Daddy's 10 Rules of Dating
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking up anything.
Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult -- but you and all of your friends are complete idiots.
Rule Four: I'm sure you have been told that, in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some type can kill you. Let me elaborate -- when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information that I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word that I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six: I have no doubt that you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it's OK with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date nobody else until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool; places where there is darkness; places where there is dancing, hand-holding, or happiness; places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose-down parka (zipped up to her throat). Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are OK. Hockey games are OK. Retirement homes are better.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a fat, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless God of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have ONE chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull in the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car and leave the area. There is no need for you to come inside.
Rule One: If you pull into my driveway and honk, you'd better be delivering a package, because you're sure not picking up anything.
Rule Two: You do not touch my daughter in front of me. You may glance at her, so long as you do not peer at anything below her neck. If you cannot keep your eyes or hands off my daughter's body, I will remove them.
Rule Three: I am aware that it is considered fashionable for boys of your age to wear their trousers so loosely that they appear to be falling off their hips. Please don't take this as an insult -- but you and all of your friends are complete idiots.
Rule Four: I'm sure you have been told that, in today's world, sex without utilizing a "barrier method" of some type can kill you. Let me elaborate -- when it comes to sex, I am the barrier, and I will kill you.
Rule Five: It is usually understood that in order for us to get to know each other, we should talk about sports, politics, and other issues of the day. Please do not do this. The only information that I require from you is an indication of when you expect to have my daughter safely back at my house, and the only word that I need from you on this subject is "early."
Rule Six: I have no doubt that you are a popular fellow, with many opportunities to date other girls. This is fine with me as long as it's OK with my daughter. Otherwise, once you have gone out with my little girl, you will continue to date nobody else until she is finished with you. If you make her cry, I will make you cry.
Rule Seven: As you stand in my front hallway, waiting for my daughter to appear, and more than an hour goes by, do not sigh and fidget. If you want to be on time for the movie, you should not be dating. My daughter is putting on her makeup, a process that can take longer than painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead of just standing there, why don't you do something useful, like changing the oil in my car?
Rule Eight: The following places are not appropriate for a date with my daughter: places where there are beds, sofas, or anything softer than a wooden stool; places where there is darkness; places where there is dancing, hand-holding, or happiness; places where the ambient temperature is warm enough to induce my daughter to wear shorts, tank tops, midriff T-shirts, or anything other than overalls, a sweater, and a goose-down parka (zipped up to her throat). Movies with a strong romantic or sexual theme are to be avoided; movies which feature chain saws are OK. Hockey games are OK. Retirement homes are better.
Rule Nine: Do not lie to me. I may appear to be a fat, balding, middle-aged, dimwitted has-been. But on issues relating to my daughter, I am the all-knowing, merciless God of your universe. If I ask you where you are going and with whom, you have ONE chance to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I have a shotgun, a shovel, and five acres behind the house. Do not trifle with me.
Rule Ten: Be afraid. Be very afraid. It takes very little for me to mistake the sound of your car in the driveway for a chopper coming in over a rice paddy near Hanoi. When my Agent Orange starts acting up, the voices in my head frequently tell me to clean the guns as I wait for you to bring my daughter home. As soon as you pull in the driveway you should exit the car with both hands in plain sight. Speak the perimeter password, announce in a clear voice that you have brought my daughter home safely and early, then return to your car and leave the area. There is no need for you to come inside.
