she’s NOT Julie Andrews.
She’s lucky to make her hair turn into a non-geometric shape, and even that takes years. First of all, at no point does Mia turn into Anne Hathaway.
I mean, yes, all of that is true, in the movie(s), but the books are TOTES different (and WAY more awesome, obvs).
#The diarie of a princess movie#
“I saw all this in that Disney movie where Anne Hathaway was gorgeous! Julie Andrews was so nice! And at the end Mia was princess and everyone was happy and danced!” Which makes Mia the crown princess of Genovia, a tiny European principality near Monoco. That all changes when Mia’s father and grandmother (Grandmere) drop by NYC to announce that, uh, actually? They’re royalty. Her best friend is the brilliant and kind of mean Lilly Moscovitz, and she has a tiny crush on Lilly’s brother Michael, who’s the second-cutest guy at Albert Einstein High (Josh Richter being number one). Despite being a too-tall, too-skinny, flat-chested freak with triangle-shaped hair who is largely ignored at her posh private school, Mia’s life is pretty normal. Mia Thermopolis (Amelia Mignonette Grimaldi Thermopolis Renaldi), besides being my very bestest friend, is a teenager living in NYC, with a feminist artist mother and a mostly-absentee, European politician father. Relationship Status: Our Tin Year Anniversary Bonus Factors: Michael Moscovitz, Being Royal, Crazy Grandmothers, Tina Hakim Baba
0 kommentar(er)
