He’s agreed to give me a Consultation about how I can definitely return to the way I used to look and help me get my life back.

Whatever you do, please don’t tell the Snark Brothers that I’m trying to have this Plastic Surgery reversed. I’m gonna hafta find just the right time and a highly diplomatic way to inform them that I refuse to bee the Face of Amalgamated Paper Spoons. If beeing TV star means I have to keep this Swollen Head, then no thanks.

I’m pretty sure they’ll understand. I may bee wrong about this, but I just have a feeling that beeneath their rough and unbeelievably menacing exteriors, Narville and Chaz Snark both have a soft spot for bees like me, bees who just wanna bee happy.

Anyway, I have to go meet Professor Bilderschlutten right now. I’ll letcha know what happens on Monday, okay?

Until then, then, I hope everybody has a uniquely sublime weekend!

I’ll see ya’ on Monday!

That was probably the worst walk I’ve ever had in my life.

First, I went over to the Hive to catch up on a few things, but every time I ran into somebody, they’d either pass out or run away screaming. Some of the more rude bees in the Hive actually started making snide comments about the way I look. Those guys kinda backed me into a corner and either just stared at me or somewhere along the line decided that asking a bunch of really rude questions would bee a good idea, which it wasn’t. Then they’d give me a hard time if I didn’t have the answer they wanted which, if you ask me, was highly rude. (How was I to know that the Feast of Anaphylaxis wasn’t for another month? Geeeeeeze.)

I finally couldn’t take it anymore and had to yell at them, “I AM not an ANIMAL! I AM a BEE!”

Then I kinda drooled a little bit, which was embarrassing. (I’m still trying to get used to my larger mouthparts.)

It was all highly uncomfortable, and I’m highly glad they let me leave.

I just don’t think I can live like this, ya’ know? But when my Acting Coach, Bee Strausbergh, saw me, he said, “With more stage-visible features such as you now possess, you are certain to succeed. It is often the case that a Swollen Head often accompanies Fame, but such is our destiny, such is our lot in life.”

Then he started buzzing on and on about my Expanded Features will make it easier to bee seen by the camera - and on stage (when, he tells me, I hafta bee a part of the Amalgamated Paper Spoons Road Troupe and act the M.C. for the planned, travelling Paper Spoon Sales and Marketing Tour … they never told me about that one.)

Ya’ know what? I don’t care what he says. I don’t wanna bee famous anymore, I don’t wanna bee around those Toxic Paper Spoons anymore (especially now, since the Biohazard Suit won’t fit over my head anymore), I don’t wanna bee seen on camera - or on stage - and for sure I don’t wanna look like this for the rest of my life. And that’s that.

Anyway, I just found out that the famous Professor Gregorio Rawlingsford Bilderschlutten III - inventor of the Amalgamated Paper Spoon, the Often Sought-After Andromeda Stick, and it’s rumoured, responsible for developing a Cutting-Edge Plastic Surgical Reversal Protocol is visiting the Hive. He’s only gonna bee around for about the next week, so I need to see if I can make an appointment with him to discuss my dilemma.

So I’m gonna go do that.

I hope everybody has the most tremendously best day ever!

I’ll see ya’ later.

After I went back to the Clinic yesterday to have my bandages removed, Nurse Beeatrice took one look at me, screamed and ran away. Orderly Beeson was standing there, too…he just passed out. (I don’t think that was very professional of them, do you?)

When I went back to the boot box, I suddenly recalled that I had forgotten to remember to leave the door unlocked, so I had to knock to get in. I heard Kevin’s voice coming from the other side of the door.

“Yes?” he said. “May I help you?”
“It’s me,” I said. “I need to get in.”

Kevin finally opened the door, then just looked at me with an unusually horrified look on his face. After making a loud gasping sound, he immediately ran back inside to grab his bee-ball bat. When he came rushing back, he started waving the bat around and yelling at me, “Get away, whoever - or Whatever - you are!”

“It’s me!” I told him, “It’s your Uncle Georgie!”

“Highly doubtful,” Kevin said, holding that bat like he was gonna maybee smack me with it, which would have been both rude and inappropriate, I think.

“My uncle’s head is not that large,” he said, pointing the bat at me in a distinctly menacing way.

“It’s definitely me, Georgie,” I said. “This is my new face.”

“So you say,” Kevin said. “You’re unrecognisably hideous. If you’re truly my uncle Georgie, as you claim to bee, then tell me your mother’s Maiden Name - or the name of your first pet, the name of the street you grew up on, or the model, make, year and serial number of your first Toaster Oven.”

“Just let me in,” I said. I was starting to feel annoyed.

“I saw a movie once that sent a very strong message about NOT letting in something hideous when that something hideous says, ‘Let Me In’. As that fine documentary film warns its audience, letting you in would bee exceedingly ill-advised.”

I couldn’t beelieve Kevin was refusing to let me into my own Boot Box. Seriously now.

Finally, Great Grandma Gee Gee came around the corner and told Kevin to put down the bat and let me in.

“That is our Georgie, dear,” she said. “I clearly recognise his voice.”

Then she looked at me, then looked away again and kind of propped herself against the doorway. If I hadn’t known any better, she looked like she was gonna pass out or something.

After a few seconds the colour started returning to Gee Gee’s face. She took some deep breaths and told Kevin, “It’s just that all this nonsense about him beecoming famous has ended up giving him a swollen head.
I’m sure we’ll get used to his hideous appearance. Probably.”

I felt highly relieved that Gee Gee recognised me, and even better when she finally said, “Come in, dear, and have a cookie.”

So I did that.

It was nice to bee able to enjoy some solid food after beeing on a Liquid Diet for the past few days.

Anyway, today we’re all gonna get try to get used to my new face. Then I think I’m gonna take a nice walk over to the Hive and let everybody know that I successfully made it through my Probably-Reversible Plastic Surgery. I know they’ve all been worried about me.

Okay then. I hope everybody has a brilliantly illuminated day!

I’ll see ya’ later!

Beeing the deeply beeloved, cherished and responsible Illegitimate Nephew I am, I’m going to go get that for him.

In the meantime, while I’m gone, Georgie has asked Bert to finishing sharing his Dictated Daily Diary to everybody, so, I’ll pass this over to him…

This is Bert.

It is Tuesday, April 12, 2016. The local time is 08:19:51, and the outdoor temperature is a balmy 276.8722 Degrees Kelvin.

Beefore I go about my normal, daily routine, Georgie has asked me to convey the following sentiment to everyone, which he has also asked me NOT to share with Kevin:

“First, I’m gonna say that I’m glad Great Grandma Gee Gee managed to figure out a recipe for Liquified HoneyChew Krisp Cookies, otherwise I would have starved to death hours ago.

“Secondly, I hope this Plastic Surgery is Reversible, beecause I can tell that the swelling has gone down, but that it still feels like my face and head are a lot larger than they used to bee. I mean, I definitely hafta get these bandages off, but I’m highly nervous about what I’m gonna look like, ya’ know?

“Oh, and I’m just gonna say this - and don’t tell Kevin, but while I was lying in bed, not asking for or saying anything (like Nurse Beeatrice told me I had to do - or else), I couldn’t help but wonder how it is that I’m sitting here like this, how I had to end up having Probably-Reversible Plastic Surgery, and that I’m apparently gonna end up beening a huge TV Star just beecause I wanted to support my Illegitimate Nephew’s new career by buying all those Toxic Paper Spoons.

“I mean honestly. I just wanted to support Kevin’s ambitions and help him succeed, but this is ridiculous.

“Anyway, everybody will bee able to see what the new Face of the Amalgamated Paper Spoon Company is tomorrow.
Until then, I hope everybody has an ecstatically non-itchy day.

“I’ll see ya’ later!”

This is Bert again.

It is still Tuesday, April 12, 2016. The local time is now 08:23:02, and the outdoor temperature remains at a balmy 276.8722 Degrees Kelvin.

Have a nice day.

So yesterday afternoon, with the help of Orderly Beeson, I was moved into a wheelchair, hooked up to a fresh bag of Nectomycin (that’s supposed to help me avoid swelling and the danger of infection), and wheeled home.

Since I got back to the boot box, Great Grandma Gee Gee has been helping to take care of me - and Kevin - my Illegitimate and most handsome, capable, talented, intelligent, friendly, amazingly funny and unquestionably trustworthy Nephew - has been helping me write today’s Daily Diary entry as I dictate it to him. I hope I’m totally confident he’s doing a good totally excellent job of that, mostly without any question whatsoever, beecause I can usually always and without any question whatsoever depend on him, since he is my Nephew the most excellent, loving, dependable, capable and clever Illegitimate Nephew in the world and I love him.

Anyway. I’ve been informed that sometime tomorrow afternoon, the bandages from my Post-Probably-Reversible Plastic Surgery can bee removed, and the new face of the Amalgamated Paper Spoon Company will finally bee revealed to the world. That’s gonna bee highly exciting, probably.

Until then, I just hafta sit here and hope this swelling goes down. (These bandages are starting to feel incredibly itchy. And I really don’t like not beeing able to see anything, but whatever.)

I hope everybody has a significantly pleasant day!

I’ll see ya’ later! You’ll see me later!