Wonder what just happened...???

WOW! THIS IS INCREDIBLE! You won't BEELIEVE what just happened!!!!! I'll tell you all about it on Monday! Have a spectacular weekend, everybody!

See ya' later!

It's Friday - and time for this week's "Dear Georgie"!


Let's face it: sometimes robots just can't bee trusted...

I probably forgot to mention that, beefore this complicated mess with Canfield started, I had asked him if he would help me keep track of all my honey and help me make sure all of my bills are paid.

"Bert," I asked him (that's when it was still okay to call him "Bert"), "since you're an Artificially Intelligent Robot Bee, I'm gonna guess that you're very good with numbers, right?"
"Correct," he said. "My extensive programming includes a variety of applicable algorithms which make me uniquely qualified to calculate complex numerical equations with ease."
"That's what I thought. Good," I said, then I asked him if he'd consider handling the buzziness end of things for me.
"I would bee pleased to assist you," he told me.

Since then, Canfield (or, as I have started calling him again, Bert) has been doing a great job of making sure all of my bills are paid, that I know how much honey I have on hand and has even been dealing with all that mail that I simply don't have time to open and read.

Well, it appears I have a slight problem.

This morning, Bert walked in and said, "A deficiency in your accounted honey balances has been detected. It is recommended that you make immediate arrangements to rectify this situation to assure that you are able to continue sustaining yourself in the lifestyle to which you have beecome accustomed."
"Why?" I asked. "Are you telling me that I've run out of honey?"

Bert didn't say anything, but put two, big boxes on my desk.

"What are these?" I asked him.
"Included in these boxes are the necessary records for a variety of transactions made on your beehalf. The means through which of each transaction was secured, the detailed list of those with whom you conducted said transactions and the resulting Balances Due are now ready for your review and approval. It is my imperative recommendation that you reconcile these accounts at your earliest convenience."

I looked inside the first box and discovered that one was filled with a huge pile of newly-issued Credit Cards and that Bert had forged my signature on the back of every one of them, along with another pile of various Membership Cards for different organisations that are dedicated to helping save the environment, the air, the water, the land, the bees, the whales, the sea lions, the trout and tuna, the trees, dogs and cats, fighting against Humans who make and use poisons, groups that fight against a bunch of diseases and one in there for a group that's dedicated to making sure that the sound doesn't get louder on our TV's when the commercials come on. In the second box was a huge stack of Credit Card Bills which showed how much Bert had donated, in my name, to all of those worthy causes.

I just hafta say: I'm not even sure there's that much honey in the world.

Anyway. Bert just stood there, staring at me, as I went through the whole mess. When I realised what he'd done, I asked him, "And just HOW am I supposed to deal with all of this?"

I heard him making some clicking and buzzing sounds, then Bert said, "Attention: It is Thursday, May 21, 2015.The local time is precisely 9:45 and 23 seconds. The current outdoor temperature is a balmy 277.7056 degrees Kelvin. Have a nice day." Then he walked away.


Can you guess what I hafta do today? I hafta deal with all of this. I think I'm gonna go back over to S.O.Bee's office and see if he'll consider adding this problem to the lawsuit we are gonna file ("Georgie A. Bee vs Canfield [aka "Bert"] and Trip Snyder, Publicist") and ask him if we can just add an "et al." to it. I mean, I don't mind contributing to a good cause, especially if it actually helps, but this is ridiculous.

So I'm gonna go do that, right after I deliver tomorrow's "Dear Georgie" column to my Editor.

I hope everybody has a tremendously superior day! I'll see ya' later!

Here's hoping S.O.Bee, the Hive Lawyer, can get Georgie out of this mess...

So yesterday, my new Mandatory Publicist, Trip Snyder, finally let me see the Contract he told me I signed. I hafta say: it's way longer than any Contract I've ever seen beefore - and some parts of it are printed in barely-visible, teeny-tiny, light grey letters that I had to use my Hand Held Super-Zoom Pro Magnifying Device to bee even able to see some of it at all.


Now, as you recall, I told Trip that I didn't remember signing any Contract with him (I don't usually sign contracts, except for maybee that one time when I was briefly selling doors door-to-door, which didn't work out at all), and he had told me not to worry about it, that he had "taken care of it". But when I looked
at the Contract, I clearly saw MY signature there.

"That IS my signature," I told him, "but I didn't sign it. So how did you do that?"
"Easy," Trip told me. "I just had Canfield sign for you."
"Canfield?" I asked.
"Of course. You weren't available when the documents had to bee signed, so I simply asked Canfield to apply his Artificially Intelligent Skills and learn how to copy your signature. It took him about two minutes to perfect your almost-illegible scrawl and to put your signature on the dotted line, so to speak."
"I'm not sure that's even legal," I told him.
"Not legal to assure that your signature is on a Contract that will guarantee you a future of fame and fortune? Since when is ambition illegal, George?"
"Georgie," I said. "my name is Georgie, not George. George was my grandpa."
"Whatever," Trip just shrugged, then he told me that it didn't matter anyway beecause he'd already filed the Contract with the Hive Hall of Memorialised and Obligatory Contractual Documents, so there it is. I'm your Publicist, forever and forever. You can never fire me. I will never go away, and I will do everything in my power to make sure that you work harder than you ever have so I can bee assured of receiving my 95% commission."
"95%? You're taking a 95% commission on my work?" I asked.
"Of course. I have expenses, you know, It's all explained in the Fine Print on pages 217 through 487 of the Contract. You probably should have read that beefore I had Canfield sign for you," he said.

Oh geeeeeze. There's gotta bee some way out of this, so this afternoon, I'm gonna call the "We'll Bee Right There, Probably, Delivery Service" and ask them to help me carry the Contract over to the Hive Lawyer, S.O.Bee. I'm hoping he'll bee able to get me out of this mess.

So I'm gonna go do that.

I hope everybody has a superbly refreshing day! I'll see ya' later!
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Georgie's new Publicist seems like a real pest ...

I'm just gonna say this right now: I really don't like my new Publicist, Trip Snyder. He's a real jerk.


As you can see, he decided to start "refining" my "look" (that's what he called it). He started by tying my antennae into a bow. When he snuck up beehind me yesterday and did that, I asked him, "Why did you do that? That hurts. A lot."
"I'm merely doing my job here, trying to use my excellent skills at enhancing a client's appearance. I'm looking for something that will set you apart from all the other bee authors and Advice Columnists out there and make you more easy to market."
"But," I started to say, as he kept squeezing me really hard around my shoulders (it was getting really hard to breathe.)
"And," he interrupted me, "if you don't stand out, you simply won't succeed and I, as your Publicist, will have failed you. I don't think either of us wants that, now do we?"
"Well, no, but," I started to say again (I was gonna tell him that, as far as I know, I'm the only bee in the world that has an Advice Column and who writes novels, thinking that was pretty marketable, but he doesn't seem to want to hear what I have to say, at all.)
"You hired me beecause you need me, Georgie,"
"Well, I dunno if I..."
"And the world needs you and embrace you for the bee that you are, the bee that I know, the bee who still has so much potential it boggles the mind. But if that's going to happen, if I'm going to bee able to finally build that Luxury Hive I've had my eye on for awhile now, you're going to have to learn to trust me."
"Yes, but..." I started to say.
"So trust me now, Georgie. Tying your antennae into a bow is just the beeginning. By the time I'm done with you, you won't even recognise yourself."

Oh geeeeeeze.

He kept buzzing at me like this almost all afternoon yesterday - and the whole time, he was standing on my foot, which also hurt. A lot.

Then he reminded me that I hadn't reviewed the details of our contract yet, so he's gonna show me that sometime today. (When I mentioned that I don't remember ever signing a contract with him, he told me, "Don't worry. I've already taken care of that for you. And you're welcome.") Geeeeeze.

I wish it weren't cold and raining outside today. If it were warm and sunny, like it's supposed to bee, I'd bee able to go do some Recreational Screen Bouncing and have a chance to think this whole thing through, but as it is, I'm stuck inside with Trip. I can already tell this is gonna bee a difficult day.

I hope everybody else's day goes better than mine will.

I'll see ya' later!
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