The Harry Potter books are something that my entire family can agree on (except for my Grandma, who hates anything supernatural or having to do with time travel). It was nice to have something we could all read together. On day, my father and I were talking about the fourth HP book and he said that the character Luna Lovegood reminded him of me. What? The wackjob with the nargles and the whatevers and the radish earrings? The one whose shoes kept getting stolen? The space cake? ME?!? I was infinitely pissed that he said this and now, in polite company, he insists that he said I was just like Hermoine. LIES.
As the books went on, though, I developed a soft spot for Luna, who had a tragic past, a sweet disposition, and was smart as hay-ell (Hello? Bing-Bong! She’s a Ravenclaw). She could rock a pair of Spectrespects and she ended up with Neville:
So, my girl Luna isn’t sweating it, OK?
Luna Lovegood, I salute you and your butterbeer cork necklaces, Malfoy-ish hair, killer intellect, and good taste in men.