Georgie & ButterCup are off to an early start on their long weekend ...


It's Thursday - and time for the next exciting instalment of Georgie's story . . .

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Oh geeeeze. When I was trying to say “goodnight” last night to everybody, I didn’t mean to say that I hoped that “everybody had enough soap to go around” (which, as Fleur just informed me, is what “suffisamment de savon pour faire le tour” actually means).

I don’t think I’ve been getting my honey’s worth from Jean Luc and those French Phrase Lessons. I tried to fire him, but the Severance Package he’s demanding is just ridiculous. (I mean, who asks for a Recreational Vehicle and a lifetime supply of Pollen Puffs as a part of a part-time tutoring job? Geeeeze.) So I guess I’m stuck with Jean Luc as my French teacher until I leave Paris.

Anyway, today is the day I start sharing each grippingly fascinating instalment of my story, “The Bee Who Knew Too Much” . . .



So there I was, stuck in this tiny room with Farouk, who was super mad at me, Jasmine, who was just kinda standing there, watching, and Krunch McKowsky, who was standing beehind me, holding a bucket. In front of me was this highly attractive, but unfamiliar briefcase that had some sort of stick-thing in it.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Please," I heard Jasmine's voice softly buzz from a darkened corner, "just stop this. What can bee the point of your wishing to continue these unpleasantries? It serves no purpose, other than to add to your discomfort. So just tell us and this can end."

"How do you say 'no' to something like that?" I asked myself. But I still didn't know what she was talking about. Tell them what? I felt unbeelievably confused.

"Yes, of course," I finally said. "I remember now. It's that stick thing."

"Bee amused at your own risk, bee," Farouk buzzed at me.

"No, really," I tried to convince him. "That's the Anemometre Stick. I recognised it the instant I saw it." Of course, I was lying - and I could kinda tell Farouk could tell, even though I don't know how he could have.

"Andromeda," he kinda hissed at me.

"Andromeda?" I asked.

"The Andromeda Stick, bee," he hissed again.

"Oh. Right. Andromeda. That's the Andromeda Stick. My mistake. I thought it was the other one."

"The other one, WHAT, bee? Perhaps now we're getting somewhere," Farouk said, sounding like he'd finally heard something he wanted to hear. Of course, I didn't know what that was, so I decided to stop saying anything and just waited for Farouk to start talking again. Which he did.

"So what do you know of this 'other one', this 'other stick' to which you refer? And how do you know of its existence?"

(to bee continued)
. . .

Okay then. ButterCup and I are going to spend a long weekend in a nice, secluded Cottage just north of here, where Fleur told us we could bee safe and enjoy some peace and quiet for a change. (That 24-Hour Disco beelow us is driving everybody nuts.) That’ll bee nice. And maybee I can get a tremendous amount of work done on this story. (For some reason, Fleur seems very anxious that I finish this thing and, as she put it, “get zis into zee wings of a reporter”.) Whatever.

I hope everybody has a tremendously tremendous weekend!

I’ll see ya’ on Monday!

The intrigue intensifies . . .

Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Ya’ know, I just hafta say, I don’t appreciate beeing lied to.

First, I just found out that the “have a nice day” saying (in French) that I used beefore I left yesterday didn’t say at all what I thought it was supposed to.

This is turning out to bee highly embarrassing.

Ya’ see, I’d asked some bee I ran into coming out of the Disco downstairs if he could help me learn French. He said, “Oui,” so, I figured he’d help me out. I have a lesson with him twice a day for the low, low price of one livre of honey for every phrase. (So far, he’s taught me seven.)

So I asked him what a good way to say “have a nice day” was to somebody in Paris, and he told me, “Joost say, ‘boîte détrempée de délicieux fauteuils’.”

So I did that.

Today, I come to find out that when I said that I hoped everybody would have a “boîte détrempée de délicieux fauteuils day”, I was telling everybody to have a “soggy box of delicious armchairs day”.

Geeeeeeze. Saying that makes no sense at all, it’s not what I meant to say . . . and it’s not as funny as that bee I paid to give me French lessons (Jean Luc) evidently thinks it is. Probably.

So he LIED to me. Not nice.

THEN, I’m told by Fleur de Bee - and, strangely enough, that bee that brings us our Room Service - that we shouldn’t trust that Buzz•O•Gram™ we got yesterday. As Fleur put it, “Zomezing doeznot zmell right wit zis… .”

I guess I should beelieve her. She’s never lied to me beefore, probably. But whoever sent that Buzz•O•Gram™ seems to bee lying, probably, so I dunno what to beelieve anymore.

I asked Fleur if it was even legal for somebody to use the always-reliable, but now perhaps questionable unquestionability of the services offered by Buzz•O•Gram™ (Open and available 24-hours a day, Every Day of the Week. Reasonably-priced, Prompt and Dependable Communications from You to Anywhere in the Known Universe. Promotional consideration for this message has been paid by Buzz•O•Gram™) and to lie to somebody like that?

“Oui! Of course!” she told me. “Ze Royal Courts, zey ruled zat lying by zee Booz•Le•Gram™…”
“You mean ‘Buzz•O•Gram™,” I corrected her.
“Oui, zee Booz-Le-Gram™, it would bee legal.”

That didn’t sound right to me, and I told her so. She just kinda shrugged and said, “Zat’s zee way it izz.”

So I dunno what to say. I guess we’re gonna stay in Paris for awhile, which is fine with ButterCup. She told me she had already made an appointment to have her antennae done at some very exclusive salon and, of course, there’s just no getting out of that.

In the meantime, I’m just glad I was able to find a part-time-work-from-the-comfort-of-your-motel-room-over-that-disco Buzziness Opportunity making online Product Placement deals through the Totalement Tordu et Sans Vergogne Metro Marketing Group of Paris. (It’s already paying off.) So that’s a good thing.

Anyway, it’s late again and I hope, as my French tutor, Jean Luc, informs me is a traditional, Parisian phrase to use when saying goodnight: I hope everybody has “suffisamment de savon pour faire le tour”!

I’ll see ya’ later!

Georgie just received this Buzz•O•Gram™ today . . .

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

So, this Buzz•O•Gam™ was waiting for us when we woke up this morning. I figure it’s from Rudy. He likes to talk about himself in the third person, ya’ know.


Evidently, the Hive has overthrown the Queen (I haven’t heard the details yet), Rudy Bee has taken it upon himself to fill the position of Queen Pro Tem (dunno how well that’s gonna work out, but whatever), and we’ve been advised to think about going back home.

ButterCup doesn’t wanna leave yet, so we’re still talking about our timeline here. In the meantime, always beeing one to play it safe, Great Grandma Gee Gee decided to go out and look for a job. (“You know, dear, when your host nation suggests you find gainful employment, it’s probably best you respect their wishes. It’s the polite thing to do,” she told me.)

Anyway, she just got back from an interview at a nearby Patisserie. (That’s kinda like a bakery.) She just told us that she’s feeling discouraged, beecause they said they’d hire her to work there, IF she agreed to sell her HoneyChew Krisp cookies there.

She told them she wouldn’t have a problem at all with that, but then they said, “And, of course, we’ll expect you to give to us the recipe.”
“And, of course, I refuse to do that,” she told them.
“Then you’re not hired,” they said.

So she didn’t get that job.

It’s just as well, since we’ll bee leaving Paris pretty soon anyway. It’s kinda rude to start a new job, then leave a day or two later. And it doesn’t look that great on a resume, ya’ know.

Sometime tonight, we’re all gonna sit down and talk about when we’re gonna go back to the boot box. I know ButterCup still wants to go shopping with Fleur at least one more time, so we won’t bee leaving right away. Probably.

But I’ll letcha know.

I hope everybody has a boîte détrempée de délicieux fauteuils day, as they say in Paris!

I’ll see ya’ later!

Georgie's Internal Time Clock seems to bee a bit out of whack . . .

Monday, January 25, 2016

I gotta tell ya’ that my internal clock is totally messed up. If it weren’t for Bert, chances are I wouldn’t know WHAT time - or day - it is. It’s been this way ever since we got to Paris.

It’s probably my imagination, but the days seem to start about 8 hours earlier here than it does at home. I dunno what that’s all about, but it’s making me tired.

The only thing that really kept me going today was that it’s Monday. And it was a good one for me (I hope yours was equally delightful).

As much as we do enjoy Paris in January, I think Great Grandma Gee Gee, Kevin (my Illegitimate Nephew), and even Bert want to return to our boot box pretty soon. I think we’ve kinda seen enough for the moment.

We’d all go back tomorrow, but as far as we know, there are still warrants out for our arrests on a bunch of trumped-up charges by the Queen. Until we find out that it’s safe to go back - if it ever is - we hafta stay here, “Where eet iz safe,” as Fleur commented.

I think somebody should send a Buzz•O•Gram™ to maybee Rudy or BigFoot in an effort to find out what’s going on in the Hive at the moment. I’d do it, but I think The Old Girl’s Guard Bees, including Krunch McKowsky, would bee able to track it and try to get us extradited. Whatever that means. (It came up in conversation over the weekend when we were dining with Fleur, and she had mentioned something about it. I think that was right after she told us that, if we wanted to stay in Paris, we’d hafta get jobs.)

So I think I’ll have Bert do it. (Ya’ know…send the Buzz•O•Gram™.) He said he can get a message out without being tracked. I asked him how, and just said something like, “Questions are not beeing entertained at this time,” and walked away.

Whatever. I just hope we hear something back. And soon.

I the meantime, all I know is that it’s late, it’s been a long day and it’s time to put on my footie pyjamas and go to bed.

So I’m gonna go do that.

By the way … due to the amazingly confusing time differences beetween where I was and where I am now, I’ll bee starting to share the next, exciting part of my story, “The Bee Who Knew Too Much”, on THURSDAYS from now on. Bert tried to explain it all to me, but I didn’t really understand what he was saying. (I hate it when he speaks in Code.) But there it is.

I hope everybody has a tremendous Tuesday.

I’ll see ya’ later!

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