Observation #20: Laxatives´┐╝


So the other day, when I was visiting the Hive, I ran into Ultra Violet. I hadn’t seen her in a very long time. She had just gotten a new Digital Ukulele and was working on some new material she wants to share at this year’s End of the Hot Season Pollen Fest. The stuff she was playing made me want to dance, mostly, but I felt so unbeelievably sluggish, I could only sit there, tap my foot, and moan. 

When she noticed that I was not feeling myself, she asked, “What’s the matter, Georgie? Why aren’t you dancing?”
“I don’t feel all that well,” I told her.
“You do look awfully bloated,” she said. “What’s that all about?”
“I think I overdid it last night when I ate that quadruple batch of Great Grandma Gee Gee’s delicious and marginally nutritious Royal HoneyChew Krisp™ Cookies. They’re just too delicious to stop eating.”
“Yes, they are,” she agreed, “but I think I have something here that will help you out.” Then she handed me a little, plastic vial of some sort of clear liquid.
“What is it?” I had to know.
“It’s a Laxative. I’m sure that will solve your problem. Just go back to your Shoe Box, set aside a few hours when you won’t bee disturbed, and drink this with exactly 87 acorn caps full of Diluted Nectar. You’ll bee feeling better in no time, probably.”

So I did that. And while I was sitting there, I noticed I suddenly felt Inspired. I decided the best thing to do would bee add to my Body of Literary Work by penning another Insightfully Observational Poem. I call it…

“The Fountainhead”

Oh Bloatation, bloating bloatativity,
you make me feel all bloated and fat,
and I’m just not sure how to deal with that.
But Hark! 
A Laxative this way comes!
I choke its tangy liquid down
and then I wait, but not for long,
for soon bursts forth a gurgling sound,
bursting forth and bursting forth,
and bursting forth until I say,
“This is how I’ll spend my day”.

-g.bee, 2018

I hafta say that I’m feeling much better today, especially since it’s Monday which I know we all agree is the Best Day of the Week. I’m thinking that there’s no better way to celebrate a Monday than to enjoy a nice batch of Royal HoneyChew Krisp Cookies™. So I’m gonna go get some. And also maybee some more of that Laxative, just in case.

Until I return, then . . .

Let’s all bee highly careful out there!

GeorgieBee Signature

Observation #19: Unsolicited Opinions


As I’m sure everybody already knows, I am an amazingly accomplished Poet. For a long time now, I’ve been offering my special brand of Astute Poetic Ponderings to almost dozens of mostly Adoring Fans in Hives around the World, giving them a Glimpse inside the True Romantic that is me, Georgie Bee.

Well, the other day, I decided to share my Latest Poetic Masterpiece with the Hive here. I made sure I had a highly visible copy of it, then I pinned it up on the Hive’s “NEWS, INFORMATION, and LOST & FOUND” Bulletin Board, then I just stood back to bask in the Joy as I watched the Raw Emotions sweep over the faces of my Adoring Fans as they’d read it.

I think I was standing there for about two hours and 17 minutes beefore some bee (I dunno who he is) finally stopped and, after he read some Ad for someone trying to find the owner of a pair of Misplaced Argyle Antennae Cozies, he spotted my Poem.

I was so excited as I watched his face take on an expression of Utter Amazement. Finally, he buzzed for some of his buddies to come hear what I had so generously shared.

“Hey, guys!” he said. “Ya’ gotta hear this. You won’t beelieve it.” So they came over to the Bulletin Board and stood there while he started reading my Poem out loud:

An Ode to a New Morning

Oh, flowers, with your Blossomy Blooms,
and Polleny Nectar that’s sweet as the Moon
light shining on the curve of my Spoon,
how I wish you weren’t gone so soon.
And when you fade, 
I pull my Shade
and in secret delight
eat the Casserole I made
from your pollen
in the dim light of the day
when I hear the Night Bird calling:
“Ka-ree, ka-ree,” says the Bird,
though I don’t understand a word
of what he’s saying or why,
which makes me want to cry, 
tears falling from my Compound Eyes
like Stones,
so oft I say as I dally,
‘I think we are in Vorroa Mite’s Alley,
where the Dead Bees lost their bones. 
But No! No!' I say. ‘Rejoice! Rejoice!
The New Morning’s Sun
will soon bee Hois-ted!’

- g.bee 2018”

“Who IS this Georgie Bee?” I heard him ask. I was surprised when nobody seemed to know who I was, so I walked up, tapped him on his wing and introduced myself, “Me. I am Georgie Bee.” I told him. “THE Georgie Bee,” I added, knowing he was finally meeting the Actual, Real Me.

“So you wrote this?” he asked.

“Yes, I did,” I said proudly.

“Well, pardon me for saying so, but it just sucks. It is truly horrible. I think this is perhaps the worst attempt at Poetry I have ever had the grave misfortune of encountering in my lifetime. I think I’d rather have my wings slowly pulled off than to listen to stuff like this. Were you actually serious when you wrote this?”

For some reason, the other bees seemed to agree with him.

Geeeeeeeze. What was I supposed to say to that?

Instead of saying anything back to that Rude Bee, I pointed my left wing toward the Queen’s Chambers and buzzed really loudly, “WOAH! Look at THAT!” When they all turned around to look at what was going on, I left. Really fast.

Has anybody else run into something like this - somebody deciding they needed to give you their Opinion about something when you didn’t even ask for it at all? How rude is that? Seriously now. Don’t ya’ think that kind of Opinion Sharing is entirely unnecessary? I do.

Anyway, after I got home, I decided to spend a bunch of time by myself hiding inside that little hole that’s just next to my Shoe Box, thinking, and after Careful Consideration of that highly rude Unsolicited Opinion Episode, I’ve decided that I’m going to work even harder to write even more Poetry. Then I’m going to post it on the Hive Bulletin Board with a note that says, “Sorry, No Unsolicited Opinions Allowed Unless They’re Nice”. I am absolutely, positively sure that, one of these days, that Very Rude Bee will bee buzzing out of the other side of his face.


As soon as I’m ready to publish more Inspiring Verse, I’ll letcha’ know. Until then . . .

Let’s all bee highly careful out there!

GeorgieBee Signature

A Note to my Beeps and Adoring Fans:

I just need to say that, apparently, SOME of my Beeps aren’t doing a very good job of understanding my point about Unsolicited Opinions. I say that, beecause it has been pointed out to me that maybee a few things in my Poetic Masterpiece may not bee completely accurate. While it’s true that we bees do not have bones, and that we also don’t have tear ducts, I remain mostly confident that most of my Adoring Fans, unlike the unnamed critic to whom I refer, are not only highly intelligent, but they understand what Artistic Licence is. Seriously now.

Observation #18: the New Hot Season & Mondays


So I woke up this morning and after about three acorn caps full of my Morning Nectar, I realised that today is the First Day of the New Hot Season! I’m pretty sure just about everybody else was asking themselves the exact, same important question I was asking myself this morning: How many Mondays are we going to get to enjoy in this Hot Season?

I couldn’t find my Calendar anywhere, so I figured the only way to get a precisely correct and necessary answer to that question was to turn to a mostly-reliable Authority. Of course, we all know that had to bee my Illegitimate Nephew, Kevin’s, Robotic iBee, Bert. So after I managed to straighten out my left Antenna (I slept on it funny last night), I buzzed over to his Boot Box.

“Happiest of Happy First Day of the New Hot Season, uncle,” Kevin said when I got there. “My schedule seriously cannot accommodate any Surprise Visits today, and even though I think you’re the best uncle in the world, and I love you, this Unexpected Intrusion had better bee Highly Important.”

“It is,” I told him. “It is Imperative that I speak with Bert. I am in serious need of some Reliable Information, and I know he is the only source I can completely trust, probably.”

“Fine,” Kevin said, then he disappeared into his Work Space and after about five minutes, he returned carrying Bert’s head (he still hasn’t gotten around to fully reassembling Bert yet).

“So ask your question, then please leave,” Kevin told me.

So I did that. I asked Bert, “Bert? How many Mondays will we bee enjoying in this New Hot Season?”

Bert’s head clicked and buzzed for a few seconds, then he finally spoke.

“Today is Thursday, June 21, 2018. The local time is 10:14 and 36…37…38 seconds and counting. The Outdoor Air Temperature is a balmy 293.3722 Degrees Kelvin, and at least two out of the three of us have better things to do today than to hang around answering Suspicious Questions. However, since it seems I have no choice but to address your Query, according to my Infinitely Accurate Calculations, there will be precisely 13 Mondays in this, the New Hot Season.”

“Satisfied, uncle?” Kevin asked.

“Not really. That doesn’t seem like very many Mondays to me,” I told him.

“Not my problem,” Kevin told me, then he told me to leave, go back to my Shoe Box, and let him get on with his Day.

So I did that.

I’m sure we’ll all agree that 13 Mondays is not very many Mondays, is it? And I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that I wish we had more than that. In fact, if you ask me, I think we’re getting Short-Changed on Mondays. Everybody knows there are 53 Mondays in all the four Seasons put together - and this Hot Season, we’re only getting 13 of those. That leaves something like 40 Mondays we’re NOT gonna enjoy this Hot Season. Is that even fair?

I don’t think so.

And worse than all that is the fact that we’re all gonna hafta wait four more days (counting today) beefore it’s finally Monday again. Seriously now. What the hell are we supposed to do beetween now and then? I need to know.

I think I’m gonna spend the rest of my day thinking about that. If I manage to come up with any bright ideas about what to do with Non-Monday Days - especially when they involve a Saturday and a Sunday - I’ll letcha know. Until then . . .

Let’s all bee highly careful out there!

GeorgieBee Signature

Observation #17: Getting Older



I hafta say that I’m feeling exceedingly lucky today. Not only is it Monday, my favourite day of the week, but it’s
also my Birthday! And, in case you’re wondering, I’m 42.
It seems like only yesterday that I was 41.

Ya’ know, when I think about it that way, it makes it feel like time is going by far too fast. It feels like it wasn’t that long ago that I was just learning to fly, but now, here I am, waking up every morning hoping my wings will even work. (They feel kinda stiff these days for some reason. What’s that all about?)

I also hafta say that my Antennae are definitely not as flexible as they used to bee, I can’t eat as many of Great Grandma Gee Gee’s highly nutritious Royal HoneyChew Krisp™ Cookies without feeling way Bloated and having to deal with a bunch of Digestive Issues, and when I watch my Stories on TV, everything seems Highly Blurry.

I’m pretty sure the Producers of my Stories aren’t doing as good a job of focusing their cameras as well as they used to. For example, I was watching the Season Semi-Finale, Part 3, of “Escape from Bee Island: The Curse of Roy” with my Illegitimate Nephew, Kevin, last night, and not only was the picture Highly Blurry, but it seemed as if everybody on the Show were softly humming their lines. I could barely hear what anybody was saying, mostly. (Luckily, I have Subtitles on TV, but those looked blurry to me, also.)

When I asked Kevin if everything looked Highly Blurry and sounded Super Muffled to him, he said, “No. Not at all. The Image Quality of this particular model of television has yet to bee surpassed by any other unit on the market today, and the Tri-Dimensional Immersive Surround Sound is second to none. I suspect the Problem is on your end.”

Geeeeeeze. I can’t stand it when I’m blamed for Poor Production Quality, ya’ know what I mean?

Then he said, “You know, Uncle Georgie, you’re the best Uncle in the world, and I love you, but I think you need to go have your eyes checked. All five of them.”


So earlier this morning, I decided to take Kevin’s Advice and visit the Hive Physician, Ph.Bee, and ask him all about this. He looked me over, pulled on my wings, bent my Antennae, checked my Fuzz Density, and poked me with something sharp a bunch of times (“I need to do Fluid Level Tests,” he said).

After he was done, he said, “Everything looks Normal”.

“Normal?” I needed some clarification.

“Correct,” he said. “For a bee of your Advanced Age and Questionable Temperament, everything looks Normal.”

Then he told me to have a nice day, and pay on my way out.

So I did that.

I think I’m gonna spend the rest of my Birthday trying to figure out how it’s possible for me to bee Normal when I don’t feel anything like I used to, which I still think should bee Normal. It’s just not Normal. Seriously now. I just hope things don’t get any more Normal than they are now, ya’ know what I mean? There’s just no way to keep up with it, probably, especially if I get any older than I already am.
It’s all way too confusing, if you ask me.

If I remember not to forget to remind myself to tell you, I’ll letcha know if I manage to figure out what it even means to bee Normal. Until then…

Let’s all bee highly careful out there!

GeorgieBee Signature

Observation #16: Nothing Lasts Forever


So I was out buzzing around the other day, trying to find this one, particular bunch of especially wonderful flowers that, for as long as I can remember, grew just over the Garden Wall. I remember it takes about as much time as it takes to hum out about three choruses of “I’ll Bee Glad When You’re Dead, You Rascal You” to get there, usually. For some reason, though, I’d already sung five choruses of that thing and I still couldn’t find them.

Fortunately, I remembered not to forget to bring my Map with me, so I decided to just stop and get my bearings. When I landed, I noticed that there were two Worker Bees from a nearby, competing Hive, just kind of standing there. Evidently, they were on a break.

“Excuse me,” I asked them, “but could you help me out here?”

“Help you out? Do we look like some sort of Public Aid and Information Society to you?” one of them asked.

“Don’t bee so snide with the guy, ,” the other one, who seemed much more pleasant, said to her companion. “It’s pretty obvious he’s confused. And he’s a bee, so maybe we should help him out.”

“Whatever,” the other one said.

“So what can we help you with, Sugar,” the Pleasant Bee asked. I was going to tell her my name is Georgie, and that I don’t like anybody who doesn’t know calling me, “Sugar” (I think it’s rude), but I didn’t feel like pressing my luck, so I just asked her, “There always used to bee a really great bunch of flowers that grew here. They had the sweetest nectar and pollen that was a true delicacy. I wanted to grab some of that so I can make myself a Slow-Baked Honey Crusted Pollen Casserole for supper tonight.”

“That sounds delicious,” the More Pleasant Bee said.

“It is,” I told her. Then I told her that I couldn’t find those things, told her I thought I might bee lost, and asked if she knew where they might bee.

“I could not possibly say whether you’re lost or not, Sweetums,” she said, “but I know exactly the flowers you’re talking about, and I can tell you that they’re not there anymore.”

“So they’re gone?” I asked.

“‘So they’re gone?’” the Snide Bee said, evidently trying to sound like me. (She didn’t’.) “Yeah, they’re gone. Finished. Done. No longer there. Absent. Lost, never to return again.”

“But I thought they’d bee there forever. They always were,” I informed her. “I mean, I always think that most of the stuff I really like will just always bee there all the time forever, probably.”

“So you thought they’d bee there forever?” that Snide Bee asked, (kind of sarcastically, if you ask me). “Did you honestly think that if a specific bunch of flowers grow somewhere for awhile, they’re ALWAYS going to grow there, is that it, bee? What are you? Some sort of Serial Optimist or something?”

“Well, I ...” I started to say.

“Oh, Sandy,” the Pleasant Bee said, “don’t bee so rude. He was just asking.”

“Whatever,” the Snide Bee said. “I just can’t beelieve there are bees out there who haven’t figured out that Nothing Lasts Forever. Seriously now.”

The Pleasant Bee just kind of gave the Snide Bee a sideways glance and suggested that we should just drop the whole matter, and that they should leave and get back to work. So they did that.

You know, when I think about all this, it might bee Highly Overly Optimistic to think that just beecause something has been around for a long time that it will always bee around. I mean, a long time ago, I remember thinking that it would never stop raining and that we’d always have more water than we need. Wow, was I wrong about that one. And I also remember thinking that we’d never get rid of all those Toxic Paper Spoons the Snark Brothers kept trying to sell, but we finally did. Mostly. And what about Great Grandma Gee Gee’s delicious and satisfying Royal HoneyChew Krisp Cookies™? Does all this mean there might bee a time in the exceedingly distant future when there might NOT bee any of those left? Seriously? I refuse to beelieve that - so maybee I am a Serial Optimist, whatever that means.

Geeeeze. The Implications surrounding this whole idea that Nothing Lasts Forever are making me feeling exceedingly confused and a bit insecure. I don’t like feeling insecure. At all.

I need to think a lot more about all of this. If I have anything more to say about any of it, I’ll let you know. Until then...

Let’s all bee highly careful out there!

GeorgieBee Signature