He said they were freebees.
I responded, "It's none of your bee's knees."
When people ask me where I work I'm gonna say, "Nunya Beeswax"
He says it gives him a real buzz.
A Beesiness.
I know I could at least get a B
“Sir, you gave me an extra!” he says. The beekeeper replies “Oh, that’s a freebie”
Beauty is in the eye of the beeholder
"Dont worry, those are freebees"
Because he didn't beehive properly.
Honey Mooners!
He had hives
He comes from old honey.
Air bee and bee.
The seller said, “Oh, that last one is a freebee!”
It has great buzz
Because beauty is in the eye of the bee-holder
But I guess you could always say, beauty is in the eye of the beeholder
"Honey, pass me another can of beer!", the beekeeper bellowed.
His wife went to check the fridge for beer but alas, there was none left.
"Dear, our supplies have run dry!"
The beekeeper then replied, "Sweetie, please pass me the honey can."
Every single one of them. As the saying goes, "Beauty is in the eye of the bee-holder."
That's not bee-liveable in the slightest
An old beekeeper had been raising bees for years. He'd had many bees he gave names to, like Buzz or Stripe or Sting. He got a kick out of naming them and he would spend hours with them crawling on his hands, looking at them, holding them gently and humming little songs.
One year, the hive had a new queen, and she was the most magnificent thing he'd ever seen. He usually gave them clever names like Honey, but this one was just too gorgeous for that. He named her Beauty, and he would hum to her everyday as the sun went down.
One day, during a particularly beautiful sunset, the old man was watching his queen as she peddled around in the palm of his hand, singing to her gently, when a gust of wind suddenly blew some debris toward his face. Without thinking, he reacted, moving his hands fast toward his face, and smashed the queen right into his own eye. And so I guess what they say is true, Beauty really is in the eye of the bee holder.
I asked if it was a good club. "No" he said. "It bites."
Yeah...he had the hives.
I hated the talks because the speakers there were using so many buzzwords.
He handed me thirteen and said "last one is a freebie"
She whispered, "They're right behind you..."
That’s how you know they’re a keeper.
A wannabee
I hadn't put my own picture up on my dating profile, just a picture of my pickup. But that's okay, because she'd just put a picture of her dog. I sent her a message, something almost-clever like "your dog can ride in my pickup any time," and she responded.
We clicked pretty quickly, and started chatting regularly. Every day, sometimes throughout the day. Slowly we learned more about each other. Her dog's name was Daisy. My truck's name was Dodge Ram (I apologized for my lack of creativity). She was a CPA. I was a beekeeper.
And at this, she stumbled. "If we ever meet in real-life, I want you to know that I could never date a beekeeper." But we were still far away from that point, so it was moot.
But time went on, and we gradually became closer to that point. More personal information. What firm she worked for. Where my farm was. Names of relatives. Names of high schools. All the things that just come up in conversation eventually if you talk to someone long enough.
But, oddly, after all this time, neither of us had thought to send any pictures. Until one day I got a message from her: "I never thought I'd say this, but I really do want to meet you in person. I think we have a rare connection, and I don't want to squander it. I want to send you my picture, and I want you to send me yours, but I'm telling you, I can never date a beekeeper."
I couldn't imagine a life without my bees. But I also couldn't imagine a life without her. Tentatively, reluctantly, I clicked on the image attached to her message.
Then I saw her face. Now I'm a bee leaver.
My mum called a beekeeper, who was keen to come and take them away before something bothered the nest. So keen, he set off from 20 miles away at half nine at night. My dad's comment?
"Well of course he's keen, he's got some freebies!"
Where I work, we have a honeybee hive and sell the honey in our market.
A pair of beekeepers were in the other day to extract some combs and before they left, they asked us (my Hispanic coworkers and myself) if we wanted to see them.
Both of my coworkers exclaimed, "Si, si!" and I promptly chimed in, "No, they aren't c's - they're bees!"
Audibly groans were had, I am ready for fatherhood.
Do you want to beekeeper?
New to fatherhood, created the joke to commemorate the occasion.
Today I sent my dad a text, proclaiming my desire to start keeping bees when I move into my new house next month. Below is a transcript of our text conversation:
Me: Dad, I want to start beekeeping at the new house.
Dad: I tried that once, but I broke out in hives.
Dad: Must be allergic
Dad: Not sure how to keep bees, but I'm sure we could bumble our way through it.
Dad: Don't know where you get bees so we'll have to comb the area for them.
Me: I thought if I ignored you this would stop.
Me: ...now I'm SKEP-ticle
Dad: Lol! Good one! Now I'm all abuzz with new ideas.
Me: Nope. We are done.
As an aside, my wife is pregnant, and I'm soon going to be a father. Clearly the dad joking begins during the first trimester.
We were looking at a Facebook post on bees that had lost their home and taken to a bit of chocolate on the road. The pictures showed the bees then all rushing into a basket a beekeeper had brought containing a honeycomb.
When my wife commented on how they all were so quickly attracted to it, I could not stop myself as I blurted out "Well yeah, they were looking for another place to bee"
Don't think she had ever rolled her eyes so hard.
"That's a freebie."
That's a free-bee be said.
The extra one was a free bee.
